There and back again

So on the train on the way home from the airport I get a call from the boss telling me they hadn't managed to find cover for my shift, so, having not showered for a week, fingertips in tatters and on a few lousy hours sleep at the airport I drag myself to the first of many all-day shifts of climbing instruction. As I belay yet another youngster up 'the green route', I reflect on the abruptness of this sudden change; for the last 49 days my sole focus had been total leisurely pleasure; climbing for myself, that's a given, but also the whole lifestyle that goes with the travelling ethos; the coffee and smoke in the mornings, the lazy hammock-bound afternoons and the liquor-filled melons at night. And suddenly here I am in a dusty climbing wall, the golden pocketed limestone and silvery sandstone replaced by multi-coloured blobs of plastic on ply. I try and reassure myself that this day was always coming, that the lifestyle isn't sustainable, if I was always on travels then I wouldn't appreciate it as much as I did, and that it will soon come again. All true, but it still doesn't stop me yearning for more, so if you'll excuse me I'll just take a minute to do some serious reminiscing!

Her Majesty, Cova del Diablo

Ahhh Majorca... More than a few people have told me that it was my kinda place. And as sure as shit floats to the top, I was in love! It was my utopia, the promised land to which my long-awaited pilgrimage was destined. The deep water soloing there is off the awesome-scale! On my first day I made my way across the island to Porto Cristo and, following the sounds of power-screams and splashes, I headed straight for the majestically imposing amphitheatre of Cova del Diablo, dumping my 30kilos of baggage in a bush and meandering in on the wondrous low-level traverse of White Hopes, a 5+ featuring everything that all the mega-classics have (apart from stupidly overhanging rock), making the perfect introduction, warm-up and access to the cove. Wanting to take in the surroundings and find my dws feet a little (not atall because I was intimidated by the imposing scale and prowess of the Diablo...) I decided to stick with the low-level traversing and try my luck at Superwoman 7a+, and promptly taking my first few splashdowns of the trip.

Me on the crux dyno of Ejector seat

Great success!
Flashing ejector seat, courtesy of some superb German beta

The first few days of deep water soloing are where it shares the most aspects with trad; you feel exposed, its not so easy to climb relaxed, you're scared bollockless to fall off, and at the same time falling off is where it's at! A few days into the trip, and with the reassuring company of George to bolster my confidence, I started to get more into the deep water solo flow. Thats when it becomes more like sport climbing and bouldering, going at hard moves with gusto, with sustained pumpers like Bandito 7c, or low-crux boulder problems like Strangers in Paradise 7b+ (maybe font 7a+ish), an absolute gem in the Snatch cave at the magical bay of Cala Barques, with its handful of caves, each individual with their own styles and different atmospheres; the bouldery Snatch cave to the towering Tarantino cave, or over to the sociability of Sa Cova with its perfectly formed bogey-tufas and relaxed have-a-go feel.

The laidback lifestyle of Cala Barquez.
Yep, we're carving spoons.

Food fit for a king, including pan-made pizzas, onion bhajis,
and enough chocolate spread to give any normal man type II diabetes.

And it's not just the climbing at Cala Barques that makes it such an amazing place, it was also my home for the 3 blissful weeks I was in Majorca; a shady forest for my hammock overlooking the lapping waves of the Mediterranean and soft white sand of the beach peppered with sunbathers, slackliners, titties and todgers, waking up to some of the most magnificent sun and moon-rises I've ever witnessed, all in Majorcas perfect climate; 24 days of sunshine and 1 of rain (a powerful thunderstorm that saw 20 naked climbers all dashing for a mid-storm swim in the sea during the monsoon shower, awesome!). To leave this place was a real wrench, but leave I must; it was time to chase the cooler conditions of October in a little forest called Fontainebleau...

Oh yes oh yes, I'm almost at climax!

Its almost time. On Monday 12th of September I set off on my nomadic climbing pilgrimage, first ranging the east coast of Majorca, then wandering the forests of Fontainebleau with my trusty hammock.


