Author Archives: Nick Bullock

Escaping the alligator.

Thursday 9th November 2017. The three of us, Bayard Russell, Raphael Slawinski and myself stood beneath a line of ice. The word ‘line’ suggests continuous, and the ‘line’ we now stood was anything but! This ‘line’ was disjointed islands, feeble … Continue reading

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Shifting Thresholds… A long letter of thanks.

…The world is changing. I’m changing. People—or at least many of them—appear to be more each for their own: they want walls between them, and the louder an individual can shout the better they are thought. And what of solidarity, … Continue reading

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Breadgate. Fable for another time.

In April, 2005, Tim Neil, Dougal Tavener, Jonny Garside and I travelled to the Gorges du Tarn. This was the first time any of us had been to the Tarn. I remember the four of us packed into the small … Continue reading

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In through the outdoor.

Several years ago, after three months of sport climbing in Spain and France, I climbed Plenitude, a nine pitch 6c+ on Les Vuardes, the big crag high above the small town of Magland and the river Arve that flows a … Continue reading

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The cost of the (sweet) dream?

If at all possible, this piece will be more in context if Hazel Findlay’s article, Sweet Dreams, featured in the summer edition of Summit Magazine 2017 is read first. The Summit app can be downloaded and if you are a … Continue reading

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Out of the ground.

While writing the Nightmayer article that was published on UKC, I delved into the UKC logbook accounts, and in doing so was reminded of a climb Dr Jon Read and I had climbed the same day before heading to the … Continue reading

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The Nightmayer cometh. (But not for me)

A few days ago I wrote a piece for my blog about the climb Nightmayer. When I finished writing I thought maybe it deserved a wider audience, so it has now been published here on UKC, including the short section … Continue reading

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Driving north from Catalunya

I’m driving north from Catalunya, through the high pass of the Pyrenees, into France and on past a busy Bordeaux. Earlier that day Rich Kirby and I had climbed the last route of a six-week trip, El Zulú Demente, a … Continue reading

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Far too nice for that…

I walked the undulating track that weaved beneath the cliff. The sun-baked clay, pounded by a million feet, orange glaze. Below, to my right, was the slow-moving river. The river, wide and clear, formed the lowest point of the gorge. … Continue reading

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The unseen sun.

The small town of Parsons Pond on the west coast of Newfoundland is surrounded by water. The Gulf of St Lawrence is to the west and the nine-mile-long Parsons Pond to the east. The town consists a few small houses, … Continue reading

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