Long Roost Ridge

8th April 2020 by John Brayshaw Leave a Comment

Last year’s trip to Lundy saw us based at Tibbetts, which is the ideal location from which to explore the northern section of the island. 100m beyond Arch Zawn, and recognisable by the curiously shaped block perched just below its top, the Long Roost Ridge forms the basis for a 60m V Diff, first climbed in 1969 by those redoubtable south-west pioneers, Rear-Admiral Keith Lawder, his grandson Iain Peters, and Mike Banks MBE. The ability to follow in those illustrious footsteps was an obvious attraction, but I was curious as to why a route with such a pedigree should be devoid of UKC ticks (in fact, it wasn’t even listed on the database – most odd). Only one way to find out……..

Always game for a laugh, Shirley accompanied me on this venture, and having scrambled down to sea level declared that she liked the look of the first pitch and racked up accordingly. I was a little perplexed at such enthusiasm as the pitch follows a wide crack formed by a steep corner and looked like it might prove quite testing at the grade. In fact, to my eyes it had sandbag written all over it, but knowing it wise to keep my own counsel, Shirley donned her rose tinted glasses and set off with gusto. An early hex placement added confidence, but then the corner reared up and progress tailed off. A search for more gear proved fruitless, so with cries of “this is very bold” a retreat ensued. With the tide having turned and being faced with an incoming sea, I was only too happy to take over the lead. Reaching Shirley’s high point a touch of guile and cunning saw a Rock 1 firmly located in the granite, which provided protection for some very wide bridging that was rewarded by a placement for an HB Offset 10 – ah, bliss! The crux now ensued with a shin scraping throw of the leg onto a slopey ledge and a semi-mantle to get upright. All very challenging and, to my mind, more like HS 4b than V Diff. A series of strenuous layback manoeuvres completed the pitch. Clearly the Admiral and friends were made of stern stuff. Shirley’s comments on the route grading are unfit for publication, so it’s time to review the second pitch.

References to scrambling upwards were a little misleading as vertical rock endowed with flaring cracks made for difficult progress, and required further dipping into the guile and cunning box to fashion any sort of protection. The guide mentions an optional stance at a grassy col, but with Shirley out of sight and the wind blowing, I elected to belay early. Shirley then led over the grassy col to a couple of small spikes that I assured her would form an adequate belay. Alas, these did not meet Plas-y-Brenin standards, but having joined her, I reasoned that with nothing else on offer, we might have to relax our standards a little. The guide advises further progress up a leftward slanting crack, to which Shirley’s only comment was “well, I’m not going up there!” The difficulty seemed to be that the crack had become home to some rather luxuriant vegetation. In fact, it wasn’t apparent that a crack existed at all. However, reckoning that the Admiral would be appalled if we made a disorderly retreat from the grassy col, I felt compelled to lead on. A couple of moves saw me atop the dubious spikes and then a wholesale ransacking of the guile and cunning box was required to find a protection placement. Lacking shears and trowel, I resorted to pulling out vegetation by hand. Shirley advised that she thought this wasn’t allowed on Lundy, but on grounds of preservation of life, the excavation of a sound Dragon 4 placement felt like a necessity. Buoyed up by this I moved jauntily up the flora until an undercut flake offered a couple of more easily accessed gear placements.

The final pitch is described as easy climbing up a broken chimney, but there was a catch; the chimney appeared to have been covered in a carpet of deep, green sea grass. The jaundiced look in Shirley’s eye told me it would be unwise to offer her the lead at this stage, so off I went again. I’ve climbed a number of pitches on Lundy where the sea grass makes things look unappealing from below, but the passage of other climbers has kept the holds clean. Sadly this wasn’t the case on Long Roost Ridge. In fact, I was beginning to wonder if there had been any ascents in the fifty years since the Admiral and friends first climbed it. Lacking a stiff hand brush, the required technique seemed to be to rub vigorously with the palm of the hand to remove a patch of sea grass in the approximate position in which the feet might be positioned. Consequently progress was slow, but the revealed granite was super grippy (no polish here) and further wide bridging manoeuvres allowed progress to be made towards the top. With muscles and joints beginning to ache I was rather glad to make it to the final belay, and before long a rather hungry looking Shirley arrived to join me. Pausing only long enough to shoot me another withering glance, she pulled the ropes through to the sacks and set about devouring some well earned rations.

Little travelled it may be but Long Roost Ridge is now firmly on the UKC database, sporting two ticks. I’ve voted it HS for the difficulty of the first pitch and awarded it one star on account of its compelling nature. For those in search of an adventurous experience, well away from the crowds, I strongly recommend it – just remember to pack a variety of gardening tools and a stiff hand brush!

John Brayshaw

From Pavey to Stanage

19th August 2019 by John Brayshaw 1 Comment

Names have been withheld to protect the innocent, as well as the guilty!

We should have been going to Pavey, but Sunday’s meet eventually took place at Stanage after a last minute review of the weather forecast indicated that plastic could be off the menu with the Peak seeming to offer decent climbing conditions.

Five of us travelled down and were surprised to see another member of the CMC belaying atop Tinker’s Crack (and it is a tinker, especially if you’re tall!). This prodigal was last seen hauling on iron in the Dolomites, but the ferrous injection hadn’t blunted his appetite for grit as he’d already completed his third route before we were even geared up.

The prospective member in the group quickly set about trying to make up the route deficit by whipping up Castle Crack at a very speedy pace, which brought a greenish tinge to his partner’s face as he realised that he could be in for a hard time with this new hot shot.

The remaining three of us took a more leisurely approach to proceedings, although I was encouraged to delay my late morning snack in favour of getting a route in. Various reasons were put forward as to why I should lead, and never wishing to disappoint a lady, I set forth on a Black Hawk variation. Arriving at the top I understood why the prodigal had failed to comprehend my earlier shouts to him as the wind was blasting in from the west and creating its own version of white noise. Unlike the prodigal and the hot shot, my partners’ appetite for the grit appeared to be less finely honed, and one member of the team indulged in some rather unseemly behaviour by first performing what may have been an Argentine Tango on the traverse, then an impression of Toulouse Lautrec on the final ledge before topping out with a gasp.

