Great Escape. Nick Bullock.

I don’t know, what do you think dear reader? Is being able to tell what people are thinking something that comes with age, or is it a superpower that only a few possess?

Whatever it is, I can confidently say I have the power!

This superpower, or shall we call it, understanding, possibly comes from spending hundreds of hours sitting, thinking and then writing about myself (how tedious), but maybe I’m just projecting my faults and inadequacies onto everyone else and us humans are all very different and do not share common traits? What I do know, and I’m sure everyone else knows super powers or not, when you hear the term, no offence intended, you know you’re about to get insulted. So, while listening to Grimer’s Jamcrack Podcast the other day featuring Tom Pierce, I knew I was in for a bit of a savaging when Tom said, “No offence to Nick Bullock, but…”

This ‘no offence to Nick Bullock but’ came after Grimer had a proper rant about new routes. In his rant, Grimer said he was wound up about shit routes that people put up only because they want a first ascent and if it wasn’t a first ascent would they bother doing it. The tirade continued with, “These new routes are fucking annoying and bullshit, they (the first ascensionists), are not adding anything by doing it”.

So, this is where my name comes into it as Tom had recently climbed a route of mine I called Pathological at Rhoscolyn, he used this as an example of what Grimer was talking about. Tom is reasonably young, I’m sure he was excited to be chatting on the Jamcrack, and after listening to part two, I’d say he is a tad introverted, and I suspect at times it was just easier to go along with Niall without thinking too much about what it all means. I’d like to give Tom the benefit of doubt but to use Pathological as an example of what Grimer was talking about, was, in my mind a tad unfair (I want to say bollocks here, but I’m attempting to be fluffy). Tom possibly didn’t see by using this as an example and name checking me, he was including me in all of what Grimer had be ranting about, hmm, I’m not sure? A few sentences later he said he thought the route was quite cool. Bloody hell, make your mind up Tom, how to confuse a pensioner!

Pathological (I was pretty happy to come up with that name, I’m not usually that funny or clever), is actually a combination of new climbing and a section of the crag that had been climbed before.

The bottom three quarters of the climb were new until reaching the Warpath kneebar. It then climbs directly out of the kneebar on undercuts, and onto a well-defined arete. At the top of the arete, it joins the final few metres of Warpath before topping-out. A section of the arete had been climbed before by Twid Turner and Steve Long and called No Country for Young Men, they climbed this from a belay in The Sun and traversed onto the arete. The bit of the climb Tom didn’t like was the arete?

The line of Pathological. That’s Big Dom in yellow, making the crag look smaller than it is!

Unlike Tom, I think the whole outing is pretty good, as do the two other people I know who have climbed it, and to use Grimers indicator of shit new routes, if it wasn’t my route, I would still want to climb it, so not shit?

Not only does it climb the whole length of the cliff, it’s about as direct a line as you could imagine. Comici would have loved it, or more to the point, so would Messner as it’s as straight as a drop of falling water and passing through some super features (gives himself a big, chest puffed slap on the back), it’s all on natural gear and feels quite out there. I’ve climbed almost every route in the two zawns at Rhoscolyn, some of them many times, and I’m pretty sure it holds up.

Its only climbing I know, and it certainly isn’t solving the climate crisis, but if two people want to slag something down, and then one of them brings my name into it, I think it’s fair enough to put out some shit in my defence? I know, I know, I’m old enough to just let it slide, but I’m a delicate flower and I dont like being picked on, so I’m not quite there yet. And it is shit by the way, I’d prefer not to be writing this, but here I am having to defend myself. I suppose if I’d grown up with the internet, I’d be more likely to brush it off, but maybe not, the internet and social media is why thousands of people today live with anxiety? Thank f@#k it wasn’t around when I was a teenager, I would have imploded. 

Nowadays, I’d much prefer to spend time with the chickens or the cats, but low and behold, here I am sitting down and writing this shit in an effort to put across an alternative another point of view. I can hardly be bothered to write about climbing anymore because I feel it’s become a massive commercialised industry that many climbers have turned into a narcissistic shit show. I don’t mean Tom here by the way, he appears to be reasonably low key for someone so talented, although because I don’t do any social media, I don’t know, maybe he sprays as good as my cats. Writing this does work my brain that will hopefully delay the onset of dementia so thats a positive I suppose?

The Fluffsters.

So, what did Tom actually say. Well, he said the top arete was contrived and didn’t work because you can reach big holds of another climb from it, (the other climb is Warpath). Each to their own, everyone is entitled to an opinion (there you go, two other cliches that basically act as a harbinger of an insult, hold onto your hat because my fluffiness may be coming to an end!). Tom publishes his climbs on a UKC logbook that are open for everyone to read and his comment about the climb said he thought the top arete was contrived. Then went on to say that he possibly went into Warpath too soon. I’m not sure how there can be confusion, either the whole of the arete was climbed or it wasn’t?

On-sighting routes is definitely the gold standard, but I wonder how many people have not actually climbed a route when trying to on-sight it, but believe they have? Maybe an advantage of being a bit shit and having to headpoint something makes sure you are actually doing the route? Tom’s comments did get me thinking about a few things though, so thanks for that Tom.

In my opinion, many new routes in an area like North Wales are going to be a bit contrived because the best lines were climbed years ago, and thinking about this has made me questioning my motivations. Maybe I do crave to see my name in print in a guidebook, although having had two memoirs published and loads of articles in magazines, books and journals around the world, I’m not so sure?

So, do I climb something new for the personal experience, or is it for other people or a combination of the two? It’s quite satisfying to know you’ve climbed something that others will repeat and hopefully enjoy, but all said and done, I’m a selfish climber and since deciding to cut down on travel and be more local, I get a lot of joy snurfling around the crags of North Wales. So, let’s be clear, it is for me. I really enjoy the whole process of going to a crag and looking around to see what’s what, then throwing a rope down to look at features and wondering if these can be linked. If I can link the features, I’ll have a look at the gear to protect the climb. Working the line, and maybe climbing it is the icing on the cake, and I always feel a bit sad once I’ve successfully climbed a new line, or as in this case, a bit of a mish mash.

OK, spoiler alert for all of you young strong people, much of climbing is contrived. Taking it to its most basic, getting to the top of a cliff by climbing a sheer rock face when you can walk to the same spot makes it contrived. This then leads to the question, why take the more difficult route? There are of course many answers; the physicality, the psychology, the movement, the skill, ego, being outside in a beautiful enviroment. In modern times, as climbing has become more commercial, money and fame are, I suppose, also big motivators.

Bringing it back not only to Pathological, but many new routes I’ve climbed, the experience as a whole is the motivation. In general, I will visit a beautiful place that has birds, other wildlife and flowers. There will be the crashing of the sea, howling seals, bird call. These things remind me the planet is not yet completely wrecked and there is more to life than posting your next selfie on Instawank and increasing Zukerberg’s billions. The mystery of a new line is also a factor. Then it’s about doing something fun and physical. I hope I wouldn’t climb something, or write it up if it doesn’t really hang together as a route. Climbing in North Wales, whether new or established keeps me out of the old peoples home. Tom, please don’t go and climb The Frumious Bandersnatch, also at Rhoscolyn, I think you may be really disappointed, but I had fun so give me that😉.

I do wonder at times if this generation of super strong uber wads are actually having fun? When you are so strong there can’t be many lines in North Wales you can’t climb into another climb and almost every hold must feel humongous? It must be so disappointing being a climber where everything feels so easy or contrived. By the way, when I climbed the first ascent of Pathological I certainly wasn’t looking over from my teetering position on the arete thinking, I’ll just nip into those jugs on Warpath, I can honestly say going into Warpath never entered my mind, it just wasnt an option. I’m not sure I could have even if I wanted to, else I probably would have. I’ve climbed Warpath about twenty times, and I’ve never actually found these massive holds. On occasion, I’ve even been pumped. All these years of climbing thinking that I’m amazing and in reality, I’m shit!

Ray Wood shot from the first ascent.

I vividly remember climbing that top arete on Pathological and being fully focused on climbing the arete. I was also focussed on being very pumped and knowing that placing the gear was going to be touch and go (as it happens, I couldn’t place the last small wire and went for it). There is no doubt about this top section being an arete and if the route description says, climb the arete in its entirety using holds on both sides, I think it’s pretty obvious where the climb goes?

It may feel contrived to climb such an obvious feature when there is a climb to the left, but I’ve climbed Right Wall several times (thirty if I’m counting), and at no point have I thought, come on Pete, your climb is so contrived, I can climb into and out of your route all over the place. More to the point as Right Wall came first, how about Lord of the Flies? Maybe the famous film of Big Ron saying “Come on arms, do your stuff” should be edited to, come on Ron, stop being so contrived? Thinking about it, on one of my ascents of Lord, I shuffled along the ledge, sat down and took my shoes off. What a crap route.

