New rock and new horizons - a date with slate and back on form.

My last post reflected on one of my negative experiences on rock and stepping to far out of the comfort zone. But on a recent visit to Wales I found that when you do things properly your climbing can come good.

Driving into the car parking by Bus stop quarry you have no idea of what is around the corner. The dark grey landscape has the look of a Tolkien landscape. Cant help thinking the Welsh really know how to fuck up the landscape (but thanks anyway). As you walk around, the sound of slate cracking beneath your feet I start to feel anxious about what I will find, after all we had no guide book and the rumours about climbing on slate had left me feeling nervous. But, once we reached the Australia sector the mood changes and I started to feel a little comforted by my surroundings. Everything was bolted well, none of the stupid wide spaced bolting you find in the peak district and the lines of the climbs looked pleasant.

After looking around I decided enough is enough and its time to do something. Picking a route I liked the look of I tied on and jumped on and was pleasantly surprised by what I found. It was climbing indoors, the holds were there you just had to be able to use them. I found out that this route and the next to follow were graded VS - yes for those who don't know some slate routes carry trad grades - and were immense fun. Sometimes you have to get away from the hard stuff and just enjoy yourself, something I forgot about later when the dark shadow of competitiveness creeped in.

After a friend and experienced climber had lead a route graded E2 6a called Gaddafi Duck, one of the newest climbers in our outing and one full of enthusiasm decided to get on it as well and lead it. This was ok I wasn't to bothered but as my main climbing partner decided to jump on the route and have a go as well and succeed I decided I couldn't let that go and decided to have a go myself - its good having someone to climb with, with whom you have healthy competition. After a couple of attempts top roping ,a failed lead attempt down to a real lack of commitment, to many mental distractions and with the climbing party distracted and not paying attention I jumped back on. I can't climb with an audience, well not straight away.  The first part of this route is the hardest and when your grip strength isn't a strength at all you need to think a bit unconventionally - compared to some climbers I know anyway - and make use of what you've got.

In four wheel drive mode to make the first clip 

on Gaddafi Duck E2 6a/6b+

Solving problems is part of what I love about climbing and the picture above says it all. Knowing I couldn't hold on and make the clip I needed another pair of hands to stay on the rock and so used my foot to toe hook the hand rail to my left. After this it was time to make what I call the Pete Whitaker - the high step move to bring your foot by your hands and rock over as much as you can and grab that arete and pull and push to the final relief of being able to stand up straight and relax a little before the next committing balancing act and strange body shapes that seem to define this route.

The high step move on Gaddafi makes you 

wish you took up Yoga.

The rest of this route becomes a lot easier but very pleasant. I'm glad that competitiveness is there or I would have missed out on a great climb. But realised that I must make sure I climb routes for the right reason, jealousy is never a good motivator - but I soon realised that the jealousy was born out of others and how they approached me and climbing, stirring things up negatively and so realised I must climb for my own reasons, a little competition is good but should never be the main reason for climbing and you should have some fun along the way, no matter what twisted form it comes in, when things stop being fun the motivation drops.

The day was finished off with a bit of fun, after all all work no play makes Matt a dull boy. Having watched everyone else climb Solstice (HVS 5a) I decided I would have a go plus I needed to retrieve some gear. I decided this would be a speed run and try and climb as smoothly and quickly as possible the 24 meter climb. I looked at the moves and run though my head what I was going to do but made sure at the same time I kept an open mind incase things were different. Which they were at the top, having the open mind though allowed me to move through the final moves easily to reach the top in 2min and 19sec. Not to bad I. Showed myself how the right mental attitude and a top rope can make a massive difference in your climbing.

Running up Solstice HVS 5a Bus Stop Quarry.
A nice fun route one to come back and lead.

The following day it was time for a few climbs around Tremadog a beautiful place where the rock rises out of the trees to tower above the road and the homely Eric Jones' Climbers' Cafe. After eying up the route called Y Broga (HVS 5a) for a few days I talked myself into doing the route. Having not had much success on grit stone hvs routes I was confident it being a slab would fall to my strengths, with its mixture of slap and layback climbing up a corner.

Y Broga - HVS 5a Tramadog

Placing the gear was easy, all the footholds were good and the gear was near the crux so the run out didn't worry me, but as I made my way through the crux sequence of laybacking off a polished slab the route started to take its toll, I finally managed to grab a loose chock stone and pull up to the end of the pitch. It felt amazing, almost warming to do this. More than mere satisfaction, deeper than that.  But the fun wasn't over. 