I definitely needed sustenance after this but was disappointed to find that my carefully prepared egg mayonnaise sandwiches had inadvertently been left at home in the fridge. The hot shot offered to share with me his ready-made curry in a bag, but the very thought reduced my appetite quite dramatically.

Things deteriorated further on Black Hawk Hell Crack when ropes were made into taut bowstrings before one member, who has previously led this route in good style, resorted to direct aid at the crux. I was glad to be wrapped up in six layers and multiple hoods as, despite the cold, my cheeks blushed red at such sacreligeous behaviour from my seconds.

Further aberrations were noted on Cakestand where a serious amount of flanking was in evidence prior to the crux, but amazingly both my recalcitrant seconds turned into gritstone goddesses and performed the final committing high step and rock-over in fine style. Maybe there’s hope for them yet.

The prodigal departed at this point with eight routes under his belt, four of them at VS standard, which made our haul of two Severes and a V Diff seem rather feeble by comparison. The hot shot had been matching him though, with five routes in the same time period, so having burned off his original partner, who to be fair, left with a smile on his face, he teamed up with me for a final foray on Heather Wall. Meanwhile the girls sloped off on their own before the climbing police nabbed them for crimes against gritstone, but then succeeded in turning the tables by fitting in another couple of routes before the close of proceedings.

A challenging day in many ways, but a memorable one nonetheless.

Balthazar and the three Devils meet the Exorcist

3rd October 2018 by John Brayshaw Leave a Comment

It all began a long time ago, back in 2004, after I had been encouraged to organise a CMC trip to Lundy, and what a trip; fantastic weather, brilliant climbing and an island full of charm and interest. Fourteen years on and I’m here again, for my twelfth visit, and in the company of the highly estimable Mr and Mrs Wilson, better known as Steve and Rachel. Steve was here for the climbing, while Rachel was acting in the dual capacity of deep water swimmer and Steve’s advisor, particularly in the linked areas of hydration and alcohol consumption, plus the all important matter of sartorial elegance.

Having yet to open his account on the sea cliffs, we decided that Steve would benefit from an acclimatisation trip, so the weekend before Lundy; we planned a visit to Gogarth. In some quarters, eyebrows were raised at this choice of venue, but in the event, the weather turned against us and we had two days on Stanage instead. Being rather a long way from the coast, this wasn’t the ideal training location, but to simulate the sea cliff experience, I did find a Severe called Grooved Arete that required an abseil descent and a semi-hanging belay. Suitably prepared, the following weekend saw us on our way to Lundy.

First port of call was Kistvaen Buttress, which is located on the south coast and offers easy access, along with a dozen, mainly single pitch routes of up to HS standard, only one of which has evaded my previous attempts to climb it. The route in question is Balthazar, a 26m VD, best accessed by The Dark Labyrinth, a rather intimidating traverse beneath overhangs, just above high tide level, which I was hoping we could repeat and thus gain access to my missing route. Alas, even at a lowish tide the strong swell scuppered that plan, so Steve set off on Mount Olive, VD.

After a steep start the route follows an easy groove before making a step up left onto a fine right-trending upper slab. Having committed this to memory, Steve set off and at the end of the groove, omitted the step up left and immediately turned right onto the subsidiary slab. Finding this to be somewhat testing, he reversed to the groove where we did our best to confer above the sound of the crashing waves and the singing of the seals who were hauled out just across the zawn. Having got his bearings, Steve found the way onto the upper slab which offered delightful climbing all the way to the belay.

Our next route was Sour Grapes, HS, which starts on a small pinnacle, not too far above the sea – a fact that, given the incoming tide, seemed to be preying on Steve’s mind. With promises not to hang about, I moved briskly up to the point where Sour Grapes crosses Mount Olive, then proceeded up the lower slab that Steve had inadvertently made a start on. Thin moves that were definitely not V Diff led on to the top.

We concluded the day’s climbing with an ascent of Justine, S, which again makes a steep start to attain what appears to be a slabby corner, but is actually steeper than it looks. This posed little problem to Steve who was well into his stride by now and he romped up it in good style. Full of the joys of sea cliff climbing we made our way to Hanmers, which was once a fisherman’s cottage, and is perched in a delightful location at the top of the hillside overlooking the harbour, and offers superb views along the east coast and across to the mainland.

Red wine, tea and bottled water were advised by Rachel as the ideal rehydration cocktail, and Steve showed no hesitation in consuming significant quantities of all three drinks. The next day dawned wet and stayed wet, so while Steve and Rachel went fishing (to no avail), I stayed resolutely inactive thus saving my energies for when the weather improved. Patience was rewarded when Monday dawned dry, but dull, so we headed off up the west coast in search of Wonderland, which is a newly developed crag that is guarded by a substantial earthy cornice that poses some interesting access issues. The preferred method is to abseil via the adjacent Dihedral Slabs then make a southerly traverse above high tide level to gain the foot of the cliff. The earthy cornice, which extends horizontally outwards by a good three metres, certainly concentrates the mind.

To alleviate our discomfort, I chose to start on Alice’s Arete which climbs the second arête line just right of the first earthy cornice in the picture. This is given the rather curious grade of S 4b, but with a run-out crux and reasonably steady climbing, we thought HS 4a closer to the mark. Once Steve arrived at the belay we then had to abseil back to where we had started, which is the way of things in Wonderland. Starting to feel peckish, we traversed back to beneath the Dihedral Slabs where Steve led Johnny’s Makeshift Harness, S, which climbs the left-hand side of the slabs to the left of the earthy cornice. Back at the sacks we should really have had a Mad Hatter’s tea party, but as that gentleman was absent (I think), we contented ourselves with peanut butter sandwiches. The lure of Wonderland is hard to resist though, so we descended again for me to lead The Knave of Hearts, HS 4b, which climbs the line of stepped corners to the right of Alice’s Arete and proved to be a very enjoyable route. Still, what goes up must come down, so we abseiled off again and headed back to the Dihedral slabs. Lacking his fashion advisor, Steve decided to try his luck with a Mankini, which in this instance was thankfully a Severe rock climb and not a garment (any ladies reading this must show resolve and not let their imaginations run riot at this point). Moving in a suitably smooth, svelte manner, Steve despatched the climb with aplomb, and so we were back at the sacks again. Now for the interesting bit; retrieval of our abseil gear from below the earthy cornice. The 2018 CC supplement suggests that this can easily be done on top rope, but a preliminary study of the area revealed no anchors of any description. Casting our net further we roved around the grassy hillside above the crag, until some 40m back I found a good flat boulder, which once excavated to the rear and side, provided a firm anchor. In the meantime, Steve headed left and found a threadable boulder, 55m back, so deploying both climbing ropes and some rigging rope, we came up with a reliable, if rather stretchy anchor. On the grounds that I am older and probably have a shorter life expectancy than him, Steve determined that I should be the one to test this yo-yo like abseil set-up, so I commenced my bouncy descent. Alas, our choice of line took me to the very centre of the earthy cornice, so a hasty upwards retreat ensued. Adjustment of the take off point saw me on safer ground (everything’s relative) and the abseil kit was duly retrieved.