While I’m on one, how about that three-star route King Wad on Esgair Maen Gwyn (Scimitar Ridge) first climbed by Paul Pritchard. The first time I climbed this back in the time when dinosaurs walked the planet and social media wasn’t a thing (oh, what lovely innocent times), I not only wanted to test myself, I really enjoyed climbing a route because it was a Paul Pritchard climb. Climbing was about history and connecting to the people who had first climbed these routes, so the fact that the obvious line of King Wad is to climb the first two thirds, then continue up the easy groove to finish, matters not. For anyone who hasn’t climbed it, you do lots of great climbing and then reach a big ledge just beneath the top of the crag. I’ve sat on this ledge many times. Then you traverse right to climb a fantastic arete. The arete is not the line or the obvious way to go, but it is a wonderful feature and so that is what Paul climbed, and the route is an absolute classic. Or is it, maybe for young people today the sense of history or situation or nuance is lost? Maybe its contrived and a bit shit? By the way for those people disgusted by the contrived nature of this brilliant climb, you can climb the arete direct, it’s a great bit of climbing and feels solid E6. I climbed the route like this several years ago but didn’t write it up, I possibly didn’t want my name in a guidebook bad enough at that time? But, maybe this is also contrived as the groove leading to the sit down rest is the easiest and obvious way? Bloody hell, its so confusing being an old climbing duffer.

Climbing can be quite nuanced, but unfortunately, society today gives everyone the opportunity to have a point of view which is good I suppose (the jury is out, not my jury, I think giving everyone a say is crazy, let’s take this article as an example and to quote Fred Hall, opinions are like arseholes, everybody has one!), but not many people appear willing to sit, stop and think for a while before slapping it out there on social media or whatever, and then in general, it’s there for life. Thank heavens there wasn’t an internet when I grew up!

Here is an idea for climbers, when you click on the next problem of the Kilter and Moonboards app, the usual haunt of strong young folk, there should be a warning in red that flashes ‘Remember, what you write on social media or UKC logbooks or say on podcasts is possibly going to make you look a tad of a pillock later in life’.

Maybe all the folk wearing headphones like the ones Grimer talks about in the introduction should be listening to the mantra, Don’t be a numbnut, hold off on saying the first thing that comes into your mind or hitting that publish button and thats possibly that’s what I should have listened to before hitting the publish button on this?

Anyway, see you soon at the Beacon Tom, (possibly on the Moonboard, ha), thanks for the fuel for thought and of course, no offence intended 😉

I clicked on UKC the other day, and on the home page was an article about the photography of Ray Wood. I’ve known Ray for around twenty-two years. Ray’s a good friend, and it always adds to the day having him along. So I opened the article and as expected, the pictures featured are great. I have to add an interest here as two of the pictures are of me, and what fine pictures they are! Seriously though, the collection of pictures is excellent, Ray certainly knows how to take a snap.

The article is the fifth in a series about photographers operating within climbing, and I’ve just read through all the forum comments below the five articles. In the four previous articles, the comments are what you would expect; complimentary chat about how the pictures came about etc. So, I was a bit disappointed to find that no one had complimented Ray on his pictures. Ray obviously doesn’t need to be told he’s a great photographer. I’m pretty sure after the thirty plus years of snapping, he’s reasonably assured of his talent, but in the comments, what filled me with dread was the second one by Sean Kelly,

Not sure how many photographs illustrate this excellent article, but only 3 helmets visible. Do top climbers not use cranium protection as it seems to be mostly absent. Again this might be the requirements of advertisers, although as a photographer myself, I hate helmets, dull clothing colours, and arms obscuring faces with an equal passion. Lately this has really been a scourge as most gear shops refuse to sell bright mountain clothing, but not for cyclists it appears. Rant over.

At the time of writing there have only been four more comments and as expected because the H topic has been mentioned, not one is about Ray’s pictures, they are all about climbers not wearing helmets. I must admit this makes me want to hit my unhelmeted head repeatedly against a wall.

Sean does say it’s an excellent article and goes on to reason why climbers in the pictures are not wearing helmets, but the fact he thinks there has to be some ulterior motive other than the person didn’t want to wear one baffles me.

…There might be an exception for top climbers from sponsors, but even than it is probably down to personal choice. Then again there might be pressure from photographers who don’t want a helmet obscuring the climber’s face, especially if a climbing icon. Anywhere with loose rock about  or a chance of a head injury when climbing I reach for my helmet. And certainly on a winter climb as falls are often much greater. But I must admit to a certain freedom to not having to don a helmet.

I’m not sure why Sean has told us in winter he certainly grabs his helmet as the two winter pictures in the set feature Keith and Tim both wearing helmets. I always wore a helmet winter climbing because there was generally tons of stuff coming down, and you’re often strapped into a belay and can’t get out of the way.

I like Sean’s somewhat naïve belief that a climber would choose not to wear a helmet because their sponsors had told them not to, or that it may have been pressure from the photographer, but the obvious reason is they don’t want to. I can only talk for myself, but I would never wear, or not wear a helmet for a sponsor and no sponsor I have worked with would ask me to. The same as I would never wear, or not wear one for a photographer. I’m pretty sure no climber would, although the way climbing has been commercialized, who knows, maybe climbing influencers will do anything nowadays for money, clicks and adulation?

I’m almost one hundred percent sure that I’ve never gone out purely to get a posed picture. I’m pretty sure that every picture of me taken by a professional photographer is as it happens, I’ve just gone climbing and in most cases, Ray has come along with no expectations. The two pictures of me included in the article, sans helmet are the same as almost every rock climb I’ve done in the UK, e.g., sans helmet. Why is an adult choosing not to wear a helmet while summer rock climbing such an emotive subject with climbers? And why are a large majority of climbers so opinionated, and occasionally really aggressive when it comes to another climber making a personal choice. After the film that Ray has linked of Mick Lovatt and me climbing War and Peace, there were some quite nasty comments on Instagram (can’t link as I’m not on Instagram), although being called a bell end was quite funny!

I’m old enough (as is Sean and Gordon) to remember when climbing was a subculture, it was a bit anarchic, an adventure, a bit crazy and wild, and if a climber chose to solo some crazy route, or attempt The Bells! The Bells! on sight, or get stuck on a new route at Gogarth to escape by the flashing of the lighthouse beam, this was OK, it was their choice and hooray.  They didn’t get attacked by people on the internet talking about health and safety. If I’d wanted sensible, I’d have taken up crown green bowling. What has happened to climbing and climbers, when did they become so safety conscious and judgemental? Why is it now that many climbers do not accept we are all different, and as adults we live by our decisions, good and bad.

The usual cliché wheeled out when all of this helmet stuff is brought up is what this person wrote beneath the War and Peace film on YouTube

it’s not personal when other climbers and emergency workers have to risk their lives to assist others when their easily avoided stupidity goes wrong. If only it was personal. @Hesjustzisguyyouknow

I do wonder how many accidents are caused directly by a climber not wearing a helmet? Is there some number out there because unlike Gordon Stainforth that wrote the comment below, I’ve never seen an accident that was caused purely because a rock climber in the UK was not wearing a helmet? Not once in the last thirty plus years. Obviously, it happens, but how often? And are they putting the lives of the people who come to rescue them at risk, I’m not sure they are, these people are well-trained and often professionals. The professional rescuers, the Coastguards, Ambulance, Police get paid a wage to save people, it is a part of their job, they may even enjoy it? Maybe we should ban inflatable boats, paddleboards, snorkels and flippers because I’m sure the Coastguard spends more time rescuing people who have got in trouble in the sea than climbers who have injured themselves because they were not wearing a helmet. Or perhaps we should restrict walkers because the helicopter that rescues them after they have had an accident, or just physically pushed themselves too far goes over my shed repeatedly through the summer. Why stop with climbers who choose not to wear a helmet, why not just restrict everything that can cause injury or illness?

Do we have a number of rescuers who have been injured or killed while on a rescue of a rock climber that has been injured specifically while rock climbing in summer and not wearing a helmet? I’m sure it’s tiny if at all, but of course, I don’t know, its guesswork and that is the same guesswork as the helmet police use. Why let the truth, facts and statistics get in the way of righteousness hey!

I’m also guessing the person who wrote the above is a non-driving, non-smoking, t-total, slim, vegan, because I’m pretty sure the pressure on the NHS and the rescue services is a little larger from car crashes, heart attacks, strokes, sclerosis of the liver, bowel cancer, lung cancer and all the other things brought about by these things.  I’d certainly wear a helmet if I ever chose to buy a burger from McDonalds because that shit is deadly!

 I think it is entirely irresponsible of you to show this without helmets. DMM has a duty of care to show responsible behaviour in the climbing world and this is a failure on your part I’m afraid. Whilst it is personal choice to wear one, you have a duty to do the right thing. Erinsmum08 YouTube

Social Media, it’s everywhere influencing millions of people, destroying lives, causing suicides, self-harm, eating disorder, mental illness, interfering in elections, bullying, trolling, lies, racism, sexism, homophobia. Kids are even driving down the wrong side of the motorway now for clicks and likes! On the radio this morning I was hearing that within a few clicks you can watch almost any depraved thing you want and DMM has a duty of care to show responsible behaviour? Seriously, if one old man deciding not to wear a helmet while shuffling sideways triggers you that much Erinsmum you need to open your eyes to what’s really going on out there. Sport, including climbing is dominated now by Red Bull, you know, an energy drink that is full of sugar, how much influence on peoples health is drinking that having?

I always wore a helmet from the very beginning of my rock climbing in 1967. It was one thing my father sensibly insisted on. I’ve seen too many badly injured helmetless climbers to ever change my mind about it. Never found it the slightest problem wearing one. Often had other benefits e.g. a waterproof hat if it started to rain, protecting one’s head when moving beneath low overhangs, or when being attacked by seagulls, minor rock falls, etc. etc. Gordon Stainforth.