Ben leading the second pitch on Y Broga.

His first trad lead.

After letting my partner climb the second easier and good all round pitch (which was his first trad lead so hats off to him) I was faced with the last pitch. Climbing up the short slab to the arete I was faced with sheer exposure. Climbing up on thin finger cracks, poor-ish slopers and feeling the pump set in I fiddled in the gear as best I could edging upwards, my mind set on the hope of reaching my final destination  

but at the same time immersed in the moment. I place one more bit of gear as I hung on to the arete, feeling nothing but air and rock around me, my wire half in and half out of the crack I make the final move to a surprising jug and the easy moves to the top, my heart pumping and the feeling of relief and joy flooded through me.

An amazing weekend that showed me what can be accomplished with the right and wrong type of motivation. The wrong motivation was falling into the grasp of jealousy and competitiveness without first having that bit of fun at the same time even though it resulted in doing a great climb. The right motivation was my love of certain styles of climbing in this case slabs and the confidence in my ability to climb them, sometimes as a friend once said you have to focus on your strengths as well as your weaknesses. And above all I extended my comfort zone, not by much but just a little to make a difference in the future, enough for my brain to be happy with, sometimes you have to walk before you can run. My horizons are becoming that little bit clearer in the mind bedding world of climbing as I realise more about myself and what lays ahead. 

When is soloing bad for your climbing.

Recently I found I have increasingly started soloing routes more and more. Nothing big, nothing massively hard just fun low grade routes. But on a recent trip to the Peak District I found myself soloing more and more, but why, and why did this end up effecting my climbing so much.

Soloing a route can be a liberating experience. There is no rope, no waiting, you climb when YOU are ready.

When you are leading at least VS routes, soloing a VDiff should be a fairly simple affair in terms of technicality and difficulty. But when you start pushing the grade you solo does this affect your climbing in general.

Climbing at Stanage in the unconquerable area I decided to warm up by soloing the easy routes near by,  Mods, Diffs, all the way up to Severe and Hard Severe. Pleasant routes, not much gear but not very hard either but certainly enjoyable. I then eye up  a short VS, I look at the moves and as I gaze I find my mind committing to each one, I haven't even started climbing yet but I have already decided with intent to make each move. I get on the route and move through each section with ease. Before the climb I remember thinking I had soloed every grade from Mod up to VS, I pushed myself to climb all the grades to complete the link.

I then go off and second a route with a friend, a tough little route requiring a committing lead, which she did very well. On the decent I spied two people climbing/top roping a VS 5a (Tridymite slab, a route with no gear and not a particularly good landing) a grade which in my humble opinion requires confidence and ability. Looking at the route I was already committing to the moves again, feeling the route take hold, pulling myself towards it. I asked my friend to spot me just encase. I started making the moves one at a time, the climbing pleasant but certainly committing. After topping out I started thinking I must stop this before I do something stupid, I started scaring myself. At the same time I was scared yet psyched by what I had just done.

On that day no longer did I look at a route and commit to its moves, nor did I feel the pull of the route, only the pushing of a mind, scared by what I had done.

On reflection maybe what had been whispers in my ear to solo the routes was my intuition, not something I've had a lot of contact with, and my conscious mind was trying to fight it off by scaring me with negative talk instead of embracing what I had found, keeping me in the extreme comfort zone that is having two feet on the ground.

But why was this bad for my climbing, because I let the negative self talk take over, I wasn't ready, the conscious mind overwhelmed by what I was doing, and so it shouted out the voice of my inner-self which if I had listened to it would have seen me do far more climbing that day and learn a lot more about myself.  I also hadn't warmed up my mind to climbing, by soloing your jumping into the deep end of risk, which can be fine as long as you prepare yourself, by assessing the risk, accepting the responsibility, make the choice and commit, while at the same time trusting your inner self.

To back off or not to back off that is the question.

Another day and another day out on the rock trying to push my limits, the difference with this day was the over whelming sense of fear.