The forecast for Tuesday was good so an ascent of The Devil’s Slide, HS 4a, was planned. The Slide must be the south-west’s

most prominent rock feature as it looks like a 100m ski jump straight down into the sea. To be honest, the climbing is a bit repetitive, but the situation is outstanding, making it a classic outing. The descent involves a steep walk down a grassy gully to a large jammed boulder from which you make a 55m abseil to a rocky platform at the base of The Slide.

We were a little surprised to find that, due to seepage, the first pitch was wet, so I volunteered to lead that in exchange for pitch two; Steve having already commandeered the crux traverse of pitch three. Normally the first pitch is a romp, but taking a slightly more central line to avoid the wet made it feel unusually tricky. On the second pitch there is a choice of either a delicate white scoop or the rib to its right. Steve chose the latter and made good progress to the belay, where he psyched up for the traverse.

There are a few tricky moves to reach the start of the traverse, which is protected by an ancient peg. It’s in a rusty and dilapidated state, and it seems that someone has tried to remove it, but has only succeeded in turning it through 90 degrees, thus making it even less reliable. Despite being very hard to clip, Steve still managed to wiggle a thin sling through the peg’s eye and commenced the traverse. You wouldn’t think that a climbing career focussed on grunting and udging up strenuous off-width fissures would be good preparation for a delicate, run-out traverse, but Steve swaggered along it in a very nonchalant style and later declared it rather easy, and not the crux. I can think of at least one person who will be shocked at that.

Pitch four is really much more Steve’s style, but I got the joy of leading out on the steep cracks to complete a fine excursion. With multiple teams operating on Albion, Satan’s Slip and The Devil’s Slide, we felt that a slightly more reclusive route was in order, so after lunch we headed for the Devil’s Spine, a three pitch VS 4b. I’d climbed this once previously, in 2010, when I seconded the first pitch, and didn’t remember it being too hard, but it felt more like tough 4c today (good lead Erica). Being round the “back of the Slide” means the routes can be a bit furry, which judging by Steve’s expression was definitely not to his taste.

Confirming his dislike of the sea grass, Steve led a short part of the next pitch to an obvious belay spike then let me have the glory pitch up the spine itself. From below, this can look a little uninspiring.

However, the holds are all clean and the climbing is brilliant as you work your way along the spine.

The weather on Wednesday started off wet, but faired up at lunchtime, and with a stiff NW wind, the crags were bound to dry quickly, so we headed to The Battery where Steve started up Alouette, S, which is usually climbed in two pitches, the first of which follows an obvious stepped right-angle corner, although Steve seemed determined to hug the left edge, rather than the corner itself, which I thought would have been right up his street. When I arrived at the belay I congratulated him on his “Wilson Variation”, at which he seemed to take offence and pointed out that he had followed the guidebook. Having climbed Alouette at least half a dozen times, I was a little taken aback, so I read out the description, which proved my case, but Steve had been going by the topo, where the line is drawn in the wrong place. Ah well, even the best of guidebooks can contain errors. I continued up the delightfully steep and juggy top pitch.

This went really well so I felt it was time to tackle something from Erica’s banned list. When I say banned, what I mean is that Erica has refused to do them; in one case as a repeat, and in two others having seen me retreat from them. In total the list amounts to seven climbs on Lundy, the identities of which will remain secret until such time as I find a willing partner to do them with.

Arriving at the top of the scrambly finish to The Exorcist

First of the seven to be tackled was The Exorcist (not to be confused with the route of the same name in The Devil’s Limekiln that goes at E3 5b and comes with a description of “a unique and soul-searching adventure that requires great faith in what lies above” – even I’m not that daft). This particular Exorcist is found at the southern end of The Battery, is graded VS 5b, and is described as being deceptively steep. My previous attempt to climb this ended when it started raining, much to Erica’s relief as she clearly didn’t like the look of it. This time round, conditions were perfect; full sun and a strong cool wind, but was I up to tackling the deceptive steepness? Well, once you’re on it, it’s blatantly obvious how steep it is as it’s continuously overhanging for the first 9m. Having previously retreated without falls or rests, I was determined to go for a ground-up ascent, so kept climbing up to either work out a move or place a piece of gear before down-climbing again for a rest. This process continued until I was about 7m up and couldn’t reverse so I got another piece of gear in, then discovered that I couldn’t move up either. Still, I was hanging off a positive lay-away flake and could see what looked like a good finishing hold just 2m above; my only problems were a lack of footholds, a dubious top runner and some very rounded lay-away holds to get me up to the jug. Several attempts later and with strength waning I decided that I didn’t want to take the fall onto the dubious runner, so capitulated and shouted for Steve to take. This gave me the chance back-up the dodgy nut and try again, and again, and again. Eventually, after many attempts and many rests, I contrived a sequence of moves that solved the problem. Having patiently belayed me for what must have been a considerable time, Steve was keen to have a shot at the route. Battling hard and having fought his way to my sticking point, he sensibly elected to leave the last two runners that appeared to be welded into the rock, and with a final display of uncontrolled gurning, he made it to the top – a brilliant effort. As his reward for a clean ascent, Steve then had to lower down to remove the stuck runners and make the crux moves again – think it’s about time we started calling him Strong Steve.

