Author Archives: Nick Bullock

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 →

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 →

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 →

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 →

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 →

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 →

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 →

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 →

  It was dark as I drove my little red van towards Glen Coe. Matt Helliker, visiting from Chamonix, was behind in a hire car. Leaving Ballachulish, the petrol station and the Tourist Information Centre on the right, and then … Continue reading →

4am. Friday 6th January, 2017. Chulilla. Spain. In the shadows cast by streetlights, Zylo and I walked the cobbled piazza in the centre of Chulilla. A wash of white confetti circles swirled, butting against stacks of metal chairs outside the … Continue reading →