Unlike Gordon, I dislike wearing a helmet. I find them very uncomfortable and my head gets hot. I used to do quite a bit of winter climbing, in Scotland, The Alps, Scandinavia, North America, South America, The Greater Ranges, and I wore a helmet all the time. Sometimes I slept in a helmet and this was another reason I looked forward to summer and rock climbing without one. I’m thrilled you never found it the slightest problem Gordon, but I do, we are different, hooray for difference!

Anyway, I’m about to do some yoga now, maybe I’ll fall over while doing warrior 3 and hit my head, perhaps I should wear a helmet? Possibly, we should all just stay in doors and watch the telly while wearing a suit of armour? Stay safe people because it’s a dangerous world out there, although it’s even more dangerous in here.

Andy Kershaw has sadly died aged sixty-six. I listened a lot to him when he presented his world music show, and I liked him as a presenter when he worked for the BBC, he always came across as a pretty down to earth person with occasional warts-and-all, and obviously he had issues that affect many people. He also came across (who really knows what goes on in the depths of anyone’s mind) as a reasonably caring person who was willing to put himself in a place of danger to report stories about human injustice and suffering.

I’m pretty sure I read the attached article from the Independent below when it first came out in 2008 feeling saddened that he was obviously suffering with serious mental health and drink issues brought about by a horrible break up with Juliette Banner, his partner for seventeen years and mother of their two children. I also felt for Juliette Banner, I’m sure it was a terrible situation. Kershaw was an arse by having a fling, something he readily accepted, but he was human and if we all took a Daily Mail approach, there would be cadavers hanging from gibbets littering the countryside. Did he deserve the invasive press coverage of his relationship breakdown and subsequent troubles, I’m not sure he did, it was just titillating claptrap that should have been kept private and was not much of a story unless you’re into celebrity gossip?

When a long term relationship breaks down it can very easily turn nasty on both sides. I’m sure it’s happening much of the time, all over the place; and the most ordinary of people can turn into a messed up wreck, act out of character and do things they regret. There are generally two sides to relationship break-ups that people know nothing about and throwing someone on the scrap heap of life because they have messed up is pretty shortsighted and lacking in empathy.

So, where am I going with this, and what’s it got to do with climbing? Nothing really apart from when someone on a recent UKC forum highlighted that Andy Kershaw had died, and in response, another person said a few things (included in bold below) that flicked my switch. It’s my problem I know. I’m not really sure why I bother, as the general fallout from writing something like this takes a toll, but it has made me feel a bit better to try and right a wrong for someone who cannot defend themselves.

Here is a link to the thread and below are the comments in bold.

https://www.ukclimbing.com/forums/off_belay/andy_kershaw_rip-789675

Unfortunately behind his broadcasting ability there was a very dark private side resulting in prison time. Maybe have a think about that? 

It was a serious offence involving abuse. 

You would no doubt decry Epstein etc and other but good old Andy was a top bloke.  Give us a break.

It’s not often I feel the need to comment on forums as I feel they are the wild west. People, (not all by a long stretch, but enough!) hide behind pseudonyms and made up identities. They enjoy trolling and upsetting folks, and many threads end up with arguing. But this person speaking about Andy Kershaw bothered me as I felt it’s a good example of how people on forums and social media make stuff up, (knowingly or not) and then with some form of righteous aggression, put it out there as the truth when it’s not, its just intolerant and small-minded rubbish.

Kershaw was obviously suffering terribly with a mental health issue brought about by separating from the person he loved and not been allowed to see his kids. Can this be classed as a very dark side? Then to say he did prison time without actually saying what the prison time was for is unsubstantiated gossip, its Trumps made up rubbish, it’s hinting at something and not actually giving us evidence, or even the actual truth. It’s this kind of ignorant, unsubstantiated spaff that is the blight of the internet. It’s this sort of nasty stuff that makes forums and social media a cesspool and takes away the good things that can come from them, although I will admit, I’m of the firm belief the bad that comes from them far outweighs the good, and the world was better before they existed. All I can say is, the poster better start staying inside and locking the door as there are hundreds of people going through a similar experience as Kershaw; it doesn’t make them monsters, or bad people per se, in many cases its just normal people who are failing to cope, people that need help.

To compare him to Epstein is absolutely ridiculous, nasty and possibly slanderous. I’m guessing the person who wrote these comments is a throw-away-the-key, Daily Mail reading person, because as it says in the Guardian article about his death, once he got over the devastating break-up and not been allowed to see his kids, he returned to work and was never arrested or broke the law again, so, in other words, he made a full recovery and became a normal, functioning member of society. In my mind that shows strength and courage, and it’s a success story, something to be looked on with optimism, not unforgiving right wing blinkers.

For anyone interested in the actual true story of how a life of someone not perfect, but not really that bad, can fall apart, here is a link to the article in the Independent.  https://www.independent.co.uk/news/people/profiles/andy-kershaw-the-year-my-life fell-apart-917948.html

And here is what Kershaw said on his cancer diagnosis, It’s taken from the Guardian,

Revealing his cancer diagnosis in a statement earlier this year, he said he was in “good spirits”, joking he was “determined not to die before Benjamin Netanyahu, Vladimir Putin, Donald Trump and Ant’n’Dec. That should keep me going for a while.”

https://www.theguardian.com/media/2026/apr/17/bbc-radio-dj-andy-kershaw-dies-aged-66

Andy Kershaw was not Nelson Mandela, but in general he was a pretty caring human being with faults that he worked through and then continued to live a life without any further episodes like the awful ones he previously had and regretted.

Anyway, I’m sorry, my return to writing has very quickly gone off-piste again, I’ll try harder in the future.

Wout, a very fluffable cat!

Writing about climbing is a thing I have chosen not to do in the last few years. It’s not that I can’t be arsed, its more the fact that climbing has changed so much from the thing I originally got into, I don’t really feel what I have to say is relevant or makes a difference. I’m sure there are a large majority of climbers that don’t understand where I’m coming from because my view is one of a dinosaur. They probably don’t know what the hell I’m talking about, (I’m not sure if I know myself). They possibly don’t care, and this is OK, things change, and you go along with it, or you butt your head against it, or become bitter and alcoholic and rant on UKC forums, or maybe you choose to do as I now do; carry on quietly doing your thing and take less notice about the all-encompassing activity you once loved because it’s changed from a small fluffy caterpillar into a massive cabbage eating moth, (I actually really like moths, so this is a bad metaphor, but I’m sure you get it, things change). And the times I used to spend writing about climbing I now spend ruffling the cat, it’s a lot more relaxing and less stressful!

In the last few years, most of my writing was becoming quite boring because I couldn’t get over how horrible and destructive Social Media is, and my hate of it entered into most of my writing, so we are all better without that, me especially, although low and behold, here it is… ARG!!!

Anyway, yesterday I went climbing at Craig y Forwyn and led The Groan, it’s a brilliant E2 5c that I’ve climbed many times. Admittedly, I hadn’t climbed it before my friend Tim cleaned it, but once Tim had cleaned it, I began to lead it at the start of almost every visit, it’s a really great route. It appears that many people agree with me; since it was cleaned, it’s had well over one hundred logs on UKC and almost without exception, everyone has commented on the quality. At around the same time as the climb received its spruce-up, (possibly a bit later reading UKC logbook comments) someone had drilled and glued two bolts and added rings, so a leader did not have to top out if they didn’t want to, they could put a couple of draws in, or a locker and lower off as long as they had sixty-metre ropes, and belay their second from the ground. Did the route need this, and what the reason was for it, I’m not sure? In my opinion, it was not needed, but it certainly made the route more accessible and convenient, which I’m sure is a part of the reason It’s become so popular. Again, making a route more popular and convenient is not a good enough reason in my mind to start putting in lower-offs etc, but it was done and along with many other people I went with it and enjoyed the fact I could easily get down and belay from the ground. God I’m getting old!

When I led it a couple of days ago I’d been told by my climbing partner there was a possibility the lower off had been chopped, so we rigged a lower off before walking down to check, and found that yes, it had been chopped.

Since climbing The Groan I’ve been thinking loads about the chopping and its intrigued me enough as to actually stop fluffing the cat, get onto the sofa and write something.

I can’t really come to a conclusion if chopping the lower-off was the correct decision or not? Personally I think the drilling and gluing of these bolts that look like pegs is a really nuanced thing that depends on loads of factors like where it is, the rock type, what difference it makes to the feel of the climb, what it’s replacing, what other, if any, protection is available and loads of other things. I know it’s a fairly emotive subject and its one I have an opinion, but I’m not prepared to get into on the internet as in general internet debates become a load of people, (some more knowledgeable than others, some more serious than others) shouting and not listening, and I really can’t be arsed, so I’ve shied away from entering into the many on-line debates about these things as it’s a minefield that in my mind will never be sorted out by people throwing in their opinion on the internet.

On this occasion though, I wanted to raise the subject as I find it fascinating why someone has suddenly decided to chop these bolts after they have been in place for approximately six years? Seriously, I’d really like to know why you chose to do this, I’m neither for nor against it, I’d just find it interesting to know why and why now? I’m not sure keeping quiet about doing it helps the situation, if you feel so strongly about these bolts, maybe having the courage of your conviction and speak up about why you’ve done what you’ve done would help others understand and agree with your actions? I know not everyone looks at UKC logs and feedback, but if only to let people know there was no longer a lower-off, and they need to either top out or pre-set up a lower-off, would have been helpful, especially for climbers that regularly do the route and were climbing it expecting it to be the same as it has been for several years.