After the strenuous technicality of The Exorcist, our minds turned to a more adventurous objective; an ascent of the Devil’s Chimney, which is the tallest sea stack on Lundy and possibly England. It’s also on Erica’s banned list for reasons of the challenging approach, the uncertain tidal window required to get up and down it, and the movement of the 15 foot high starting boulder (it got washed away!) that has seen the grade of The Original Route change from VS 4c to HVS 5b. However, last year, Pat Littlejohn no less, put up a new route on the Chimney at VS 4c which sounded more do-able. What to do for a warm-up though? Steve suggested the elusive Balthazar, via an abseil approach, so that’s what we went to do, however, elusive routes take a bit of finding and although we ascended a slab of around V Diff standard, it traversed rightwards, where Balthazar is supposed to go left. Maybe the guidebook is wrong, or maybe Steve had done a new route? Whatever the answer, it took longer than it should have and ate into our tidal window for the Chimney, so we abandoned that plan and looked for an alternative. Consulting my Lundy to-do list, Bridge of Sighs, HVS 5a, looked to fit the bill, although it would be like rubbing salt into the wound as it offers good views of the Chimney.

As with Wonderland, this is the work of Graham Everitt, a.k.a. Egg, who has put up many new routes on Lundy in recent years and this route in particular, is one that he has encouraged me to try. Descent of the buttress requires some care, especially towards the seaward end where it narrows and feels quite exposed, so some crafty rope-work is required to ensure safe passage to the start of the climb, which is located a couple of metres down a square cut groove. Once installed at the belay, Steve was very happy as that was the only shady place on an otherwise sun kissed buttress. Add in the lack of breeze and I could foresee warm work ahead. The climb takes a slightly rising traverse above the arch of the buttress on great rock, but it’s very featured, and the best line isn’t clear. The holds are also generally good, but often are side-pulls, which can make it feel quite strenuous, and with sweat glistening on the backs of my forearms, I knew I was probably over-gripping. Still, the climbing was good and absorbing, and initially there were plenty of runners, but as the traverse continued, these became more spaced and less obvious. At one point I wedged myself into a niche to try to get a rest and Steve thought that I’d disappeared into a chimney – what a role reversal that would have been. Progress beyond this point looked difficult and the supply of runners seemed to have dried up, so scanning around for options, I spied a square cut slot up to my left, which was perfect for my #5 Dragon – relief! Buoyed up by this I edged further right to where the route description advises making exposed moves over projecting blocks and flakes to easier ground. I liked the sound of the latter, but the former looked daunting, and again the runner supply had dried up. Spending some time in a stressed position I eventually fiddled in a rattly #1Wallnut, which didn’t inspire confidence, and recognising that on a traverse you’re often only as safe as your last runner, discretion seemed to dictate a tactical retreat. However, downwards lay the sea, so I had to retreat upwards to the eventual safety of the ridge above. So, two failures in two days – how disappointing – but what of Steve, once prised out of his shady corner? Well things started badly with a foot slip within the first two metres, but he held on and with much huffing and puffing, made his way along the traverse. Traverses can be just as serious for the second as for the leader, so Steve was very pleased with the quality gear that he found in the first section, and was particularly admiring of the #5 Dragon, but as for the rattly Wallnut; he declared it to be the worst runner he’s ever seen me place – next time I’ll bring my brass offsets and see if I can fully complete the route.

Friday, our last climbing day and having decided against a warm-up, we headed directly to The Devil’s Chimney. Being surrounded by taller “mainland” cliffs, it’s not easy to view the stack until you actually begin the approach. This initially descends a steep bracken clad slope, from which you need to locate a narrow grassy trod that cuts back sharply to access the steepening spur down which you make a 70m abseil to the sea-bed. The abseil anchor is a comfortingly large tombstone like flake embedded at the top of the spur. With age taking precedence I was first down the spur which is initially grassy, but becomes rockier as it steepens, until eventually overhanging slightly on brittle rock. This lands you in an atmospheric debris laden gully before a final descent down more solid terrain to the sea bed. At this point it’s fair to say that the stack looks quite intimidating.

With a gap through its middle and an alarming lean to the right, Steve was concerned that the stack was in imminent danger of toppling over, but he drew comfort from the fact that we would be avoiding the overhanging east face, which goes at a challenging E6. Instead, our route made a rising traverse to the west arête, which given my clothing choice of shorts and tee-shirt, was very welcome as I was soon into the sun, although getting there was a little precarious with some tricky moves up stepped flakes, followed by a long stride into this position:

Easier climbing then leads up to a commodious belay ledge.

The moves from here follow a steepening crack line with good gear but rather less for the feet than is ideal, so the moves took a bit of working out before I could get into a position to traverse to the south arête. Photography had ceased at this point as climber and belayer were both fully engrossed in their work, especially when what from below looked like a resting ledge, proved to be anything but, and the ensuing moves involved very careful handling of a slim, hollow-sounding shield of rock. Trying to pull inwards on it while stepping high proved interesting, but thankfully a solid flake was soon reached that provided holds and gear, but there was still a semi-mantelshelf moved required before you could get a proper rest. A traverse back left led to a short crack that gave access to the summit, which sports a large flat boulder perched atop a smaller, stubby one, both of which were entwined with multiple pieces of tat that were in varying stages of decay. Tying into that lot, I belayed Steve to the top where he expressed doubts about the grade, thinking it hard for VS 4c. Whatever the grade, it’s an excellent climb, but at this stage, the job was only half done, although with the tide still out, we had time for the obligatory summit shot.

Being public spirited, as well as being conscious of our own safety and the need to be able to retrieve our ropes without too much of a tussle, we made a few modifications to the abseil set up, then commenced the descent.

The abseil was pretty straight forward and nicely exposed:

However, despite our best efforts, it was a two man job to haul the ropes down, but once done, we were onto the last lap; re-ascent of our fixed rope. I had a Wild Country Ropeman for both foot and waist loops, which worked well, but proved quite strenuous, while Steve had a Ropeman and a Shunt, which seemed a less energy sapping set-up. Once up, the abseil rope was coiled and we made our way back across the narrow grassy trod to our sacks where we could finally relax and celebrate the successful completion of our adventure. This was followed up later on with a visit to the Tavern, where we had fish and chips, and Steve took on board the requisite amount of rehydration fuel.

On Saturday, Steve and Rachel returned to Ilfracombe on the MS Oldenburg:

Three Wise Slabs – first slab – first acsent?