This was my first day out climbing for a few weeks, and decided to go to Rivelin, a very picturesque crag in the Peak District. I decided my warm up climb would be a slabby E1called Better Late than Never. A lovely climb in its self, as I moved up the slab I could feel my heart beat raising and the nerves starting to shred apart, for some reason my confidence in my slab climbing ability started to waver. Keeping strictly to the left of the route I slowly edged my way up the route, having placed a runner at 1/3 height I kept going eventually getting 3/4 up the route and finally my nerves were shot, I only had one bit of gear in and I started to panic and look around more options, I could escape right but I desperately wanted to complete the route, finally using the right arete and a small sandy scoop at arms length I managed to just stand up and make the final easy moves to the top. At the top I was shaking but so happy to be there.  First route of the day and the first decision of whether to back off or keep going, this time I went with the later.

After brining up my second it was decided to do Scarlett's Chinmey. A route graded VS 4b, so should have been well with in my grade.  Making my way up the corner towards the crack the moves were great and upon reaching the chimney I placed my first bit of gear. I let out a sigh of getting some gear in, making the next moves I start getting into the chimney. It looks so tight, how can I chimney this. I place another bit of gear and start to struggle and can feel my arms pumping, I down climb to my first gear placement to rest and then go at it again realising where my feet need to go. Getting into the chimney proper I start to panic, my whole body is feeling tired of pushing against the rock, I want to get some gear into a bomber placement but as I retrieve my nuts from my harness to my horror I see that the karabiner holding the nuts got caught on something and the nuts tumbled down the chimney to the ground. Luckily I was left with two nuts and of the right size, but, in my panic I wedge the wrong size nut into the crack unable to get it out I clip it. realising there is no turning back I start to make my way up the chimney edging my feet and body up bit by bit until eventually I reach a big ledge where I can get my breath back, I finish up the route this time with a lot more ease. Unfortunately my second cant make the route or retrieve the gear ( I managed to get one but not the nut I got stuck oh well). What a climb, never have I been so stressed on a climb that should be within my grade. Thats what chimneys do to you.

We decided to take things a bit easier and do a vdiff, just to chill out. once done I decided to do the route left of Better Late than Never call Left Edge graded VS 4c. This route was a joy, slightly bold and delicate but to me easy no question. My climbing partner wanted to lead a trade route something he hadnt done before. I found a nice little number another VDiff with lots of gear, setting off he placed the gear, slightly spaced out, his lack of experience meaning he missed easy gear placements, 3/4 up he got to the crux, not able to find gear placements he made the choice to go for the top luckily he made it. While he found his anchors for a belay I decided I would start soloing up the route, as soon as I started I found this route was tougher than it appears, making my way I felt the fear creep in, why, why was this happening again. Where was the confidence I had on so many routes. Was it the absence of my usual climbing partner, who has allowed me to progress so much and complete routes I would never have done without him. I continued up the route reaching the crux, my second looked over not believing what I was doing.  Seeing the moves needed I committed to the crux, I couldn't down climb and my second had not set up a top rope yet, I went for it and topped out to my relief.

5 routes down, 3 of which had called me to question what I was doing but a route to come would test me even more. Fringe Benefit E1 5b and a slab, my kind of route. The start of Fringe Benefit was a little tough, almost like a problem inits self, a very small microwire gives some confidence to mantle up onto the route proper.  Once on the route I started  making my way across and up the slab. The climbing was good and I was feeling slightly confident though nervous at the same time. I reached the first gear placement, my foot on a semi good smear I started grabbing some gear in specific a small cam, the nerves was shaking big time, my body shaking, I tried the cam but it was bigger than the slot, I tried to slide a nut, no good. I looked around and found I had a way out, a tricky traverse to the right towards a tree. I decided to escape the route. I edged out towards the tree, balancing my way to the edge of rock by the tree. I made it down the relief was immense.

I had made the right choice, I couldn't have felt so relieved if I had fallen off and broken something. In my relaxed state I realised I had another cam on my harness, this one was smaller than the one I had tried to place, bugger. The rest of the route looked far easier. The mistake I made was not not placing the right cam but not staying calm and breathing, I was panicking and in such a state even my escape could have turned sour.

On reflection I've learned my usual climbing partner(s) have become part of my comfort zone and without them pushing beyond the comfort zone requires something else, not just a bigger set of balls. I need to make sure I re-assess the risks and the options that are available to me as I climb. I've also learned that warming up the mind and confidence is as important as warming up the body.

Taking the fall is it fear of the fall or something deeper.

