... of 2013

Book of 2013:  We the Drowned, Carsten Jensen
I've never read a Danish book before, but if they're all like this one I'll be filling the library.  The book follows the fortunes of the harbour town of Marstal on the small island of Aero, telling the story of over a century of shipping, salty seadogs and the families they leave behind.  Uniquely, most of the book is written from the point of view of the town's community rather than one particular person, which allows the story to focus on different generations of the same families and travel all over the world, from tropical piracy to the Arctic convoys of World War 2.  

Tune of 2013: The Shoes, Time to Dance (Extended Video Edit) 
OK, so I think this came out in 2012.  And I only started listening to it a few weeks ago so it might not pass the true test of time, although I did hear it in a Kissy Sell Out podcast a while back.  Energetic, funky, chimey, and the extended version has a couple of nice breaks and builds, which I'm always a total sucker for.


Trad Route of 2013: Where Seagulls Dare E3, Pink Walls, Pabbay
2013 has been pretty weak on the trad front, with the highlight being a week on Pabbay and Mingulay back in June. Compared to many of the routes on the islands this one isn't that remarkable: one good long pitch sandwiched between a couple of easy filler-ins, but it stood out for me because I got the big main pitch at a point when I wasn't feeling very confident.  It's a classic islands number - long, steep, exposed and safe. On reaching the belay at the top I basked in that warm satisfying glow of a fight well fought, and for a brief spell that elusive confidence returned.

Sport Route of 2013: The Shield 7b, Am Fasgadh.
That's right.  I'm choosing a short route with a hands-off ledge at half height. Despite 75% of routes at Am Fasgadh being way out of my league, it's become one of my favourite sport crags.  The name says it all - the refuge.  Somewhere for the myopic rock climbers of North Scotland to delude themselves that they're still getting out during the short dark days of winter.  I did The Shield on a memorable day: bitterly cold and windy, the hands-free rest was fully milked to get sensation back in the fingers, and then skipping a clip for the crux right at the top of the golden headwall as the Fisherfield hills disappeared behind another snow squall.  I love you Scotland.

Tess on the crux section of The Shield

Boulder of 2013: Lawrence's Crack 7A, Ardmair Crag 
An obvious line on brilliant rock in a stunning location.  Enough said really.

Spanking of 2013: Primo (Curving Crack) 7b+, Am Fasgadh.
After The Shield this is the next on the list of Am Fasgadh test pieces.  It's the first (and perma-dry) section of the full 7c line of Primo, scuttling off right to an intermediate lower-off below the umbrella-esque quartz band.  It's taken a while to get to the point when I can do it in overlapping halves, but on redpoint I just don't have the fitness to get anything from the 'rest' so I'm off as soon as I start the second half.  Is 2014 the year? Only if Malc's arete gets done first...

A crow starts from the spruce

A crow starts from the spruce, rasping call and black flapping away.  Crunching through frosted grass, the cows steam in a huddle, lowing loud.  Despite the chill I sweat up the slope, through the fence marking the divide between the farmed strath and the heathery slopes.  Part way I stop and turn to drink it in: the frosted flat expanse of upper Strathspey. Smoke hanging above cottage chimneys,  green belts of fir and pine and golden stripes of birch and beech, and down by the river the sheep flocks grazing, as ever.  Then above, the hills rise and rise.  Late November's snow in patchwork with the brown of last season's plants, then above, perfect uniform white.  Beinn a Chrasgain and the rest of the Monadhliath, once more in winter's grip.

Pushing on, the ground levels out and I follow paths made by sheep and deer through the heather.  A raven honks overhead, and for a second I'm transfixed by the rush of sound of it's wings beating the air, nearing and retreating.  Grasses rustle and the Allt na Cubhaige burbles round ice-petalled pebbles.

Yesterday I went back to Laggan.  It was my first visit for well over a year, since moving from Aviemore up to Inverness.  I'd been meaning to return for a while, partly to try a few problems I'd not previously managed, but partly just to go back, to see the place and remember its shapes and colours, and the times I've spent there.  So far this bouldering season I've been more involved in the siege process than ever before, determined as I am for this to be the year of Malc's.  I'm still relishing the battle, and starting to see some benefits come through, but there's no doubt that the more you focus on the specifics of holds, moves, conditions, skin, the less you open your eyes to your surroundings.  Yesterday it was good to re-connect with a place, to remind myself of the journey this microcosm of obsession has come from: the mountains and glens, the woods, the rivers, the fields.

And, I could barely do this move a year ago.  Which was nice.