I stayed on for three days on my own; then Erica joined me for anther week’s climbing, during which detailed explorations of both Kistvaen Buttress and Hidden Zawn highlighted the fact that where Steve thought he was leading Balthazar, he was in fact doing his first new route: The Three Wise Slabs, 35m, V Diff – not bad for your first sea cliff climbing trip!

Pensioner’s Progress

21st November 2017 by John Brayshaw Leave a Comment

Having hit the ripe old age of sixty in October, I thought that a good way to kick-off my early retirement would be to spend a fortnight on the Costa Blanca. Images of sun-loungers and bingo in Benidorm may spring to mind, but figuring that my friends would not be interested in such desultory pursuits, a climbing trip was planned instead. Sadly, a persistent knee injury kept Chris from joining us, so Shirley, Wardy, Phil and Erica made up the team, although only Wardy and me were present for the whole fortnight.

Thinking that we would be six, I had booked a nine-seater for the first nine days, but was a bit taken aback when presented with a long wheelbase Opel Vivaro, measuring 17 feet in length and 7 ½ feet in width – admittedly very comfortable for the passengers, but not ideal for some of the terrain that we would be likely to encounter. The owners of the villa that we were staying in looked equally surprised when just three of us rolled up in it to take up residence.

After a very leisurely start, the venue for day 1 was Toix Este, where we climbed the 5 pitches of Horst. Pitch 1 is the F4+ crux, and in the afternoon sun I was sweating buckets by the time I reached the belay. Shirley and John were both in agreement that it felt tough for its grade, but with easier pitches ahead, and the crag dropping into shade, progress felt more comfortable as alternated leads to the top.

Continuing the theme of leisurely starts, on day 2 we made our way to Abdet, which was a new venue for all of us. Unfortunately our explorations of the base of the crag seemed to stir up a wasps’s nest, so that ruled out a few of the easier routes. Keeping as far away from the irate insects as we could, we warmed up on El Placa Ocultado 2, which is actually an F4 (I’m not so far into my dotage that I’m seeking out F2s!) and provided a pleasant line up a rib and slab, with just one tricky move low down. Costilla del Jabali felt pretty stern at F5 with technical moves on a steepish wall, so we thought that we’d finish with some easier fare on La Paz, another route graded F4, but I’ve done easier F5s. I’d like to say that Abdet is harshly graded, but maybe that’s the way of things in retirement when everything feels hard for its grade.

Phil and Erica joined us on Saturday evening, and it seemed only fair to allow them a decent lie-in, so another leisurely start ensued on day 3. The vagaries of work pressures and domestic upheaval had led to the ladies of the party being in rather a fatigued state, so we sought out the ultimate roadside crag of Pego, which rivals Witches for the length of its walk-in. Taking advantage of the space provided by our cavernous vehicle, we added two sturdy wooden garden chairs to our climbing kit, along with padded cushions. Locating these in the shade, Shirley and Erica took their positions while the boys toughed it out on Plaqueta, an F4+ with a steep start leading to pleasant rib. Happily this felt about right for the grade, and I thought that I’d climbed it well, but the audience were clearly unimpressed as I found that, having removed the padded cushions from their chairs, they were both asleep, face down on the ground. Wardy seized his cue to occupy one of the vacated chairs, leaving me and Phil to size up Spare Rib, a steep F5. Rather too steep in fact, as I ended up resting on it. Can’t remember that having happened on an F5 before, and Phil getting it clean first go just served to rub salt into the wound. By this time I was looking longingly at the vacant garden chair next to Wardy and considering what type of pipe would go best with my slippers, but alas, my conscience got the better of me and having worked the moves on a top rope I finally managed to redpoint Spare Rib. At least Phil agreed that it was tough for the grade. Meanwhile the rest of the crew had returned to life and were making use of the rope that we had left in place on Plaqueta. As a finale, we climbed Mosquera, another tough F5 (bit of a trend emerging here) which brought a smile to our faces as the steep crack was a joy to climb and felt more like a beefy trad route than the usual Spanish clip-up (except for those handy bolts of course).

Day 4 dawned and the rather slothful climbing party made its usual lunchtime getaway, this time to Toix, starting on the Far Oeste sector. With no padded cushions in sight, Erica teamed up with me to ensure that she would get nice long rests between climbs as I made my leisurely progress up the routes. Eve went smoothly at F4, but a slight error in judgement on my part saw me 45m up the crag on Bernd, also F4, which led to Erica having to second the route before being promptly lowered back to the ground. Two abseils later and I joined her, only to discover that she had spotted shade and was retiring for a nap. A quick reshuffle of the team saw me and Phil heading up the hill to Toix Placa, where we encountered a blunt Lancastrian lurking beneath a wide-brimmed hat. Appearing to be of a Whilensian disposition, we carefully negotiated our way around him and set up shop beneath Thalia, F6b+, a route that I first tried last year, but without success. Perhaps now, with greater experience and a clutch of F4s and 5s behind me on this trip, I might stand a better chance. No breeze and the blistering afternoon sun had other ideas though, and combined with a general lack of technique, power and flexibility, I was dogging the crux again. Recognising the difficulty, Phil elected to use a top-rope but fared no better, so it was back to the villa to lick our wounds.

Day 5 saw us away at the relatively early hour of 11.00 to the delights of Echo Valley, with Echo 1.5 as our chosen crag. Me, Phil and Wardy started on Bicton itc 08, a pleasant F4, then me and Phil headed up the hill to a new buttress with three routes on it. Bad Biscuits at F4+ was rather tasty, Luke’s a Big Bumblebee was no pushover at F5, and thankfully we were fully warmed up for Am I Bothered (F5) – well I certainly was as it was at least F5+! Returning to the main crag we found that the blunt Lancastrian was on our trail again, but when he offered Erica a top-rope on X.M.A.S. (F6a), she quickly put him to rights by telling him that she didn’t appreciate a tight rope and didn’t want talking up the route. Suitably admonished, he could only gaze in awe at Erica’s deft footwork. While he was distracted, me and Phil wandered up to the upper crag for a look a Marian Jones, a rather fine F6a once the initial shrubbery had been left behind. The only route that we hadn’t done on the upper crag was Sin Chapa (F6a+) which starts fairly easily before a very thin section allows you to teeter up to the crux bulge. The appropriate method seemed to involve using an undercut to gain a crimp, then stepping up to launch for a jug. Sadly, the crimp was rather small and despite several tries, holding on to it while moving through just wasn’t working. With the on-sight still intact I spotted an alternative sequence that would allow a big span to a lay-way before going for the jug. However, a lack of upward momentum saw me on the thinner bottom edge of the lay-way and then gravity took it course. With the on-sight now blown I managed a proper rest and then went at it with a spot more dynamism and managed to latch the jug – relief! I think my fall must have put Phil off because he chose to top-rope it, and unusually for him, was on the crux for ages, but with no more joy than me. Bit of a bugger really because two years ago we both managed clean ascents of the hardest route at the crag, but then that is a slab………..