After a great day climbing out in the Peak district I find myself reflecting on the events of the day and not only the day but my whole short climbing career.

Over the last few weeks I have taken a good number of falls while attempting to onsite routes either above my grade or on rock type I just don't get to try very often and as the weeks go on not only am I less worried about taking a fall but finding myself to be happy about laughing at what has just happened.  This weekend was no exception.

Went off to Harborough rocks, a small dolomitic crag in the southern peak district, noted for polish and groups of kids top roping. Today though it was quiet, though no less polished. After soloing an un-nervingly polished VDiff and leading an over graded HS I decided enough was enough it was time to up the grade and take on something harder. I picked out an HVS called Jug, the crux section on which is no more than six meters.  I spied some gear from the ground and felt comfortable that a fall would be safe. After a couple of goes I managed to get to whats probably the crux, hanging off to small finger pockets and with sweaty fingers slipping out of their holds I managed to shout take just before coming off. As I fell the rock was a blur shooting upwards and before I knew it I felt the tug of my harness as the rock caught me and then the feeling of ground beneath my feat looking up to see my belayer looking down at me. We instantly started laughing, and I found my self back on the rock this time moving through the crux and topping out.

Later in the day I saw my friend Ander fall off whilst soloing Legs Over a 6m VS and I instantly jumped on and soloed the route, being told I must be mad for soloing after seeing Ander fall off it seconds earlier. In times gone by I would never and done this, I would never have soloed it either, I would never have soloed fall stop.

At the end of the day we took a trip to Black rocks, I'd never been there before but had seen an E1 in the guide book called Central Buttress Direct (E1 5a), I loved the look of it and it just spoke to me, my kind of route a bold slab. Ander warned me that Black rock routes had a sting in their tale. With the light dying I tied on and went for the lead (feeling a little pressure as I had suggested a quick earlier in the day and felt slightly obliged, no fault of anyone else I must add) Just getting off the ground was hard, I wanted to place gear in the first break but told there was no point - which there wasn't - I just wanted the comfort of knowing it was there. I made the first moves but they weren't quite right and lowered myself back down, looked at it again and had another final go. I made the moves this time and made my way to the next big break where I placed my first bit of gear at 7 meters. Moving up to the break with my borrowed cam I stood up made another quick mantle and faced the next section probably the crux, which was another big move up to another break, looking around there was a small side pull on a hollow flake but no smears lower down to get me started. I took a look down and saw the ledge below with my gear, an un-nerving site, it was a fall I didn't want to take, landing on the ledge could hurt. Searching around I found I could just reach the next break I just had to find the smear I could use to send me on my way, looking around I found what looked to me the only one at waist hight. I stood there thinking about the consequences, not in a deep meaningful way but with thoughts thats formed a background noise in my head. Hearing my friend telling me I have to just go for it, I accepted my fate and I reached up and went for the break, holding on I pulled up went for the smear, then the next and the next and then the mantle to the top of the E1 section, I had done it, all that was left was HVD climbing to the very top.

So where does this tale leave me, how is it I can now take the fall or take the risk in the first place? Do I fear the fall. Nick Dickson once told me that falling or a fear of falling wasn't my problem, maybe he was right. Is it the fear of the unknown of what is to happen at the end of the fall or the failure it means in terms of the route (not that falling is inits self a failure) The problem with falling is that it happens so quickly,  the point of actually falling merges with the end of the fall, its like a quantum leap, there is no time to be afraid. So maybe the fear of falling is at the start of the climb, before you actually start to climb. Once committed to the climb thats it, fall or not maybe the fear is dealt with leaving only the fear of failure. But as you climb the fear of failure isn't there in your mind as you make the moves to the top, your zoned in on the moves, only when the move is shaky and uncommitted is the fear creeping forward in your mind and that fear of falling you left back at the start of the climb starting to snap at your heals. Granted for some the fear of falling does hold them back from committing to that next move. But for me having read most of the Rock Warriors Way I find that the fear of falling isn't as strong as it used to be (learning to assess the risk has helped here I think), so maybe the fear is of not completing the route, which is in someways a fear of not completing a climb you've had your eye on, especially if its a good quality climb. Which as I think of it is more likely. So this leaves me with one final question, what brings about a change in ones personality that means that I can jump on a climb after taking a fall that was virtually to the ground, why did I laugh so much. These are questions for another day.