something completely different

 

24th Aug.
This was a very different challenge and a very entertaining day out. Olly had put a message up on facebook saying he required volunteers to help him train for his Mountaineering and Climbing Instructor assessment. A long time ago (1996~2002?) in what feels like a previous life I had done a few years of sport climbing, mostly indoors, but with expeditions and holidays to do bolted routes in sunny places: France, Spain and Majorca, and a small bit of scary trad climbing in a few venues in Scotland. The forecast was good for Dunkeld on Thursday and since not many folk can take a day off work I let Olly know I was game.

The trouble with climbing is that it is dangerous. Mary and I stopped doing it 15~20 years ago with a sigh of regret but also relief, that neither of us had killed ourselves during maybe 5 years of adventures. It does have a high ratio of injury to enjoyment in the way that running does not. It also has quite a high ratio of terror to pleasure, compared to, for instance, taking photos of butterflies.

Two things maybe contributed to us leaving the climbing world; the first being marathon training. I only started running about 1999 after putting on weight following giving up tobacco as a hobby. We were finding it difficult to put in the necessary weekly running AND climbing training. The other thing was it was my turn to pay our annual subscriptions to Alien Rock the local climbing gym (which was astronomical compared to the price of running.)

Kate and Olly at Polney Crag

I explained my situation to Olly and he loaned me helmet, harness and rock shoes for the day; all mine being long past their use-by-dates. The only use my harness has had in the last 20 years is to help secure me to tall buildings while painting exterior windows. His primary concern was safety of those in his charge. My own preparation for this day was zero. A couple of weeks back I had tried to do a chin-up on a bar that has been in our lounge doorframe since we used to do climbing. Mary and I were talking about upper body strength and I started to do a chin-up but there was all sorts or creaking and twanging noises from unused muscles so I thought it best to immediately desist. Tempted as I was to try and crank out a few in the days leading up to Terrifying Thursday I felt I'd leave it to chance and that anything else would be far too little, far too late. No point in turning up with an injury. 

The day was to start by me getting to Olly's in Marchmont for 08.15. This was realistically the scariest prospect of the day as I wasn't in the habit of early rises, but I made it, arriving promptly. We drove to Dunkeld where we met Kate, a friend of a friend of Olly's and someone neither of us had met before. She was a climber with her own gear but I was guessing not a huge amount of outdoor experience as she turned up wearing flip flops. This made the approach to the crag even more arduous as Olly wasn't sure of the route and we did an extra bit of bushwacking and climbing through steep, rocky, brambly nettly undergrowth that was really quite testing in my sturdy trail shoes. The poor girl was traumatised before we even started roping up. 

the climbers next door to us doing Kestrel Crack

belay of Kestrel Crack

Olly belays Kate up the first pitch of Anon

In fact the first climb was more pleasant than the approach we had done to get there. It was rated Diff and I was a little surprised as it felt a bit harder than that. Climbs are graded for difficulty in guide books (so you know what you are climbing before you start) and Diff and V Diff are (sometimes!) about as easy as they get. Some V Diff grades you almost feel could be done safely without a rope and protection, but this was fairly steep and you had to look for the holds. Although when you found them they were good solid decent large holds. We climbed with 2 ropes - Olly leading up, placing gear; and then Kate and myself seconding, in turn, and removing gear, one on either rope end. Each of the three climbs we did were 2 pitches, although the upper pitches on the first two, Anon (diff) and Kestrel Crack (severe) were not as full on or involving as the first pitch. We returned to the base of the crag by walking up and round to the left then scooting down on leaf litter and a steep little ravine back to our bags. For the second route I hung my trail shoes on the back of my harness as it was not a path done easily in smooth rock shoes, (that belonged to someone else). I had forgotten the joys of squeezing my feet into really tight rock shoes.

There was a group of 3 climbers next to us doing the route we were about to do. Chat and banter was exchanged. We had some lunch and then in a bit of a surprise move Kate decided one route was sufficient and headed off. In a way this turned out to be a good call as the next couple of routes were more gnarly and longer. They didn't look it when Olly walked up them expertly placing gear in less time than it took me to retrieve it. One of the largest bits - a large hex - I struggled to wiggle back out the placement. I was beginning to think the rock had closed after he placed it, I just could not turn it round to remove it. 3 weeks later I still have a small ache in my left elbow from hanging on my left arm while I tried to push, wiggle and turn the thing, eventually getting the bastard out. I'm happy to say I didn't sit on the rope at that point or any other point in the three climbs - my proudest boast of the day - although Olly kept a reassuringly firm tension at times when I was fumbling with gear. Eventually I got the hex out and met Olly at the belay. The top section was not much more than a scramble up and off the crag. And back to the start again. 