Coming of Age

I remember back in the autumn of 2007, not long graduated and not long living in the Highlands, over in wet Fort William. Plying my attempted trade as an ecologist, one weekend I went up to Kinlochewe to join a group on a lichen identification training weekend (no sniggering at the back, lichens are way cool). I was staying in the bunkhouse at the Kinlochewe hotel and one evening, while I overboiled my pasta, I picked up a copy of Scottish Mountaineer magazine left behind by a previous incumbant. Flicking between the stories of bearded heros in snowy couloirs and gatered wonderers on their favourite Munros, the pages fell open on an article about bouldering. The peice was describing the Celtic Jumble in Glen Torridon, describing a scenic circuit on perfect sandstone, tucked between the towering mass of Liathach and the lapping shores of the sea-loch. I remember one photo in particular, of a tall skinny guy stretched out on a problem called The Mission on one of the most awesomely shaped rocks I’d ever seen.

Little did I know how much that place would come to mean to me, how much time and effort I would pour into that rock, and that that tall skinny guy would soon become a good friend.

Bouldering in Torridon is now one of my favourite past-times, my default setting whenever the weather looks right. As any Soft Rock reader will know, I’ve been locked in a wrestling match with one of it’s most famous problems for the last few years, and during that time, when I’ve not been sat beneath it trying to envision my eventual success, I’ve spent hours exploring the boulder jumble, climbing it’s sandstone shapes.

Rich had told me a few years ago that him and Ian were thinking of putting a guide together. It makes perfect sense since it must now be one of the finest bouldering venues in the U.K, and people deserve to know about it. The location alone makes it special, in the quiet Highland solitude between mountain and sea, far from major population centres but only a short walk from the car. The rock is as good as you could dream, both on the scale of the lines and the holds – sculpted sloped edges, pebbles, pockets. And the range of problems: friendly lowballs, ankle-searing highballs, Font 3, Font 8A.

And it’s happened, Ian and Rich have put together a real labour of love: the comprehensive guide to the main boulder jumble and local outlying areas. The boulders have come of age. No longer must people rely on whisperings, blogs and half rememberances. It’s the full shebang: photo topos, lots of large scale maps, well researched descriptions and quality action shots, and all bound together with Ian’s dry wit. Personally, I think it's great that the two guys that have put the most into developing the area have gone to all this effort; recognition of the world-class bouldering and documentation of the psyched wee North West scene.

Besides wellies and a tarp, what more could you possibly need?

You can get yours here.

Sea Eagle Omen

Autumn fronts have brought bands of hated rain across the North over the last couple of weeks.  Not so bad for me as I've been sat in front of a computer modelling deer populations while my colleagues have been out in it counting trees.  Less good on the weekends though, when the options at this time of year are dramatically narrowed.

True to form, Am Fasgadh delivered, living up to it's 'outdoor climbing gym' billing.  The problem of course is that normal climbing gyms have routes I can actually do.  Nick had been on The Warm Up a few weeks earlier so was hungry for the tick, I'd not been there since about April so just happy to get the beta for Primo (Curving Crack) back out of the box and blow the dust off.  Neither of us were successful on that first visit, although Nick did all the climbing of Warm Up, just couldn't get a hand off to clip the chain. Gutted.

Next day it was mirky and damp in Inverness and I had to be home to get Sarah from the airport by five but all the Westies kept texting to say it was blue with them.  I couldn't face another day at Am Fasgadh so took the pads up to Ardmair for a look at the stuff under Arapiles Wall.  Bouldering at the crag was still a hole in my North West C.V.  As expected, I wasn't disappointed, getting stuck into the tenuous finger-locks of Lawrence's Crack in the anti-socially warm October sun.  After about 5 goes working out how to climb the crack, another 5 working out how to do the finish and then about 10 doing it all and then blowing the last move, diminishing returns set in and I packed up, keen for a return with fresh arms and new shoes with edges.

Another week of deer numbers passed and Nick and I were forced back to Am Fasgadh.  It rained all day but the crag stayed dry behind it's curtain of drips.  Mustering motivation was hard work in the cold dampness, but having driven all that way we both stuck to our guns.  A sea eagle floated by on the breeze - a good omen.  This time round Nick got The Warm Up sent, despite climbing all the way to chain only to fail on the clip on his first redpoint.  Effort for sticking with it.  Curving Crack started to come together, and I can do it in two halves almost every time now. Getting anything back at the halfway 'jug' is proving a little problematic, but I've refined some foot faffing which makes the next (crux) moves less strenuous.  We'll see.