Like I say, I don’t mind they have been chopped, trad climbing isn’t about convenience and topping out on this route is no hardship and no different than topping out on other routes. Being a bit old skool, I also like the touch of anarchy of just doing it, it takes me back to what climbing was, but climbing has changed and maybe with more ways to openly debate stuff, this attitude is just for dinosaurs like me?

Another question I’d be really interested to know the answer to, is why this route, why this lower-off? There are other lower-offs at Forwyn and glue in bolts that are probably more in line for chopping than this one, and in the grand scheme, there are bolts that have been placed in sea cliffs and mountain rock that should never be there, but still are? The two that come to mind immediately are the bolt that has replaced the stacked pegs on Melon Transplant on Hidden Wall, and the bolt that has been put in on Barbarossa, Upper Tier years after the peg had gone, and the climb had had many ascents without it.

Removing the lower-off on The Groan has been done without dialogue and without (to my knowledge) any notice, no one knows the reason or can learn from why it’s been done. So please, if you are the person who removed the lower-off, it would be great if you could comment below and let me know the reason. It would also be good to know if you intend to chop any of the other bolts and lower-offs, so I don’t end up repeating a route and find myself in the middle of no-persons land without a paddle 😉

Right, that’s possibly it now for another three years, so I’m back to fluffing the cat,

Cheers, Nick.

Wen Zawn with Caff on an on-sight attempt of Hardback Thesaurus.

I was reading a forum topic on UKC a few days ago started by Chris Craggs, the title of the topic is, Awareness of Danger, here is a link

In his opening post, Chris explains,

“We were climbing at Horseshoe today and Colin pointed out the team to our left. The leader had gone up about six clips, taken a few falls then lowered off, stripping all the remaining quickdraws on the way down. The other guy top-roped up to the high bolt, pressed on then promptly fell off.

I put my best schoolyard voice on shouted the he should lower down and clip at least one more bolt below him ‘just in case’. He apologised, thanked me and did just that. One of our team chatted to them later, it was their first day climbing out doors.

I was a bit shocked at their apparent lack of understanding that they might be in danger, bolts don’t generally fail, and ropes don’t usually become unclipped – but it can happen.”

*

Reading the post, reminded me (loosely) of a situation a few years ago when Jack Geldard, James McHaffie, Adam Wainwright and I decided to go climbing in Wen Zawn at Gogarth.

The day was overcast. The kind of monochrome sky that gives one thing, and it isn’t a good thing. The four of us abseiled into the zawn, the sea was well out, the boulders all proud and slippery. The rain started almost as soon as we began boulder hopping and looking around. The sea must have been on spring tides, it was swirling around the boulders, but shallower than I’d seen before. The swishing noise of the sea reverberated around the enclosed, and dark space. The steep, glistening walls loomed.

Adam and I were hoping to climb a route first climbed in 1991 by Paul Pritchard and Leigh McGinley called Rubble, it was an E7 6a, the best line in the zawn, and possibly, the softest. Jack and Caff were going to try a Johnny Dawes and Bob Drury E7 6b, called, Hardback Thesaurus. The first ascent of Hardback Thesaurus had taken several, ground up attempts by johnny, over several days, and set the standard for the route. Without hunting through Google, (other search engines available) there is a film somewhere of Johnny attempting, and repeatedly falling from the climb, that was given the grade E8, and obviously dangerous. Caff was, of course, going on-sight, armed with a big rack of gear, that he would not need, and several skyhooks, which he would!

The rain was now heavy, and the four of us took shelter in the back of the zawn. Mr Softy and The Mad Brown, both routes, alongside George Smith, Adam had been on the first ascent. The walls, blocks of orange and yellow and grey, spiralling above, were running water. The light was foreboding, the rock was dark and getting darker. Oh well, I thought, nothing doing today. At some point the rain stopped and Caff edged his way across the boulders to stand beneath Hardback.

“Shall we give it a go, Jack?” Caff suggested.

Jack looked a tad perplexed, but he wasn’t the one about to launch onto this wet, unprotected wall, so said,

“Erm, yeah, OK, James.”

[I’ve always known Caff as Caff, but Jack had always called Caff by his proper name, James. To this day, I’ve never really wondered why this is, and I’ve never asked Caff which he prefers?]

Adam and I boulder-hopped across to the start of the pretty mad looking, overhanging concrete dyke, which is rubble. I ran my hand over the rock, it was soaking.

“I’m not trying this today, Adam.”

I turned to look into the depths of the Zawn where Caff, (belayed by a very concerned Jack) had pulled onto the wall. I was pretty sure the attempt would end quickly, once Caff had decided it was not in condition, but carefully, and cautiously, Caff made progress. I should have known Caff would keep going, as on other occasions where I had belayed, his tenacity, in the face of adverse conditions, was remarkable. In some ways, it was possibly this tenacity, to give things a go, when a whole host of things were against it happening, is what got Caff up many of the hard routes.

There was the odd bit of gear, but as he crept higher, it really was, the odd bit, and it really didn’t look to be that good. Sporadically, Caff would ask Jack to keep an eye, although to be honest, I’m sure there wasn’t enough distance for Jack to run, (one side of the zawn to the other) to save a ground fall.

Caff made some quite tricky, wet and unprotected moves to the right and placed a skyhook. If the hook ripped, he would certainly hit the ground, as the last gear was a long way beneath. Shaking out, repeatedly chalking-up, (remember, the rock is wet!) he aimed for a small overhang where he said he could see a possible nut placement. He reached the nut placement, which he then shouted down saying it wasn’t so good, and eased another skyhook onto a small edge. After some time, he began, what looked to be a hard sequence of moves, undercutting a small overhang. Shouting, Caff said he could definitely see a good hold and some gear a little way above, but in a flash, one of the flakes he was undercutting ripped, and he was flying. I’d never before, or since, screamed while watching someone fall. I was sure I was witnessing the death of my friend, but he stopped, the hooks, one on each rope, had held.

“Let me down Jack.”

He reached the floor and untied. I must admit I felt a tad wobbly, Jack looked nauseous, but Caff looked OK.

“What are we going to do now?”  Jack asked, looking up at a wet wall, with a few bits of gear, and the two ropes hanging from the two, distant skyhooks.

Caff looked up, then turned to Jack saying, “You should give it a go on top rope Jack, those hooks are bomber.”

*

I must admit that Chris’s story, and his shock at the climber stripping out all the draws beneath the one he was lowering, and then the next person top-roping from this one draw and bolt, reminded me a bit of the Wen Zawn episode. I wonder if Chris would have put on his best school yard voice that day and had a word with Caff?

Iggy.

Recently, I received two messages that came in a day apart, both were from friends who are climbing in Chulilla, Spain. The messages were about the same subject, and in each message, my friends said a story was doing the rounds, and it was a story that I played a part. When they told me what story it was, I replied, that I was a part of the story, as much as I didn’t want to be, and the story would possibly make a good bit of writing, so here goes…

Chulilla is a small town set high on the side of a wide and twisting gorge cut by the Rio Turia; a meandering body of water flowing in the base of the gorge. Once the river passes the town, it cuts back on itself one hundred and eighty degrees, forming something similar to a Venezuela Tepui, a large island of rock on the land between the U bend in the river. Reeds, in the base of the gorge swish in the breeze, and small birds’ flit between the delicate stalks. I’ve spent many days climbing, and often being ejected from the steep and high, yellow and orange limestone walls. Late in the evening, as the sun sets, jogging along the sandy track that follows the river, it’s easy to lose yourself, and imagine you’re in some South American jungle.

Chulilla.

My first trip to Chulilla was about seven years ago with Zylo. We hadn’t been together long, but I do remember her repeatedly trying, and lobbing from the crux of a very good and long 7a+ called Serengeti. In itself, this was impressive, but, while stripping the route, clipped to the second bolt; taking the rope out of the quickdraw she was clipped to, (so I could take the rope tight) she somehow caught the tip of her index finger in the draw and leant back. Her fingertip exploded. The blood that flew from her finger was possibly more impressive that her tenacity higher up the climb, and after lowering her down, the exploded tip was pouring blood. The following day, she taped and glued her finger and gave Serengeti a few more goes, which I must admit, I found impressive and scary in equal measure!

Several months later, over Christmas, and still together, (of course we were still together, she was hard as nails, although a tad mad!) Zylo and I spent a month in Chulilla. For a few days, it poured with rain and I went running. On one of my runs, I left the village, jogging past the sewerage works, (an excellent van doss as long as you don’t mind the odd waft of human shit) then up and over a col, and onto the other side of the gorge, leading to the dam, and the parking for the climbing. The rain hammered, streams flowed where streams don’t usually flow, the sky was dark and cloudy, and the temperature was more north Wales than Valencia region. I jogged from the dam, along the sandy footpath, heading towards the suspended footbridge over the gorge at its narrowest. The path runs along the opposite river bank to the section of crag that has the largest, and in my mind, best climbing at Chulilla, sector Oasis. Of course, there was no one climbing because that would be really crazy given the weather and conditions, but as I stomped through the sodden sand, opposite a section of the crag called Pared Blanca, there was one, obviously deranged person, power screaming his way up one of the 8a’s. I stopped to watch the surreal spectacle; a person climbing a hard climb, in the cold, with a waterfall pouring over the top of the climb. Great dark swathes of water flowed each side of him. Impressive. But definitely mad!