Been super busy with work the last couple of months but managed to sneak some good little trips in preparation;

A little 2 day trip to Dinas Rock in South Wales, a beautiful wooded gorge with some stunning rock architecture, amazing sport routes (the classic Berlin 7a+, which was my first route on real rock since before the ankle-break), particularly on the Main Wall and Lower Cave, and some brilliant bouldering on the bottom of Kennelgarth Wall, reminiscent of the wonderful Pantymwyn Gorge (also went there and got SPANKED on Thug Mentality, but as a wise man once said, the only true failure is a failure you don't learn anything from. I learned that if you keep failing on the last move, find a better way of doing it before you get too spent trying it from the start. Ah well, next time!).

                                              The bouldering at Kennelgarth Wall


Lower Cave - to get a sense of scale, the small left hand cave is actually about 10 metres high and 10 metres deep, with a handful of amazing-looking sport routes!


Really good online guide to Dinas Rock on here with some great pics and vids too! http://www.southwalesmountaineering.org.uk/g_book/index.php/Dinas_Rock

Also had a great bouldering trip with the King! Me n Kieran went to visit Alberto and Lo-pez for some North Wales Bouldering action! After a morning of thrashing ourselves and making some good progress on the first couple of moves of Bus Stop (V9, but was pissing rain so the lip of the Jerrys Roof boulder was gopping) we proceeded to ruin ourselves further with an evening session at the Indy Wall, which has some brilliantly set problems (as always), with the Wad that is Alex Mason setting some wicked funky-tech problems to shoot down many a strong-man. It makes him feel better about being weak ;-)

Then, with our skin tender and arms spent, we dragged ourselves to the Pass once more with slightly tentative ambition, but through sheer determination Ki and I both managed to bag The Sting (a very cool lone problem with some thin and frustating moves at V9, tick!) and then Room to Swing a Katz, the hardest V6 I've ever done, with an obscenely tensiony move, awesome! As a note, the first ascentionist of this problem, Mark Katz, is a real inspiration. So often I hear grumbles from short people about not being able to reach or saying that tall people have it easy. Mark's minimal stature hasn't stopped him crushing some ridiculously hard problems and big moves; he just embraces the dynamic movement. Watch him doing rockatrocity on amateur hardcore to get an idea of his beastyness (available on vimeo if you haven't seen it). You may not be able to get taller, but you can always get dynamic. But thats off on a bit of a tangent.

Anyway, that little update brings me to the present; I'm working regularly at the wall so managing to get lots of little indoor training sessions in - feeling primed and ready to rock! My absolute sympathies to everyone stuck at work or starting back at uni this September while I'm off galavanting on the continent, but this trip is a long overdue, so forgive me for feeling just the tiniest bit smug...

Adios amigos!

Its been a while!

For the last 10 weeks I've not really had anything of interest to report; slow and steady healing with intermittent bursts of training, a handful of wild nights out and an ongoing battle against the evil that is boredom! But its been a valuable experience in many ways. The first few steps I walked brought such a feeling of liberation comparable to natural highs like the elation of finishing your last exam or the first time you have sex! But anyway, one of the things that has kept me sane and maintained my psyche for climbing is the endorphin pumping training sessions.

I am now a total advocate of brief but intense periods of training with adequate rests in between; say 2 weeks of '2 days on 1 day off' before a week of rest, and when you return to training your body's adaptations have had a chance to manifest and you can train at a higher intensity once again. I have no idea if this is the most physically efficient way to structure training, but I at least found that it allowed my motivation to be maintained throughout the 10 weeks; I relished the week off, but by the end of the rest-week I was craving training once again, even without having climbing to give me a measurable reward.

But the time has now come... I went to the climbing wall with the intention of taking it nice n steady with a bit of top-roping, but the ankle felt so solid that in my first session back I ended up flashing a 7a and just dropping a 7b flash on the last move, and again failing on the last move of a 7c last week. My levels of power have been hard to gauge; I've been doing some moves in the bouldering room that I don't think I could have done before, one big dynamic move in particular, jumping between two first-joint 2-finger pockets to hold a wild cut-loose!! It felt gnarly, but I'm not sure, my proprioception might be a bit out. But regardless, things are looking promising for my return to proper climbing, which will probably be some point in July.