Day 6 and we were in the van at just gone 10.30 for another visit to Toix Oeste. Shirley led the very pleasant and very long (50m) single pitch of Ralf (F3) before we embarked upon the 4 pitches of George (F3+) which took us to the top of the crag. Subsequent ascensionists would be well advised to ignore the Rockfax topo, which is wrong for pitches 3 & 4, and instead, follow the arrows painted on the rock. From the top of the route, a short scramble leads to the 4^th belay of Horst, down which we abseiled. Unfortunately the rope got stuck, so I had to climb back up a bit to free it, but thankfully it was on an easy section of the route so it didn’t hold us up too much.

Marin was our destination for day 7, and we made a scandalously early start by leaving the villa at 9.45, which meant that we were on the rock before noon. Climbing with Phil and Erica, I started out on Hurly Burly (F5) which is nicely but inappropriately named as it’s more of a slab with a thin crux section. The burliness was to follow on Super Jose, a steep F5+ that proved to be an efficient warm up for the rather more sturdy Conginipollas (F6b). In 2014, when rain stopped play on all but the steepest of ground, we had deployed the clip stick to set up a top rope on this route which climbs up out of a cave, and so stayed largely dry. Just clear blue skies today so I set about leading it, and all went well until the final bulge where the holds firstly became less friendly, then seemed to disappear altogether. Employing the same tactics as on Sin Chapa, my up and down strategy paid off this time with a committing move right to a flake, followed by a crafty right heel hook, which allowed me to crest the bulge and reach the chain. Clearly there’s something to be said for pensioner power. Phil similarly despatched the route on top rope, but without the heel hook, and Erica declined as she had her eyes on an on-sight attempt at Aniversario (F5+), which climbs the groove and arête just left of Johny on the main face. This proved to be the highlight of the day, and for me, the best single pitch route of the trip. It’s a climb of three parts, with the first involving a long but easy run-out to the first bolt, followed by a tricky off-balance step up and left to gain the groove. It all feels pretty intimidating as the rock beneath you disappears into a series of large caves and hollows. The next section is steeper and more blocky, where thoughts of giant Jenga spring to mind as you tap the blocks to make sure they’re secure. This section in particular feels more like something lifted from a Pembroke HVS, and the spaced bolts only add to the atmosphere. The final rib is really exposed and feels quite steep, but is on very positive holds that make for a great finale to a brilliant route. It had been on my reserve list for a while, insofar as it looked good, but also rather scary, so good effort from Erica for getting on it and showing the way.

The morning of day 8 saw us at Crag X, which is described in the Echo Valley section of the guide, but actually sits on the eastern side of the road, away from the main valley. Climbing with Shirley and John, we did Boquete (F3+), The Lekker KerKerKer (F3+ with an echo!), both of which had their first bolt hangers removed, which was rather mean, but didn’t dissuade us as the starts were pretty easy. We then climbed Por Encima de Todo (F4), while Phil was getting stuck into Derecho Surco (F6a) which proved very enjoyable to above the fourth bolt, but then he discovered that the hanger had been removed from the fifth, so faced with a monster run-out on unknown ground, he did the sensible thing and lowered off, leaving behind a maillon. Phil being Phil, remained calm , if slightly perplexed, but I was quite angry – it’s bad enough taking hangers from the bottom of routes, but from half way up – where’s the sense in that? So, saying goodbye to Crag X in rather bad humour, we headed across the road to Paret de la Bassa, where Shirley tried her hand at redpointing Fallora (F5). This is a really nice route that climbs a slabby rib with a number of slight variations on the line. Shirley tried all these on top-rope before committing to the lead, and then surprisingly went with the steeper but more juggy variation. On the crux move the outcome looked in doubt, but remembering to step uo on the key footholds gave her enough height to reach through to a very comforting jug. After that it was a smooth cruise to the top, then high fives all round. Meanwhile Phil and Erica were making sure of their F6a for the day with ascents of Arandelon, this time with all bolts in place. With Erica, Phil and Shirley going home the next day, Phil prepared one of his outstanding paellas for our evening meal, which was a fitting finale before leaving me and Wardy to our own devices.

With airport drop-off and change of vehicle and accommodation looming, day 9 was a rest day. On the way to the airport we called in at the Orange House to drop off our bags and survey the accommodation. It’s fair to say that our bijou two person bunkroom put more emphasis on size (very small) rather than elegance (not immediately obvious) but it would suffice. Then it was on to the airport where we said goodbye to the Vivaro (although as it transpired, I’d not heard the last of it, as the Spanish police are currently trying to track me down in relation to a speeding misdemeanour, which is a bit rich given how sedately I was driving for the whole trip). We had lunch together, where Phil took a backward step on the gastronomic front with a Burger King double whoppa, then we said our goodbyes. Now free of the socializing influences of more refined friends, me and Wardy could let rip, but first, time to collect our hire care. Sticking with the bijou theme, our nine-seater was to be replaced by a Fiat Panda. Looking me up and down, the car hire official immediately offered me an upgrade on account of the fact that he thought I wouldn’t fit in it – and he’d yet to catch sight of Wardy. Recognizing this as a ploy to get more money out of me, I declined his offer and we hastened to the parking to inspect our steed. First impressions were a little disappointing, as with 58k on the clock it’s best days looked to be behind it, but then considering my latest life stage, I felt that the odd imperfection could be looked upon as a sign of knowledge and experience, and indeed, the Panda proved to be a fine companion with plenty of room for two and go anywhere driveability. We did look like poor relations at the Orange House though, once we’d parked up next to all the shiny new hire cars.