A Christmas Day beer at Pared Blanca.

Several days later, Zylo and I were at a crag called Naranjito where she climbed a 7a+ that had no name (and possibly no other ascents, although she insisted it was good!) and she didn’t explode any of her fingers, so all was fine. We then went to Pared Blanca for me to try a route called Kataplof that I had put the clips in a few days earlier on Christmas Day. Kataplof is a Pedro Pons climb. Pedro and his partner Nuria own the Hostel El Altico in the village, and both have been involved in the development in Chulilla. On that first trip, Zylo and I were camping at the hostel, and after trying a 7c that I can’t remember the name, or even where it was, we returned to the hostel, where I wined to Pedro that the route I had been trying, had no holds. Pedro replied, ‘Of course it has holds Nick, its only 7c’. I took myself away and wept into my Voll Damm!

Kataplof had no stars, no chalk, no polish and no entries in UKC logbooks, (possibly the no polish, and no chalk, was related to the no logbook entries … ooooh, political!). The fact that it was an unknown, appealed to me. It also looked brilliant and long, so why not, (I must admit, the honey pot thing, that is brought about by stuff being posted on the internet has always bothered me a bit, you may not have notice 😉).

The crag had dried out and there was one other party there, who, it turned out, was someone I knew.

“Hey Josh, how are you?”

Josh Wharton was originally from the East Coast of the States, and described by Kelly Cordes, (also from the States) as a weapon. Josh climbed around the world, in the mountains, on rock, ice and mixed, and on some very difficult and bold climbs, he was very good.

“Yeah, good thanks Nick.”

I recalled my run in the rain from a week ago,

“Were you climbing here in the rain last week?” I asked.

“Yeah, it was raining a bit.”

Now it made sense,

“No shit!”

I had a go at Kataplof, and fell off. Josh on-sighted a long and pumpy 7c+ to my right, (thinking about it, he may have climbed another 8a) then asked if he could have a go at my route. He on-sighted that also. I wasn’t going to have another go as I was still pumped, but inspired by Josh, got on, and surprised myself by doing it, there’s possibly a lesson to be taken from this, although I’m not sure what it is…

Josh on Kataplof (I think!)

Chulilla is great, and all of the stories above are from Chulilla, but none are the story doing the rounds at the moment in Chulilla. The story doing the rounds goes back a good few years, from a time I was best man at my friend’s wedding somewhere near the Cotswolds.

My friend is a climber, a great friend who has a bad habit of climbing the same hill, driving big four-wheel drive vehicles and wearing wrist watches that are too big, expensive, and heavy. We had loads of the same friends, and most of them were at the wedding. Personally, I think the only reason he asked me to be best man was because he knew I would not go to town on the speech, and take it from me, there was a lot of potential to go to town! But as outspoken as I can be on occasion, I would never include some of the content I had knowledge of, certainly not in a best man’s speech, else it may have been a very short marriage, and my friend knew this. Yes, for once, I was a safe bet, who would have thought!

In the evening, everyone hung out and drank too much. The venue was a posh hotel and pub, it had dark nooks and crannies and open fires. A group of about fifteen of us stood in an alcove. Everyone standing in the circle were close friends. Most of the group I knew from my winters in Chamonix. I had slept on their sofas, skied and climbed with them all, we all knew each other well. One of the group was, and still is, a great mate. In some aspects, we were quite different, he hardly drank alcohol, he was all over social media with pictures mainly of himself, and he always appeared to be following some weird form of diet. He was also much fitter, and a better climber and skier than me. We had Alpine climbed, skied, rock climbed, trained, run, expedition climbed, Scottish winter climbed, almost all of it, together, and regularly, (It isn’t Andy Houseman for those of you trying to guess, although you possibly knew that because I said I’d trained and run with this person and they didn’t drink 😉).

Grande Jorasses North Face. The ski descent from Breche Puiseux is on the right.

Of the many days together, I still remember one snowy and sunny day in Chamonix, that me and my un-named mate, who for the purpose of this story, I’ll call Iggy, had some spare time. So, on a whim, we jumped on a mid-morning Midi ski lift, arrived at the top station, bustled through the ice tunnel, clicked into skis, and skied the top section of the Valley Blanche, heading to the Italian side of the Giant Icefall. From the top of the icefall, we skinned up the Periades glacier; zig-zag, after monotonous, zig-zag, for about 600m, before reaching a cliff band, where we attached crampons to ski boots, skis to rucksacks, and kicked-up another 300m, of the South Couloir of the Breche Puiseux, to finally reach Breche Puiseux, a rocky gap in the sticky out bits on the right hand side (looking up from the Leschaux Glacier) of the ridge running across the North Face of the Grandes Jorasses (I know this isn’t the best description, but hopefully, you get the idea). I must admit, I was hanging by the time we reached the breche, we had hardly stopped since leaving the Midi, and it had been in full sun. The altitude gain was just over 1000 hot metres. Iggy, being very fit, had pushed the pace because he was concerned we would miss the final Montenvers train back to the valley. I’m also pretty sure I’d not taken any food or water!

We didn’t stop in the breche, in-fact, when I got there, Iggy was already abseiling down the north side, we now had 3000m of descent. After two abseils, we attached skis, and in the shade of the brooding Grande Jorasses North face, skied the Glacier of the Mont Mallet without stopping, until we reached the levelling of the Leschaux Glacier, nearly opposite the Leschaux refuge. I only learnt to ski at the age of 37, and my skiing was a source of great fun for all of my friends, and I must admit, my thighs were screaming on the descent, so much so, I’m pretty sure I yelled to my mate, ‘leave me, I’ll walk the train tracks back to the valley, I don’t care!’ But once on the level, we continued to the lower section of the Vallee Blanche, and the Mer de Glace, where, after something like four-hours since leaving the Midi station, we joined the queue for the small cabins, that took us to the train station. As I stood in the queue and walked, my arms began to lock, my legs cramped and I thought I was about to vomit.

“Here you go mate.”

My friend had a square of dark chocolate and water with orange isotonic flavouring; he always looked after me.

Anyway, back to the wedding, where we all stood in the alcove. Iggy, hardly ever drinks, but on this occasion, he had a few red wines, and it was almost as funny as my skiing stance. He wobbled like I had in that queue for the train, before then sitting down on a chair. I don’t think he was in a relationship at the time, although to be honest, Iggy and relationships were often, how to put it, fluid, or at least that’s how he saw them! There was a woman in the circle who had history with him, and as he sat down, he looked up at her, lifted his tea-shirt to reveal the ribbed muscles of his stomach, and said, “Go on love, treat yourself.” Needless to say, this garnered a reaction from the crowd of friends.

I can’t remember what time I went to bed, but it was late, and I was a tad worse for wear. As the best man, I had been sharing a room with my friend who had just become a married man, but inconsiderately, he had moved rooms to share with his wife, meaning I was now sharing with Iggy. I collapsed in bed, and the thought ran through my mind, ‘he better not’. I fell into a bit of a stupor holding this thought, but as drunk as I was, and as drunk as he was, I was pretty sure he wouldn’t.

I woke in the dark, and heard something I had not heard all the way up to the Breche Puiseux, it was Iggy a little out of breath, he was actually breathing quite heavy!

Oh no, I couldn’t believe it, she had obviously taken up Iggy’s offer and decided to ‘treat herself’, so I rolled over, pulled the blanket and pillow over my head, then pushed fingers into ears and began to hum the theme tune to Postman Pat.

I’m not sure at what point the proceedings stopped, but I sensed there were still two people nearby, and just for a second I thought of sitting up, turning on the lamp, and asking if either of them had a cigarette, but in the end, because Iggy was my mate, and he had given me a drink and a square of chocolate in that queue, I decided not to, but, even a drink of water that had some isotonic ingredients, and a square of posh, dark, 80 percent chocolate only buys you so much loyalty. 😉

Guy Robertson on the first ascent of Mind Bomb. We gave this new, final pitch, of the Fowler and Wilkinson climb Ice Bomb on Beinn Dearg, an old skool grade VI, to keep in line with many of Mick’s climbs.

My folks retired and lived for quite a few years on a canal boat; travelling around the inland waterways of England. When they became too old to navigate the rivers and canals, they moored-up, permanent, at a birth near Northampton. Mum died, the week between Christmas and New Year 2015. Later that year, with my friends Mark and Nikki, and my nephew Jake, we moved dad and the boat, Jasper, south to be near my sister.

A few years passed, dad quite enjoyed living in the marina near the centre of Hemel Hempstead, but rarely spoke of mum, or what they had, which was over fifty years together. He very rarely dwells on the past, he compartmentalises like no one else I know, or I’m sure, will ever know.

Dad’s health was not the best, and one day he fell and lay unconscious until a neighbour found him. He was taken to hospital, where he slipped and broke his hip. Lesley, my sister told me to expect the worse, he possibly wouldn’t survive the operation to fix his hip. Throughout my later life, these, dad will more than likely not survive scenarios, have been frequent, and, not only did he survive, he recovered. Unbeknown to dad, while he was in hospital, Lesley and I cleared the boat and sold it. Dad was not firm enough to continue living that style of life. Lesley gave Paddy, dad’s dog, to a friend, and also his parrot. It took two days to empty the boat, and sort dad’s stuff. Dad had moved nothing since mum had died, it was really sad going through mum’s stuff, sorting through things I’d brought them back from my expeditions.