Nick demonstrating the importance of rest before a redpoint.

Like last week, next day I went back to Ardmair, but this time armed with a pair of box-fresh Megos. After a warm up Lawrence's Crack went down third try. In it's own right it's a really quality line somewhere a bit different; slightly techy, slightly powerful and then a highball  lurch to a jug.  In the big picture it's a really good addition to the ticklist I'll be relying on for positivity for the impending Torridon seiges.

Afterwards, as I waited down by the road for Sarah to come and pick me up after her run, a sea eagle glided past.

The Beginning

So, last time round I threw down the gauntlet.  Now it's out there on the web: things are gonna be changing round here.  I'd better stick to my word.

I've had 3 dedicated campus sessions since I wrote that blog, and have found that I can fit them in to non-climbing days at home pretty easily.   I'm terrified of being stupid and injuring myself so being pretty conservative in my sessions.  I'll try to do at least one a week from now on.  I've been working on a few very basic core exercises most evenings for a while now - mainly plank and sit-ups so been keeping them up.  I got some inspiring exercises and tips from Beastmaker Dan so will try to fit them into sessions on Rich's board.

The weather's played ball, giving up three days of early season Torridon action over the last two weekends. It's been nice getting back into the swing of bouldering sessions: trying hard, sore skin, flailing, pulling, fighting. Knowing that it's still early days I've been enjoying floating about, taking it easy, notching up mileage on old and new classics.  I guess I'm trying to build a base of positive momentum for the inevitable roadblocks that a winter of projecting will bring.

Jus' good ol' fashioned fun

Sunday saw a gathering of Scottish trad jedis on the Torridon boulders and it was cool to be reminded that bouldering is sometimes just plain hard.  A cool wind quenched the fears that it would be too warm to bother trying Malc's, so down went the tarp, the pads, the inhibitions.  The first 2 sessions of the season hadn't been great starts - admittedly conditions weren't great, but I'd struggled to reach the slopy shelf  which I'd reach almost every time last year.  Sunday felt good though, and I had a decent couple of goes on the move from the shelf where my fingers were over the lip as my flailing feet pulled be backwards.  A positive start.

Has last winter's Am Fasgadh robin de-camped to Torridon?

Murdo trying Sostenuto the hard way.

Murdo dancing with Poor-man's Mission

Tony and Murdo discuss where they can fiddle in some RPs on Malc's.

Turning Over an Autumn Leaf

The busy life of the A9 commuter means time flies by with barely a nod of recognition.  I was on Pabbay last week.  Wasn't I?  No, it was four months ago.  And what have I got to show since them? Months of hard hill days at work, a couple of days out West, a couple of local sport routes redpointed, a handful of bouldering sessions.  Not much.  Well, that's not quite true, it's been a great summer in real life: weddings, friends, family, holidays in Morocco. There's just not enough time to do it all.

But there's a change in the air.  With October's blustery arrival and Winter lurking on the horizon,  it's time.  Finally there's breathing space in the calender, weeks and weeks with no plans or distractions.

Regular readers will be shocked and stunned to hear that priority number 1 for this winter is to climb Malcolm Smith's Arete on the Ship Boulder, Torridon.  During last year's emotional rollercoaster of attempts I got fairly close, sticking the last hard move for a millisecond before gravity prevailed.  Over the 6 months since I last tried it I've been doing some soul searching and come to the conclusion that if I'm ever going to do it things have to change, and now is the perfect opportunity to start.

When it comes to training and prioritising I've always had a scattergun approach, hoping rather then knowing that if I do a bit of everything it can't hurt - routes: do some circuits, bouldering: do some deadhangs, go for the odd run, do the odd core exercise.  However, I've never really had a structure or kept a record of progress, and never stuck at something long enough to make any real gains, other than psychological ones perhaps.  So, here we go.  It's a few months yet until the really good conditions of winter, now is the time to start something that could and should make this the year of success.

• Prioritising - I've already shown myself that Malc's is hard.  Damn hard.  If I really want to do it I'll have to make some sacrifices.  I expect this winter there'll be some lovely days when everyone else is off to Am Fasgadh, having a fun, sociable time, but on those days I'll have to ask myself what I want more?  Similarly, when I've only got a small amount of time, I'll have to decide whether I want a nice session on local boulders, or a punishing session on Rich's board.
• Contact strength - I've hit the top of Malc's loads of times, but just can't hold on. I've done very little campus boarding and think that this should help.  Over the years I think I've neglected working on raw finger strength but I'm realising that it could make a big difference.  Fortunately the wall at Inverness Leisure Centre have just had a board built.  Divine providence?
• Core - Specifically, keeping a toe on for the big move seems unlikely with my body shape, but the stronger the back and core the more I'll be able to dig my toes in for the jump, or keep my toes on if a miracle happens.  More generally, bouldering is brutal so the stronger the body, the less chance of mischief. 