Bijou bunkroom notwithstanding, we were ready for more adventures on day 10 and what better venue than Toix Este and the very appealing Super Kulore – 260m of F4 in 8 pitches that girdle the majority of the crag – guaranteed to make you popular on a Bank Holiday. In fact, we hadn’t seen anyone else climbing on our three previous visits and so it proved today. The Rockfax is rather coy about the line as it only depicts pitches 1, 6, 7 and 8 on the topo, leaving you in tracker mode for the bulk of the route as you follow arrows and the painted initials “SK”. There are also plenty of in-situ threads and the odd bolt for company, so what could possibly go wrong? Wardy had done the first 15m with Phil and Erica as it shares the start of Kulore (F4) that they’d done earlier in the week, and so he was insistent that I lead the first pitch as he claimed it had hurt his fingers. Given his senior partner status on the team, I deferred to this request and set off up the finger shredding pitch. 35m later, and with some skin still remaining, I was happy to tie into the belay. Having seconded the pitch, wardy completed a comprehensive digit check, and finding everything present, launched off into the unknown. There were sufficient threads and arrows to mark the way as the route changed into traversing mode. It’s not horizontal though, as it generally continues as a rising traverse, with the odd bit of down-climbing to keep you on your toes. All went well on pitch three, then Wardy took over for pitch 4, which is only given F3, but a recent rock-fall had left the holds covered in a sandy dust, which made for a rather unnerving passage, and in its present state, felt like the crux of the route – good lead Wardy. I may have got a bit carried away on the next pitch, and probably ran two together, as we ended up completing the route in seven pitches. The last two were uneventful, other than for the fact that Wardy’s led was becoming a bit painful. Moving across to the anchor that would get us to the top of Hortst, and it’s twin abseil, Wardy stepped up and felt a sharp pain in his calf, which meant he couldn’t push up on his toes. This made for a slightly sombre end to what had otherwise been a good outing, but at least the abseil was trouble free with no stuck ropes. Over dinner, Wardy thought it would be best to avoid climbing on the next day, but was happy to belay me on one of my “harder” routes, so Sella became the destination for day 11….

Got up early and left the Orange House at 8.15 to give me time to get warmed up and then get on Wagageegee (F6a+), my nemesis from three previous trips, before the sun got on it. The Panda played its part by bouncing up the track to where Costa Vertical (owners of the top of the gorge) have their premises. Sadly the plan failed as the route catches the sun quite early, so I did a couple of ascents of Legally Bolted (F5) and another couple of Macha (F6a). Couldn’t load the Costa Vertical topo for the new sectors on my phone, so picked a couple of lines which may or may not have been Status Quo on Speed Dial (F5), and Traditionally Bolted (F4+). The hope was that Wagageegee would go into shade as the afternoon progressed, but when it became apparent that that wasn’t going to happen, I decided to call it a day with an ascent of Solo Sun Rise (F5+) which has a slightly run-out slabby start, leading to a steep and juggy rib, which looks intimidating, but climbs brilliantly – definitely one to recommend.

Day 12 and Wardy was still resting his leg so we had a 7.45 departure for me to have another attempt at Thalia. This time my target was in the shade, and wanting to keep it that way, I had a quick run up Alasdair (F3+) to warm up, then donned my 5.10 Prism’s to give me a technical edge, but I still couldn’t make the crux move. Tried it repeatedly on a top rope, changed my shoes to a more flexible pair, but all to no avail. Somewhat disconsolate I wandered further along the crag looking for something steady that I’d not already done, and settled on Hafa (F4+). To be honest, it didn’t look too inspiring with slightly broken rock, spaced threads, and a fluttery heart symbol in the Rockfax, but an on-sight is an on-sight. It wasn’t long before I was wishing that I hadn’t left my wires in the car, as the rock was slightly unnerving, and some of the ancient threads looked like thick bootlaces – definitely not a route to fall off. Eventually I was rewarded with a couple of bolts, but no lower-off, so I sacrificed a screwgate to make a rather relieved descent to terra firma. Still seeking another on-sight, we wandered back down to the Far Oeste Sector where I ticked Darola (F3+) and called it a day. I must record my thanks to Wardy for his sterling belaying efforts, it’s just a shame that I couldn’t capitalise and bag one of my “harder” objectives.

Day 13 didn’t quite work out as planned, with a false start at El Castellet in the Echo Valley. Our chosen route of The Wasp (VS) was taken, so we sized up the The Scorpion (HS), but a total lack of fixed gear and only one set of wires with us persuaded us to retreat to our regular haunt of Toix Este, where we climbed the 4 pitch Espolon Arta (F4). Wardy had previously done the first two pitches, so he elected to run them together as his fitness test, which he passed with flying colours, then I led pitch 3 and Wardy took us to the top. Abseiled back down Horst again, and as usual, had the crag to ourselves.

Day 14, and the last day of climbing. Via Pany on the Penon de Ifach was our chosen route, and one that had been on my list for quite a while. Given British VS overall, with seven pitches where the hardest is rated at F5. In deference to Wardy’s (recovering) leg injury, we agreed that I would lead all the pitches, but I have to say that the sight of the introductory pitch had me wishing that Steve Wilson was in the party, given that it was an intimidating looking chimney. Wardy adopted a phlegmatic stance that clearly spelled out that I ought to get on with it, so I did, and was rewarded with a plethora of natural threads, each of which was slinged with much appreciation. Emboldened by the gear, I kept out of the beast’s maw by bridging up the outside (I can hear Steve shouting “sacrilege” but I didn’t want to dirty my new Rab top!). In fact, the climbing was very enjoyable and all too soon I was climbing the rib that led to the belay. Pitch 2 was a scrappy affair involving much vegetation and the odd hard step, but it did advance us another 50m up the climb. Pitch 3 is graded F3, but clearly by someone who hasn’t climbed it, because it has a move on it that’s as hard as anything on the climb! Wardy resorted to Cornish tactics on his ascent, but I don’t think he’d noticed that I had witnessed his sleight of hand when he declared that it wasn’t really that hard. Pitch 4 is supposedly the crux, and climbs a steep chimney (Steve, this is a must do route for you) which again succumbs to elegant technique rather than brute force (“shame” cries the man from Saltaire) and again gives excellent climbing. Pitch 5 was very gentle at F4+ and nothing special, and it was starting to look like the route was in the bag. But hold on, pitch 6, graded F4, comprised of thin, technical slab climbing on smooth rock with lots of side-pulls and precious few jugs, which for me made it the crux pitch. By paying too much attention to the guidebook description, I tried to go off route at the start of pitch 7, but Wardy kindly pointed out the bolt that I was studiously ignoring, which got me back on track and soon saw me belayed a few metres below the summit. For his sterling belaying, Wardy got the honour of topping out, and celebrated by dropping a sling round the summit monolith to belay me up the last few moves. Having shivered in the shade most of the day, it was great to be in sunshine on the summit, where we joined a mixture of tourists in t-shirts, arguing seagulls and a couple of cats – mother and child by the looks. The graunchy climbing symbol in Rockfax is ill deserved, as just a bit of nous will outwit anything thuggish, but then, if you’ve been training hard on beer and pies, you might just fancy a tussle! Either way, I’d rate the climb very highly and it made a grand finale to the trip. We had planned to eat out that evening, but not getting back to the car until well after dark and feeling rather fatigued, we called in at the Masymas supermarket and treaded ourselves to two tins of Heinz tomato soup and two bread rolls – yes, we know how to live.