Lesley found a place for dad in a care home near her, and dad moved in, not once asking about the boat, Paddy, or Barney the parrot. This was his lot, he accepted it and moved on.

Covid came and took many people living in care homes, but not dad; against the odds, the old bastard just kept going and smoking his roll ups!

I hadn’t seen dad in a few years because of Covid, and to be honest, he is a hard act to love, and never appears to want any love, or give any out. The relationship between dad and myself is complex. I do love him, but find it hard to travel hundreds of miles with the cost of trains or fuel, to see him, especially when he doesn’t appear that bothered to see me.

Lesley sent me a message in the autumn saying dad had had a fall, and was in hospital, and this time, he almost certainly was not coming out alive. She told me I should drive to Dunstable to see him before he died. I knew I had to see him, but I must admit, I was fretting about the cost and the time. I had been spending money, and working all year building sheds to live, and I desperately wanted to finish the work, so I could once again become a climber. To be really frank, the amount of times dad had been about to die over the last twenty years was almost as much as Boris Johnson had lied to the nation. The old bastard was indestructible, I was starting to think he would outlive me, and was almost sure he would make a recovery, but I hadn’t seen him for about three years, so one afternoon, set off on the ten-hour, return journey.

The ward dad was on had a covid outbreak, and on the door, there was a sign saying no visitors were allowed, but a friendly nurse said because I had travelled a long way, I could come in as long as I wore a mask, gown and gloves. She pointed to the bed dad was in, and left me to it. The gown was stretched over my clothes, and tying the knot behind my back was desperate. Bloody hell, I thought, I’ve tied a million knots, surely, I can tie this one behind my back!  The gloves were too small, I could hardly get my fat climbers’ fingers into the fingers! Eventually, plastic wrapped, I walked down the ward and almost walked past the bed with dad. I hardly recognised the frail old man beneath the covers. He recognised me though,

“Bloody hell, it’s our youth.”

“Hey dad, how you doing?”

Dad was never big and imposing, he was always slim, but he had the tenacity of a terrier, and a forceful, opinionated presence. I was desperately trying to hold back tears; he looked so frail and vulnerable; it maybe also gave me a glimpse of my own mortality?

I sat an hour and a half, and in that time, he actually shone. He was cheeky to the nurses, several times asking for a cup a tea that hadn’t arrived. At one point he started loudly saying, “tea up.” It was pretty obvious he was going to once again escape the clutches of the grim reaper, and maybe even this hospital. Interestingly, he said he was ok, he quite liked it in the hospital. I must admit, I thought it was awful, there were sick and dying people all around, I felt myself becoming depressed. I marvelled at dad, here he was, an eighty-seven-year-old, that had gone from having a marriage and a house, to a marriage and a boat, to a boat and a dog and a parrot, to a room in a care home, to a hospital bed, and he lay there saying he was ok, not a single complaint. He made me feel guilty.

I drove back to north Wales the same day with a head full of emotion. Hell, in some ways he was miraculous, but in others, I just don’t know? What a thing to be able to shut out all that has gone before and just go with what you have been dealt?

Dad.

My last expedition to the Greater Ranges was in 2018. After this, there was Covid, where I wrecked my body from running and weighted hangboarding. After the lockdowns, my knees, hip, lower back, neck and shoulders, were all on the cusp, and I made the conscious decision to stop expeditions, winter climbing and running, they all took too much of a toll on my joints, and because I was still rock climbing as well as ever, and enjoying it as much as I always had, I decided to throw myself into this, and see how I could progress without the other things eating into my time and energy. Don’t misunderstand, it’s not easy. I have not stopped because I want to, I’ve stopped out of necessity, and because I’m lucky, I still have rock climbing, something I love. I prefer to continue enjoying climbing as well as I can on the rock, than becoming bitter and twisted, while attempting to do things my body no longer wants me to do. There have also been the sheds, (look back through previous posts) and I very much enjoy living where I now live.

In some way, I have taken my dad’s example, and attempted to compartmentalise. That was then, this is now, move forward, don’t live in the past. But it is difficult, especially as many people talk to me about what is happening, and ask me when I’m going to Scotland, or on the next big trip. I want to scream, ‘leave me alone, I don’t want to know’, but of course, this isn’t acceptable, so I generally say something like, I’ve given up, I’m too old, body hurts too much, and move the conversation along.

I have given you this preamble for a couple of reasons, one is to give you a glimpse into my life now, and some background. The other is to explain how, or why, I’ve decided to stop winter climbing and the mountains. There is actually a lot more to it than what I have written. I’ve lost many friends over the years, this has had an impact, and the way things have changed within climbing; the social media stuff and consumerism, these are also reasons I think the time is right for me to distance myself from something I love. There is also the big elephant in the room, climate change. Climate change is something I feel strongly about, even though I’ve done quite a bit in the past to make the situation worse. But I don’t see this as reason, not to try and do what little I can now.

Even though I try not to get involved with what is going on anymore, at times it’s almost impossible, given these crazy internet times we live, and the way almost everything and everybody has to advertise their wares on social media. I almost always refuse to enter debates and conversations on forums and social medial platforms, it’s pointless, because for one, you have no idea who you are talking to, and what motivates them, and even when its someone who is actually honest and knowledgeable, hardly anyone listens to what is being said. They just plough ahead with their own beliefs. But, on occasion, something happens, or is said, that I feel the need to add my thoughts, (not as they are any more, or less, pertinent that anyone else’s) and so it is at the moment.

Myself on the crux pitch and the second ascent of Guerdon Grooves. We refused to talk about grades when Byard Russel, Guy Robertson and I climbed the second ascent after a 28 year wait of this mythical route… The grade really didn’t matter!

Scottish winter climbing has always been close to my heart. There is something exceptionally unique about how people taking part, hold themselves and adhere to the long, rich and stringent ethics. The reason they do this, or a part of the reason they do this, is to maintain the ethos. For those of a certain mind-set, people in search of new climbs, there is nothing better than setting out in the dark, not-knowing what the day may hold. There is nothing better that arriving at a cliff, and seeing what it has presented you with. There are obviously times when you have an idea, you know of something that might be possible, but until you tie on and give it a go, you just don’t know. Going into the unknown on a big cliff in winter, a cliff that might be a long way from anywhere, is almost unique in these days of information overload, and the health and safety conscious, sanitised life we are led to believe we should live. Scottish winter climbing is a kick in the tatties for the government officials telling us we have to wrap ourselves in cotton wool. Under no circumstances, should we start to chip away at the ethics that make Scottish winter unique.

Scottish winter climbing is not rock climbing, it is a different beast. There are similarities obviously, but there is a world of difference between the two, people should not try to compare one, with the other. Scottish winter climbing has held on to its strong ethics of on-sight, or at least ground up, even though, on rare occasions, the odd person has come along to challenge this. Fortunately, the consensus has held on to the firm belief, for Scottish winter climbing to remain unique, almost on the world stage, (people really do travel from all over the world to climb in Scotland in winter, because of its truly adventurous nature) it has to keep those strong ethics, and when people challenge this by ignoring the ethics of the day, they should be questioned and confronted.

The cliffs in Scotland are actually quite small, and once you begin to use similar tactics as those that can be used on a summer rock climb, you bring down that challenge massively, you turn something that is very adventurous and unknown, into a known, something to be tamed. You also take away the first ascent from others that are happy and excited to take on the challenge in its truest form, the same as the pioneers from all the years before, the same as history and the ethics of the day ask you to do now.

Where Scottish winter is concerned, I have never been of the opinion for it to remain healthy, grades have to be improved. Why do grades have to be improved? The physical difficulty of a route, is a very small part of what the whole thing is about. Scottish winter climbing is not a bolted sport climb, or a bolted dry tool climb, it is not about achieving your physical limit. Climbing harder and harder is not ‘advancing’ the activity. Do we need grades to progress to make this unique thing somehow better? No. The grades of climbs mean something, of course, but if the top grades of winter climbs never go up again, it won’t make any difference to the activity as a whole, or what it means to the activists.

A week or two ago, I read on UKC about a new winter climb on Shelterstone, or to be more precise, the first winter ascent of the established rock climb, Stone Bastion. The summer grade is E4, the winter grade X/10. It took Tim Millar and Jamie Skelton several visits to complete the climb, going from bottom to top in a day. Good tenacity that! I must admit, in all my years of winter climbing in the UK, I only ever returned to a climb I had failed to on-sight, once, obviously I should have tried harder.

Having failed to climb the final, crux pitch twice, the next time Tim and Jamie walked to Shelterstone, they decided to start at the top, and take turns to abseil, and top rope the pitch that had stopped them. Then, armed with the knowledge from working the crux pitch, they returned on another day and made the full winter ascent. Here is the news item on UKC.