Until then I'll continue with the training and top-roping until my ankle is totally bomber and ready to start taking some sweet lobs! So to make up for my lack of big sends and for my disappointingly stagnant logbook (the last route I did was on the 3rd of April!) here is a link to a little training video I've been making to keep the psyche going and get used to this new editing software. It will probably end up being an intro to the Majorca/Font film I'm gona be making; lots of DWS, lots of bouldering; lots of climbing with no strings attached. But for now... just training. Hope you enjoy it :-)

http://vimeo.com/25739161

There's something about Mikey

Captains Log: 26 days since the incident of which we do not speak, and things are starting to get freaky. The owl in the corner is starting to look like an elephant, and Lord knows what the frogs have been planning, but there's definitely a badger in the ointment.

Nah, I'm not really going mad, but the abrupt change I'm experiencing from being super active and psyched to having a sedentary lifestyle thrust upon me is taking some adjustment. I'm still psyched though. My saving grace is my positive attitude and willingness to just accept the situation and get on with it, so I've been keeping myself busy and as physically active as I can for now. Just moving around on crutches is quite physically intensive; I worked out on google maps that I did about 4 miles around cirencester the other day! Triceps and shoulders are gona get strong out of necessity, great for mantles come Fontainbleau. I've also got the campus board and fingerboard up and running (think I'm gona have a session after I finish writing this) so I will get stronger than before my injury, at least my core, arm power and finger strength will be, for when I return to climbing in August. I say that I will with conviction because I foresee motivation being an important and quite challenging thing to maintain through recovery, so I endeavour to remain steadfast in my attitude towards training.


Aside from the physical, I've also set out to develop myself in other ways. I've started learning piano, got a great little song coming on, and just enjoying playing around with it really. I've also started feeling a real affinity with wood,  which has stemmed from carving my fingerboard, to putting up shelves, building the campus board and making my own home-made mahogany rungs which are a joy to hold! And I'm now carving a coffee table out of a great chunk of solid tree stump, which is testing my patience and problem solving abilities, but teaching me a lot about the nature of wood in the process.


I don't know whether it's to do with my body working really hard on healing, or being more sedentary and lacking the same kind of stimulation, but at the moment I'm sleeping a hell of a lot! I normally go to bed around 2am, and having nothing to set my alarm for I've been sleeping straight through until 12, and often going back to sleep until 1/2/3 in the afternoon... This doesn't feel unhealthy, I've been doing some research and found this. Maybe it partly explains why my body responds to training so well; because I looove sleep!


The waking life of animal organisms is a dynamic, destructive time because the organisms' complex proteins are torn down and exhausted as they are used for activities including locating and ingesting preformed organic molecules to meet the immediate energy needs of the wakened state and to provide the building block proteins which fuel the repair and growth dynamics that occur during sleep.

Slow wave sleep is the dynamic, constructive time of physical healing and growth for animal organisms, a recuperative stage where the mind/body system rebuilds itself after a hard day surviving in the world. Substances ingested during the awake period are synthesized into the complex proteins of living tissue; growth hormones are secreted to assist with the healing of muscles and repairing general wear and tear in tissues; glial cells (neurones in the brain) are refreshed with sugars to restore the brain with energy; the immune system is boosted.

Truly the importance of being idle! So intuitively I've started sleeping more to assist with my healing, awesome! Or maybe I'm just lazy and have nothing to get up for. But regardless, along with eating a load of bone-friendly stuff and quitting caffeine (one of the many evil 'bone robbers') I think the healing process is coming along nicely. My physiotherapy starts on Monday 9th of May, so I'll be able to start working towards more movement in my ankle and strengthening my left leg which is visibly wasting away! And awesome news, once my surgical wound is healed up I'll be able to start swimming again to keep my fitness up. Psyched for some free and uninhibited movement!


Come on Time, get a move on!!