Rich and I were out in the Glen yesterday for a pre-season friendly, pottering about on a circuit of brilliant easier problems.  With the imminent release of Ian and Rich's guide to the area there's been lots of checking of old classics and discovering hidden gems, so we had an explore.  Morning Wall warm ups, Celtic Knot, Conundrum, Chris Houston's new thing (fail by me), Slopey Ripples (classic!), Squelch, Tetra Pak, Bertram Dickson (team fail), Spaceship Right, Spaceship Left, Indian Winter (classic, but a team fail for the sitter).  It's good to be back.

Rich on Indian Winter

Nuts and Bolts

It’s been much the same as the summer has wound on: the odd bouldering session, the odd session clipping bolts, almost no trad to speak of.  Bah humbug!  I’m almost ashamed to say it, but I’m starting to think about the winter bouldering season already.  Even worse, the last few weeks I’ve had a funky index finger injury, something to do with ligament round the knuckle, according to the Highland climbing injury consultant Murdo.  It’s almost totally healed now but didn’t do much for motivation, since with my job one of my only training aids is dangling from rock rings on the few evenings I’m home in the week.  C’est la vie.  I’ve also picked up some soft tissue damage in my right foot from a combination of running in old crap shoes and hardcore ceilidh dancing.  I’m realising I don’t take being injured very well; it’s not something I’ve ever had to get used to.  Must be getting old….

It’s been interesting seeing the Farrletter debate rumbling on on UKC.  Of course, there’s no real new ground being covered, and the usual sweeping statements and entrenched views (of which I’m probably just as guilty) but it’s interesting to see it being used as a proxy for a discussion about the general placement of bolts in Scotland. Of course it’s not quite the same, as Farrletter is about retro-bolting trad routes.  With this and the long awaited publication of the SMC’s Scottish Sport Climbs guide it seems like the lid is being lifted on the lesser known Scottish sport crags, of which there are quite a few, and which I wouldn’t be surprised if some found a little controversial.

I definitely feel in the midst of an ethical quandary, and I’m starting to see how my own views have been shaped and might be different from others.  I only started climbing in 2004, and spent my learning years climbing with members of Edinburgh Uni Mountaineering Club.  As far as I was concerned it was all about trad, mountains, winter, exploration and dare I say it, danger.  Sport climbing was dull, safe and convenient.  With adventurous climbing you don’t have to be very good to still have amazing, challenging experiences.   As time passed and I got a bit better I started to realise that sport climbing had a place.  To me, easy sport is pretty boring unless it takes in stunning ground or covers funky rock formations, but battling hard on routes is great, and I’d probably list successful redpoints as some of my most rewarding climbing experiences.  And let’s not forget, punters like me need easy sport routes to warm up on! 

I’m realising this is a fairly out of date and idealistic view, but I still think trad should hold sway over sport.  If a new crag is being developed, I’d like to think folk would try to get some trad lines out of it before deciding it’s too hard, too steep or too bold and firing up the drill.  And if it is too hard/steep/bold, I’d like to think they’d have a quick think about what others might like to do – some folk love that stuff.  I might be wrong, but I’ve got the feeling that in some circumstances it’s been a case of finders-keepers, with who-ever makes the first move dictating the future of a crag, rather than the result of an open discussion.  Of course, as UKC shows us, an open discussion doesn't really lead anywhere.  So perhaps we’re all screwed!

I can totally understand the other side of the fence:  there are loads of quality established trad crags of all shapes and sizes and no-one is going to bolt them; if a crag hasn’t already been developed for trad, it’s probably for good reason; there’s clearly a growing demand for sport climbing.  My only concern (being a tree-hugging hippy) is that all these arguments are based on current demands and fashions, rather than the potential long-term effects.  Placing bolts is a pretty irreversible change to the nature of a crag, so my feeling is that it shouldn't be done lightly.

Finally, I’ll qualify all this by saying that I clearly don’t care enough either way as I’m neither involved in bolting or in chopping.  I'm the worst kind of arse that'll happily clip your bolt but then write about it on the internet.  I guess it would just be cool if those that are involved had a quick think about the wider effects of their actions before wielding the drill or chisel. 

Right that was all a bit serious, I'm off bouldering.