Writing about this specific climb, I know I’m making it a bit personal. This is the last thing I want to do as both climbers in this case are obviously really keen, talented and driven. I’m sure they are both fine people, (I’ve never met either of them, and they have not met me, so the jury is out for all of us 😉). I hope in weeks to come, or months, maybe a year, they look at the tactics they chose, and come to the conclusion, it wasn’t the best. What they chose to do damages the ethics of Scottish winter climbing by distilling it, and by doing what they have done, makes it easier for others to use similar methods, on climbs of any grade. I firmly believe if this kind of thing continues, there will be teams all over the Northern Cories top roping everything, and some of the last great winter problems will have had practice before the first ascent. Who knows, maybe they will have had some gear left in place from the practice to aim, and then clip, when the almost guaranteed first winter ascent is made. I’m not saying this was done on this occasion, but if this tactic occurs in the future, I have absolutely no doubt it will. They also took away the first on-sight, or ground-up winter ascent from others, in an activity where less of this type challenge is available. There are others out there that are capable of climbing X/10 on sight and have done. To prove my point, only a few days later, Greg Boswell and Jamie, one of the team who practiced the crux pitch of Stone Bastion before climbing it, made a ground up, first ascent, on the cliffs of Lochnagar. This climb is graded two adjective grades, and three technical grades harder than winter Stone Bastion.

My Scottish winter days are over, I’ve attempted to do a dad thing and compartmentalise, moved forward to hold on to what I’ve got before the surgeon becomes intimate with my body. I don’t want to become one of those bitter people that struggles with not being able to do what I once could. So, does anything I say matter? I suppose you could tell me to get out of here, and fair enough, it’s up to you, I’m just a rambling old man who gives a shit. But for the folk out there still doing it, and for those not yet doing it, you need to decide. Do you want grades, numbers, Instagram posts, fame and money, are these things ‘advancement’, the way forward? Or do you want to hold-on to one of the few things we have left in climbing that has real uncertainty and integrity?

Michael Tweedley on the top pitch of Punster’s Crack sometime in 2003 maybe! As you can see, Norrie got it wrong!

Years ago, now, I think it was winter 2003, so nineteen years ago, I travelled to Scotland. It was quite a full-on Scottish winter, snow down to the road even as far south as Loch Lomond. I met Michael Tweedley, and our first climb was Punster’s Crack on the Cobbler. At the time, Michael had been climbing in winter with an up-and-coming climber called Dumby Dave, (although maybe for those in the know, he had already come at this point!) better known, of course, as Dave Macleod. I’m sure Michael said, Dave and his partner, (who remains unknown to me) had climbed Punster’s Crack, making the first, or possibly the second, or maybe even the third winter ascent? In fact, sitting here now, thinking about it, I’m pretty sure Michael didn’t say this at all, I think he might have mentioned Dave had climbed it, and nothing else. NO, now I remember, I’m pretty sure after we climbed it, Michael told Dave, and Dave had told Michael we had climbed the second, third, or fourth winter ascent? Anyway, I knew nothing about the climb, and remember very little about it, I didn’t even know it was a starred summer route, what an ignorant fool!

At that time, for me anyway, the thought of leaving a Scottish winter climb because it was too snowy, was not a thing, we did Bulgy in the Northern Corries later in the trip, where I do, for once remember swimming in a scary, unprotected upward motion. Basically, if it was winter, and Scotland, and it was plastered in snow, it was in condition. These were beautiful innocent times, well, at least they were for me. I watched weather forecasts and when it looked good, drove North. I walked into crags that I thought would be in condition, and climbed anything that looked good and interesting. Obviously, I had ideas of the climbs I wanted to do, but, more often than not, these would go out of the window as something else came along.

When we climbed Punster’s it was almost skiable, and I still remember climbing the top pitch blindly snagging picks, lifting my front points high and catching them on something, before pulling and standing, to find myself teetering, even higher above the last piece of gear that was way below.

I’m sure I would have been quite exhilarated to top out, but like much else, I don’t remember. I do remember us walking off and thinking about what other climbs we could do. Apart from Michael telling Dave about our ascent, that was it, the climb was done, we moved on to whatever next, there was no blogging, no logbook entry, nothing, that’s how it was, you just went climbing, because you wanted to go climbing and you took a punt (intended) on conditions.

Im sure it was on this Scottish trip in 2003 with Michael, and on a particularly rainy day, he sat me down behind a computer screen in Fort William Library, and showed me how to sign up for an email account. I really didn’t have a clue, I didn’t own a laptop, I had only just learnt how to turn a computer on and off, and thought it was a waste of time. I still have the same email address that Michael showed me how to sign up for all those years ago.

Two months later, maybe three, I visited Canada for an icefall climbing trip. This was my second winter trip to Canada, the first was with Bruce French in 2000, this time I was climbing with Dave Hunter. Dave was the manager at rock and Run in Ambleside at the time. I met Dave for the first time a couple of years previously while staying in the Alex MacIntyre Memorial Hut in North Ballachulish, he was a supply teacher then, and didn’t take work in the winter, concentrating purely on Scottish winter climbing. I liked Dave, he was a loud and grumpy Scot, interested, almost only, on winter climbing. For some reason, we clicked!

In Canada, we travelled around Alberta, with the occasional hop into British Columbia, we climbed loads of classic ice and mixed routes, I suppose the most memorable was an 18-hour, car to car of a completely out of condition Sea of Vapours. As mentioned above, I didn’t follow any forums, or go on the internet at this time, but, as I discovered on this trip, Dave did. We stayed regularly at the Canadian Alpine Club Clubhouse in Canmore, and one night, when I became fed up of doing all the cooking, I went to find him to see what he was doing. It turned out, Dave was downstairs using their pay as you go, get on the internet machine, where he read and added posts to a forum on a website called UKC. I must admit it was beyond me why he wanted to do this, I just didn’t get it, and after having a grumble about him not cooking, left him to his weird and wonderful internet world.

Following a regular theme of this post, I don’t remember when, but sometime after the above internet incident, and obviously when I was a bit more internet savvy, (I think it was after travelling to Canada for the third time with Ian Parnell I became more internet proficient, must have learnt from Ian!) I looked on UKC forums, and it was then, I discovered the occasional mention of me. Now, you modern young things, you’re not going to believe this, but I was truly mortified, I couldn’t believe people had been mentioning me on this weird world wide web. I was especially horrified to see a well know user of UKC forums, Norrie Muir, had mentioned me in a thread about climbing Scottish routes out of condition. Well, what he actually said was, (if I’m remembering correctly because I can’t find the thread on UKC) he had walked beneath the crag, where two people had been climbing Punster’s Crack, and it was completely out of winter condition with no snow. Later, he said he thought (wrongly) the people he had seen climbing was Michael and myself, I think even even said I should have known better. Norrie obviously had heard Michael and I had climbed Punster’s and put 2+2 together, making 37, where he proceeded to slander us. It of course wasn’t us, because as mentioned above, the climb had so much snow as to get a ski grade.

This was almost my first experience of forums and the internet gossiping surrounding climbing, and I must admit, I was glad, I had nothing to do with it, and still to this day, I find the whole Chinese whispers, false accusations and rumour-mill, difficult to accept.

Fast forward to present day. As mentioned in my previous post, I’ve been concentrating on building sheds, and apart from the one trip in the van to France, I’ve stayed local in north Wales. My unscientific plan, in between shed building, was to go rock climbing, and in general, the type of rock climbing that is more guaranteed to get a workout; sport, headpointing, well-travelled trad. I just wanted to get some climbing done so as to not lose too much fitness between building days.

I’m glad to say, the shed ghetto, three sheds in total, is almost done and my plan to remain at a certain climbing level appears to have worked. The good news is, I have a ferry booked for Spain and here I am doing my first bit of writing in a while. The bad news is, here I am doing my first bit of writing for a while!

Although my summer has been busy, I’ve kept up with gossiping and spraying, the occasional ‘interesting’ UKC logbook entry, and climbing stuff on various forums etc, not loads, I find it almost impossible to go onto Facebook newsfeed and Instagram, because I become disenchanted looking at hubris, and the thinly disguised sell, of both person and product (maybe now the person is the product?). The commercialisation of climbing and climbers has become awful, and because they can’t see how much they have been manipulated and modified, they just keep doing it. There are so many untruths, half-truths and dare I say, lies. There is speculation and guess work written up as fact on a daily basis. It almost makes me long for the return of poor old Norrie, (unfortunately he died some time back) because at least we knew Norrie was prone to get things wrong and have the occasional rant, and at least Norrie was talking from a very experienced, all be it, fiery stance. I read stuff now that is written as serious; stuff about how we should climb, what protection we should use on certain climbs, and what protection we shouldn’t use. We are told where we should belay and what bits of gear we need to build a belay. We are even told that if a thing is too dangerous, it should be made safe. Oh my, I remember the days that climbing was about a person making decisions for themselves, and if they got it wrong, and lived, they learnt. Now they are castigated by the health and safety, internet lynch mob. Even people that are usually on it, are writing things incorrectly, that is then taken as gospel, and others add their own wild, and incorrect facts. The whole snowball of incorrect, turns into a massive avalanche of utter tripe. It’s like some kind of Greek mythology, but instead of the rock being repeatedly pushed up hill, it’s a big snowball of made up guesses rolling down to crush us all.