I like this tune

SHITPISSFUCKCUNTCOCKSUCKERMOTHERFUCKER! Goosefraahbahhh...

Oh boy oh boy, the last few days have been a real rollercoaster; usually my favorite theme park ride, but these emotionally based ones don't give quite the same kind of thrill do they!
Part of the reason I'm writing this post is a personal process to externalize some stuff and wallow in some misery, but I imagine it might also be an interesting read for others.

So there I was, Thursday the 7th of April, feeling fitter and stronger and on the whole just better than I ever have been, confidence booming, my ego verging on obesity, and with 'The Trip', which has made living on the breadline for the last 5 months bearable, approaching so immanently I could smell the wine and sangria! 12 days in Fontainebleau with the Peckmeister and my old crushing partner Kieran, who I haven't had the pleasure of climbing with for too long now, followed by a further 12 in El Chorro with font-power and the fabled 'flow' (see Mason's recent post) and with the all-day fitness that I've been developing over the last few months. Can you sense the anticipation? It was tangible!

I'm at my dads to earn some spending money for The Trip (which I was quite looking forward to btw) and after a few days without climbing my muscles have acquired the hunger; you know when they just feel like they need to squeeeeze something! I'm at Gloucester climbing wall with a couple of Stroudy climbing friends and I'm feeling elastic, electric, flowing and free! I flambe my way (no not a sugary glazing, in this context I can and will use it for the act of being flamboyant) up a few warm up routes, on one of these finding no less than 6 no hands rests up 12 meters of vertical (not because I needed to, just because I could). As I bounce my way up a 7a+ that was set to flow true by none other than Steve McClure I hear my belayer and my friend below commenting on my languid style and the nature and quality of my movement and technique, and I have yet another injection of ego and a burst of excitement about how successful The Trip is setting up to be.

I don't remember why or how I fell off. I assume a foot slip or something; I was hanging on a jug in the 10 meter high roof and was mid-clip when the unexpected plummet began, and it didn't end until I was flat on the floor. Hurtling through the air I had time for thoughts to clarify; they were something along the lines of "goodness, there shouldn't be THIS much slack out" and then a flash of "this is serious!". Cat-like as I may be, physics be physics, and gravity gravity. I crumpled well on landing, but leaning slightly so my left leg took most of the impact, smashing through an inch of mdf which also helped to absorb the shock, thankfully leaving my spine in tact. It's a strange panic when you hurt yourself; first instinct is to get up and walk around, perhaps to establish to yourself that you're ok. I try to get up immediately, heavily winded, and feel my left ankle is stiff and painful, but otherwise I'm unscathed. I gasp that I'm ok to my belayer, who I realize is in shock; frozen and stammering. Over the next few minutes while we wait for the ambulance I reassure her that I'm fine and that it doesn't feel serious, but she's distraught with guilt and just repeating that she has never dropped anyone before in her life. First time for everything eh. We chat idly with the chubby male paramedic until the 2 smokin hot female paramedics arrive with the wheelchair, and after witnessing some cringeworthy flirting from my friend Remmy I smoothly charm my way downstairs and off to the hospital. Yes that's definitely how it was!

Laughing gas is a brilliant drug! There I was hyperventilating away and hysterical over my devastation while the rest of the waiting room sat there miserably with what appeared to be nothing wrong; the irony of which only added to the hysterics of my rushy altered state, until mean old nursey McPhee said I wasn't in enough pain to warrant laughing gas. Bravado gets you nowhere! The X-ray showed a couple of suspected fractures in my ankle so I was popped in a cast and sent on my way, prospects of walking, let alone climbing out the window for the near future, and my much-anticipated Trip well and truly down't shitter.

Needless to say I have had a lot of frustration to vent, and have spent a lot of time staring pensively into space recently. But I'm well on my way to coming to terms with it. Everyone has been very sympathetic. I don't mind this, although I don't like people making a fuss. I know people mean well, but I find little solace in some of the cliches that they offer, as applicable as they may be to my situation, they just seem hard to stomach sometimes. No, not everything happens for a reason. This did not happen for a reason. I'll endeavor to maintain my optimistic outlook and make the most of a shitty situation, but no divine power influenced this for the greater good. It is unfortunate chance that 2 minor and common events; a lapse in concentration and a foot-slip, both coincided to produce a disproportionately serious result.