Our journey home was uneventful, although on being handed back, the Panda was subjected to a most rigorous check, including, under-body, roof and interior – do I look like someone who would go off-roading in a rented car?

Safely back in Britain, I think it’s fair to say that I’ve made a good start to life as a pensioner, and plan to have many more adventures in the future – keep watching this space…………………….

John

Pavey Ark Meet Report

26th June 2017 by John Brayshaw 1 Comment

With rain on the Friday and drizzle on the Saturday, it was on the cards that this meet wouldn’t be attracting a big attendance, but with two CMC members and two guests it did go ahead. I teamed up with Mr Wilson, and we were joined by Mr and Mrs Justice, who were confident enough in the conditions to cash in a good few babysitting tokens. I’m pleased to report that parenthood doesn’t seem to have changed them much; Laura being as relaxed and easy-going as ever, while Dan remains focussed and driven. I made a sound tactical move on the ascent to Stickle Tarn by engaging Laura in conversation, thus enjoying a reasonable pace, while Dan and Steve disappeared up the track like stormtroopers on a mission (sorry Steve, but I’ve played the keeping up with Dan game before).

Reunited at Stickle Tarn, Steve asked where our intended line of Crescent Slabs went; “through all that water running down the crag” replied an unimpressed Mr Justice, who went on to suggest that an alternative venue might offer a better return for his investment of babysitting tokens. I headed this off by pointing out that the routes above Jack’s Rake appeared to be in much better condition, and thus appeased, we made for the foot of the crag.

Dan and Laura chose Rake End Wall (VS) for their first climb, while being fearful of a nasty attack of aquaphobia, Steve and I ascended most of Jack’s Rake in search of an alternative warm-up route. Carefully picking our way past a recently deceased Herdwick, we eventually reached the foot of Roundabout (S). This is listed in the guide as having a very clean and enjoyable third pitch, but close scrutiny of the route suggested that this particular roundabout would merit the addition of a sign bearing the legend “Sponsored by Hayes Garden World”. Even Erica, who hates to see harm come to any plant, would have to agree that the first two pitches required some serious pruning as they resembled a wild garden that had got completely of hand, so much so that barely any rock was visible. fortunately the “quality” third pitch was out of view so we weren’t tempted to set forth on what Steve described as “the worst climb he’s ever seen”, and believe me, we’ve tackled some pretty dubious routes together.

With nothing else at a viable grade, and with the clock ticking, we decided to skip the warm-up, and head straight to the main event of Coati, a three pitch VS that was first put up as recently as 2011. The only drawback was the proximity of the deceased Herdwick, which despite my warnings to their owner, fell prey to the attentions of two Border Terriers. Clearly it was time for lunch, for bipeds as well as quadrupeds, so despite the gnashing canines above us, we tucked into our butties. Suitably restored, I set off on the first pitch, which was accurately described by the guidebook as being steeper than it looked (as they so often are!), but with good holds, improving gear and the deployment of a spot of guile and cunning, the steepness was outwitted and a fine belay arrived at. Steve followed up with a smile on his face and decided that it was time for a spot of photography. Alas, the camera was malfunctioning, the result Steve thought of having sat on it, so I’m afraid that there’s no photographic record of the meet.

Undeterred by the this setback, Steve proceeded up the second pitch, which offered a more gentle angle than the previous one, but with a conspicuous lack of gear in its mid-section. This was unusual territory for Steve, whose preference is for rather wide fissures measuring anything from 6 inches to several feet across. With no hope of slotting in his number 6 Camelot, which on this occasion I’d convinced him to leave at home, he continued to scrutinise the rock for any viable protection opportunity, but without any joy, so with tricky moves ahead, Steve took a couple of calm pills and continued on his journey. Several moves later, and with the definite prospect of rejoining me at the belay if he fluffed it, he breathed a large sigh of relief as a solid wire was slotted in. More deft footwork on the wonderfully grippy rock saw Steve through to the belay, and with a grin of Cheshire Cat dimensions, he brought me up to join him.

At first glance, the third pitch looked rather daunting, as it’s steep with few obvious holds and not much in the way of gear, but every time you move up you’re rewarded with a jug or a bomber gear slot, and with that super-grippy rock, you can always keep your weight on your feet. At the belay we both agreed that it was a terrific route, with continuously interesting and varied climbing – a real classic without the polish. The only drawback was the appearance of the midges, so we made a rapid scramble to Pavey’s summit where we enjoyed a celebratory handshake.

We’d hoped to do another route, but the attentions of the midges made that a less attractive proposition, so we descended the rake, carefully avoiding the sheep which now had a scrambler’s rope running through it (!) and headed out to the edge of the tarn to pick up some breeze before sorting the gear. From our vantage point we could see the Justices on Capella (E1), which Dan later described as being dry where it mattered (no sign of aquaphobia there then). Laura’s comment was that she had thought her tree climbing days to be over, but to avoid the wet at the start of the first pitch, she’d felt compelled to use it as it offered the best way of making safe progress.

All in all, a very enjoyable meet, so now it’s time to look forward to Gimmer in two weeks time. Fingers crossed for the weather.

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