A large proportion of the climbing world now appears to be thriving on incorrect information, and making it worse by adding their own incorrect assumptions. How many times while reading something about a climb, or a climbing topic, do you read, ‘well, I haven’t done the climb, or visited the crag, visited the country, used the piece of gear, etc, etc, but here is my opinion on x, y, or z anyway.’ For pity’s sake, you don’t have to publish an opinion on a subject you know nothing about, you could say nothing, or even better, go and do a climb and get first-hand knowledge of whatever the subject it is you’re commenting on, and then, you’ll be in a position, garnered from experience (thinking about this, having read some of the incorrect facts being written at the moment on UKB and UKC about the bolts being placed on established climbs here in north Wales, it proves having experience of a climb, or an area doesn’t guarantee the facts are correct) to make an informed comment.

Niall McNair on-sighting Barbarossa when there was no peg to protect the crux.
In the ongoing debate about pegbolts on UKB and UKC, this climb is mentioned often. It has also been stated that the climb was seldom done. It was done, possibly not as often as it is now since the bolt has been installed, but to my knowledge, (because I was there) it has had two on-sight ascents and two ground-up attempts without the peg or bolt. There are often many under the radar ascents of climbs that are not mentioned on Social Media or in UKC logbooks.

Taking the on-going pegbolt debate happening now on UKC as an example, it’s also quite concerning how much weight is placed on how loud a person shouts about themselves. People are using the lack of entries, either on social media or UKC logbooks as evidence that climbs are not being climbed. Not all climbers post about their climbs on social media or log them on UKC logbooks, so to use social media or logbooks as some kind of evidence is short-sighted.

An oldish picture of me climbing Lord of the Flies. To use a similar  argument that is being talked  about in the pegbolt debate and Barbarossa, Lord origionally had a peg to protect the run-out, possible ground-fall crux. Shall we put a pegbolt in and make it safe and open it up for more people?

I was listening to Radio 4 a few days ago the programme, Start the Week, featured an interview by the 2021 Nobel peace prize-winner, Maria Ressa. To say it was a revelation is possibly going too far, but when I hear well informed and intelligent people saying the same things that I think or feel, it relieves my concern that I’m going crazy, or becoming some mad conspiracy theory believer. I know there must be many people who feel similar, but here was a Nobel prize winning journalist and author saying the things I’ve thought for some time, hooray!

Ressa says she was the truest of true believers in social media until it attacked us, and so was I, I really did think the original concept gave us, the little people, a voice. But the voice it now gives, and spreads in general appears to be one of misinformation that Facebook, Instagram, (insert whatever SM platform of your choice) ignores. A few phrases she said made complete sense… “Social Media is the tech that has turned into a modification system.” It modifies our behaviour, just think about that, our behaviour changes because of what we see and read, and of course, it changes what we then publish on our own SM platform. Come on, be honest with yourself, how many times do you publish your climb, your trip, your good times on the crag because you want to keep up with the other people that are publishing their climbs, their travels, their ‘fantastic adventures’ or maybe you just want to return to the school yard and show us how good you live in comparison to your friends. She later goes on to say “peer pressure is what you would call high school, but Social Media causes species wide pressure. Social Media is designed to cause anger, fear, and hatred and this is what we are seeing all around the world.” Another thing she says is “meaning has been sucked out, gaslighting has become part of everyday life.” I’ve heard the phrase gaslighting repeatedly, but never really known what the actual meaning was, so here it is, Gaslighting is a manipulative tactic in which a person, to gain power and control, of another individual, plants seeds of uncertainty in another person’s mind.

Anyway, of course, don’t take my word for it, I may be gaslighting, have a listen to the programme here and stay with it to hear Ressa’s take on what needs to be done, which is, “Social Media has to be redesigned, because by design, lies, especially laced with anger and hate, spread faster and further than facts.”

Stu McAleese on an early repeat of a climb I think is called Little Sister at Rhoscolyn, but don’t take my word for it, I might be wrong as I cant find it anywhere on the internet… Maybe it doesnt exist! This route has been repeated a few times to my knowledge, (three at least as I was there) but now sports a pegbolt next to the original stainless peg. This climb is not mentioned on the list of climbs with pegbolts that people are quoting. So, even the list that is being used as some sort of proof of what is being bolted, is inaccurate. UPDATE: I was correct when saying I might be wrong 🙂 The route in the picture is Bigger Girls, but the grade on UKC threw me, as its given E6 6b, and I was confusing the name Bigger Girls, with the route to the left, that IS an E6 6b, and called Dont Cry and not mentioned on UKC. The route in the picture is a tough E5 6a as correctly described in the 2nd edition, Gogarth South, by Ground Up. Good old traditional, well researched guidebook info, who would have thought ;-).

La Saume.

Large drops of rain hit the earth and I can almost hear the gasp. I sit and watch the rain. It’s the first rain in Cymru for some time. I hope it continues.

It’s been a week since I returned from a climbing trip to the Briançon area of France, where, for three weeks, it hardly rained at all. And in those three weeks I watched the green turn brown, the solid of the mountains turn to dust, the rivers flow to a trickle, the glaciers retreat, the sunflowers wilt, and what is left of the bird population, gasp. Every day was thirty degrees and above, and by taking a ferry and driving, I knew, I had made the situation worse.

I have always lived with guilt, but never enough to stop me doing stuff. I’m not going to go into how I live, or what I do as an individual to try to delay what is happening to the climate and the planet, and life on the planet, I don’t think it’ll help, and it opens myself to people shouting, virtue signalling or hypocrite, or whatever appears to be the go-to attack nowadays, but I have always tried to justify the more damaging aspects of my life (I possibly took two, long-haul flights a year for about 15 years.) by living low impact in other ways.

No matter what we do though, there is consequence, that’s a part of living I suppose, it’s part of being alive on the planet, but also, I suppose, there are levels to how much you consider your individual need and selfish desires are worth putting above other, more pressing issues that affect everyone and every living thing?

It’s a difficult situation we all face, but we can’t stop doing stuff that gives meaning, or inspires, or brings joy to ourselves and to others, else what is the point? But surely there must come a time when we all have to change, and reel it in for the greater good? And there must come a time when we revert to the times when we all lived more local and wanted less?

I haven’t written for a while for various reasons, one being, when I’m not climbing, I’m spending my time building small, low impact sheds to drink wine, procrastinate, grumble, moan, rant, write, read and live out the rest of my days. But the biggest reason for not writing is, with everything that has gone on, and what is still going on; the pandemic, wars, Brexit, people displacement crisis, poverty, the cost of living crisis, the rivers being poisoned by the companies that we pay loads of money to look after them, the energy companies ripping us off, the blatantly corrupt and dishonest Johnson and the Conservative Government (or at the moment, the non-PM and non-government) and on, and on and on, and of course, the climate crisis with all of its knock on… well, to be frank, sitting and writing about what a wonderful life I have, and boasting about what climbs I’ve recently climbed, seems a little trite. Don’t get me wrong, climbing is still very important and something I get a lot of joy from, but as things get progressively worse in the world, and things, including climbing, get even more consumeristic, I just find it difficult to be upbeat and put pen to paper about something that is, in the big picture, insignificant.

As I said above, I know we need a point, and we need inspiration, and stories and meaning, of course we do, but some of it, to me anyway, now appears so far from what most people will ever manage to even dream, let alone afford, it’s crass. I must admit to feeling a tad nauseous when I read of yet another millionaire, or millionaires child, ‘conquering’ the mountains with the damage it’s doing on many levels. It could be just me and my cynicism, but when will climbers start asking questions of other climbers about the impacts of their lifestyles? I can hear you now, ‘well, it’s OK for you, you’ve done it,’ and you’re correct, I have, but I can’t change when I was born, and I can’t change what I didn’t know, or appreciate at the time. Yes, I was possibly ignorant, and yes, I believed some of the lies that were fed to the media about climate change being false, but there is no doubt, we all know about what is going on now?

You could also ask, why does it even concern me, and it’s a good question, because I’ll be dead in twenty years, but it feels crazy, almost psychotic to continue as nothing is happening. I really don’t want all animal life on the planet to die and folks to have a horrible time on the lead -up to their own annihilation. And if you’re young and continue taking no notice, well, that’s beyond my comprehension, because all of this shit is going to hit you full in the face sooner, rather than later, unless people change their attitudes.

Anyway, it’s going to be a month or two more before I’m settled into my very well insulated, low emissions shed, so fortunately for you, there may not be any more writing for a while, but don’t worry, I’ll no doubt take to it again at some point, well, unless the planet burns up, or some lunatic pushes the button, or I just can’t be bothered because I feel a large proportion of us deserve what we get, (Sorry to those of you that don’t deserve it, or have been given the shitty end of the stick by us, the ‘developed’ countries!)

Craig Doris. The line of War and Peace. The yellow dot on the right is the start, the yellow dot on the left is the end. The red dots are belays. Pic credit, Jethro Kiernan.

After the event… Pic credit, Ray Wood.

Earlier in the year, at a point in time near the summer solstice, so mid-June, Mick Lovatt and I climbed, or more truthfully, shuffled, the second ascent of the Pat Littlejohn and Steve Sustad 16 pitch traverse of Craig Doris, War and Peace on the Llŷn Peninsular, north Cymru. War and Peace had been on my radar for years, but actually finding a partner and committing to actually starting the route had always been an issue until this year. I’ve just written an account of not only climbing War and Peace, but some background and other climbs that lead up to setting off on pitch one of sixteen.

The full article, Doris Dreaming, can be read here on UKC … Doris Dreaming.