I will do what I can to prevent this experience having too much of a negative effect on my future climbing. I'm going to train hard for my physical maintenance over the recovery period, and I feel I am mentally robust enough and have processed the experience well enough to cope with the psychological implications. I'm no more likely to be dropped in future than I was before this incident. I will certainly be a devout and attentive belayer in future. I will probably be more verbal and open about the trust between climber and belayer for my personal reassurance, but that can only be a good thing. I don't hold resentment towards the girl who dropped me, even though I had only just met her and it would be easy to pass blame and judgement, it's not in my nature, and it is unfortunate for her as well as me that the outcome of her distraction was as it was. Approaching these issues with mindfulness and detachment feels important to me, so they don't play over in my mind and become mental blocks in future.

Of all the cliches however, I have definitely benefited from some. The silver linings; my self-development in ways that I would otherwise neglect due to my obsession for climbing; woodwork, reading, music, cooking etc as well as continuing to train hard on the fingerboard I'm carving (I would never prioritize training over climbing even though I know it can give greater improvements in strength, but now I am forced to do so).
Also looking for the light at the end of the tunnel; I will still be able to go on a wild climbing trip once I'm recovered. The girl who was belaying has offered to pay for my flights to be transferred so I will now be going for a month or more to visit Majorca for DWS, Albaraccin and Font for bouldering and apparently there's some good sport climbing in France and Spain worth checking out...
Thirdly, I have taken refuge in remembering that it is always darkest before dawn. I'd say this has been one of the most distressing events of my life. My feathers aren't easily ruffled and I rarely get stressed about things, so I'm sadistically enjoying a bit of wallowing and strong emotion, safe in the knowledge that it will pass soon enough with a bit of adjusting.
Then I look at the lessons to learn. There is not much I can take from the event itself; just the importance of attentive belaying. But from the experience of being injured I can learn empathy. I have never really been injured before. It sucks. And for someone who is so used to being agile and mobile it is a real eye opener to appreciate those who have difficulty moving or dependancy on others. It really sucks.
And finally... Life Goes On.

Good splurge. Good effort if you got all the way through that!

There's always more toothpaste in the tube!

Over the last few weeks I have been living a slightly more conventional life; having to fit my climbing in around work and weather (although I've still been sleeping in a cupboard under the stairs). But I've enjoyed the sense of urgency you get from this, nipping out after work to make the most of our recently extended evenings, and have managed to get some absolutely cracking routes done!

With the ambient warmth of last week George and I ventured to the south side of the pass to Clogwyn y Gafr, a compact little crag with line after line of superb quality. This is where I did my first E3, Satsuma Special a couple of years ago, which I later discovered gets E4 with the demise of a peg that once protected the bold headwall. A brilliant bit of climbing regardless of it's bold nature! But this visit we were not looking to push our boundaries into grades beyond ourselves, the trad season still being so young. So we each bagged a slightly damp crag-classic; the eye-catching crack line of Pulsar E3, ranging from finger locks to arm bars and some powerful slopey laybacking to evade the saturated algae on the lead by George, and then I udged, palmed and slithered my way up the equally attractive corner of Sacred Idol E3, made even better with the holds in the corner being elimiated by seepage and slime, making for magnificent multi-dimensional climbing in all planes of movement between the side-walls.

A few solid days of menial work does wonders for the psyche! So later that week I headed out with Matt Burdekin for what turned out to be a bit more of an intense session than the above! We got up to the Grochan, one of my favourite crags, for convenience as well as for the quality routes. The only drawback was that I had done almost all the routes there. Just the exciting cracked headwall of Quantum Jump E5 still awaited my presence on it. This is the route I witnessed George deck on a while back due to a mean little notch cutting his rope on the lob, so it has been a bit of an elephant in the room for a few of us ever since. Whether I was to be successful or not, the elephant had outstayed his welcome, and Burdy's relaxed 'have a bash' attitude really helped relieve some of the pressure surrounding the idea of getting on it.

Leo Houlding's attitude towards saving routes until they're within your ability comes to mind. It's those hard-fought onsight attempts at your limit that are really the most rewarding, whether you're successful or not. Recently I belayed Alex on Great Wall E4 at Craig-y-Forwyn; a revered and historical route that I know he really wanted to onsight; the Alex vs. flash-pump battle that ensued was a pleasure to witness, and his hard-fought success on reaching the top was enjoyed by all (except the miserable git of a land-owner). So I approached Quantum Jump with the acknowledgment that I might fall, but with the determination not to! A few times I was close to coming off, a foot pop here, a barndoor there, and a desperately deep pump on the last few moves, but I just kept on pulling; there's always more toothpaste in the tube! How close I was to coming off only added to the exhilaration of success! Up at the belay an old climber called across his sincere congratulations, saying that he had seen many attempts and few successes from young ambitious lads on that route. I would definitely class myself as a young ambitious lad, and thankfully that day I was also a successful one!

I now have a weekend in Pembroke to get some beasty trad onsighting done, before I head off on my fright-free European adventure of bouldering and sport climbing. I'm super psyched to get out there and get crushing, but I will also be looking ahead in anticipation of getting back on the trad that this brilliant rocky little island offers.

Video of Leo Houlding just missing out on the onsight of Balance it is, E7 6c at Burbage South. Can't wait to have a crack at this, I just need to be a bit fitter and in a bit better shape!
(the audio and video are way off sync for some reason, but you get the idea)

Yaaaaaaay Hoh!

Finally got round to doing the project at Tremadog! Now named 'The Philtrum'; anatomically the groove under your nose, metaphorically the groove under everyones nose; an overlooked line on the Vector buttress! Now the ivy has been stripped the line is quite striking, clearly visible from the Grim Wall abseil. I've spoken to a couple of North Wales activists who knew of the line but had never bothered to clean it or give it a proper look, and I have the ivy to thank for masking its quality until now.

I did discover an old peg on the route (I hope it doesn't turn out that its already been climbed and just not documented) but I suppose I'm not too bothered... I'm just psyched that my inclination to explore paid off with the re-discovery of this line; regardless of whether it's already been climbed or not it is now a magnificent route with sustained and varied climbing from beginning to end, ready to be enjoyed by anyone who has or think they have the minerals to do it.

The Lowdown.
After failing to link it on top-rope during my first play on it back in January I knew I needed to get fitter and stronger, but was also worried that some wad might notice it and nip up it before me. But with some decent recent form I felt confident, and on the day of the ascent I clocked a better sequence and got it linked clean after a couple of attempts. Psyched to go for a lead! Headpointing is so vastly different from onsighting. You fly through the moves with conviction, and to me they always feel easier on the lead than on top-rope, when your muscles are primed with the adrenaline and you're switched on and focused on your sequence, but also in that zoned in/out state where movement becomes very intuitive.

Anyway, I got to the ok rest above the roof no sweat, just a mild pump which I knew I could recover from and now the climbing was less steep & pumpy and more delicate & flowing, with inspiring gear right by me to spur me upwards. Flying through the groove sequence I arrived all of a sudden at the sloping shelf, but as I scuffled my heel on I felt in an odd position, unable to go with my right hand like I had been in practice. Winging it, with the peg and a small cam a few feet below me, I turned my right down to a palm, rocked on my heel and crept my left awkwardly across my bunched body and up the wall to the flatty with a Stevey Mac "Yeaaaaaay Hoh" woop of success and a flood of satisfaction and contentment, which, contrary to a previous post, I fully allowed myself to be for the rest of the day; sated as can be. Cheers to Duncan for the belay on the ascent, and Jono for the belay back in January.

What a Feeling!

Also here are links to the UKC logbook and forum for the route.