I didn't want to wimp out of doing more climbing - it was what we were there to do. But by that point I felt I had done plenty of revisiting an old pastime. I had been reminded of a lot of stuff I had forgotten - tricky and testing approach routes, sore crammed toes, the constant background vibe which although not a full jar of terror on this occasion, definitely made me pay great attention to all the safety info Olly was offering. Crags that look slabby from below but hellishly vertical, bordering on overhanging when you get halfway up. There's good stuff as well; the alpine tinkle and musical chime of hex nuts on waist belts as you descend through the woods. But the sigh of relief only comes after you get back to the car. I felt we needed to do another climb and hoped that decision wouldn't come back and bite me in the chalkbag. (Although it was my little tootsies that were getting the most punishment.)

The last climb was on a rib of rock on the right hand side of the section we'd been climbing. Twisted Rib (v diff - although I found it possibly trickier than the severe. But then I wasn't leading.) The 2 guys ahead of us were similarly an "expert" doing the leading, with a considerably less experienced seconder. The young lad had only been doing it 3 days but was remarkably unfazed by a situation I found intimidating. Olly did much to offset any worries I had by being a superb climber and really helpful instructor. I felt in absolutely safe hands. We had asked was there room at the belay for us, as the 2 ahead seemed to be taking a long time to move - perhaps in situ instruction about how to set up a belay. They said there was and Olly bounded up the rock and set up our belay. When I got up their leader was taking his time and had disappeared on a traverse out to the right before climbing round a corner that restricted all but the loudest of shouted communication. After a while the second went off and disappeared round the corner.

Olly led off and placed gear in such a way to not snag the rope on a point of overhanging rock - having seen a similar thing occur to the team in front. Unfortunately it pretty much did the same for us and when Olly got to the top he had so much trouble pulling the one rope through that he said he would belay me on just one rope till I got the other rope free. It was while waiting for my climb to get underway that I felt the least happy. When climbing you can immerse yourself in the best technique to fight any rising panic. Look at the rock around you and find the best hand and foot holds. And keep your gaze from wandering to the gaping chasm below. When paying out rope to Olly who is a long shout away and I'm standing on a lonely belay my mind has nothing better to do than whisper "look over here mate, no right down there - how many limbs do you think you'd break falling down there, three? all four and a neck? what the hell are you doing up here?"

I was very pleased when Olly gave the shout he was safe and pulled the rope up. And I removed the belay gear, moved shakily along the traverse, freed the snagged rope and it got taken up and I could just enjoy moving up the rock, looking no further than the immediate holds and the line up to where Olly was sat. I felt a great sense of achievement even if I had already come to the conclusion that I doubted there were going to be many more days cragging in my diary. There was just one small niggle. Olly had used the word abseil earlier. Apparently this climb ended a short walk from a sturdy tree round which there was a thick wire cable from which you could hang your rope and wheeeee slide happily down to the ground about 80 feet below. If I had been offered the choice I'd have walked off. But instead I was being offered a final glimpse into the jaws of death. Olly admitted abseils weren't his favourite thing but went through all the safety stuff so comprehensively that I began to feel it might work out okay after all. I have done a few abseils and know the worst bit is leaning back and out for the first few steps while every bit of natural inclination is setting off the internal fire alarms and warning bells. 

Olly went down first with a Prusik loop as back up safety. I had to wait, contemplating the view and height and my self-harming psyche, till he got to ground level and called safe. I then had to unclip my safety karabiner and clip it onto the rope. If I fell or slipped or went out of control he could tension the rope and instead of me whooshing downwards like a sack of ripe melons thrown off a cliff, he could control my descent. It's one of these moments you have to believe in the system you are a part of. This will probably be okay, get the feel of the rope going through the belay, lean back and step down a vertical cliff-face. After the first few steps it gets easier and eventually you are on the ground. Olly thought I had managed it coolly and without any fear but I was quick to let him know I found it really very alarming but was hiding it well. Maybe not alarming, and I had every confidence in the set up, his set up, but the other thing about the climbing world is the dreadful tales of when things go wrong. Because the accidents or bad decisions can result in everything from "we got off lightly" to the funeral of a friend. 

My only regret is I didn't take more photos. There were spectacular views from up there and it is really one of the more attractive crags I've climbed at. However, from a safety point of view, I thought it best to focus on the climbing and paying attention to that, rather than dicking about with a camera when I should be belaying. So the camera stayed on the ground. I should have given it to Olly and he could have got shots of an old fat bloke having a last go at terrifying himself. 

Huge thanks to Olly who was fabulous all day, kind and careful, and will make an excellent instructor. I had to pay attention to him climbing because he made it look so easy: I'd get to the same point and wonder how he tackled it. He just seemed to stroll up the rock. It was a great reminder of all the good stuff about climbing although if it were up to me the lot would be bolted. Those Europeans know how to do it right!

Olly was going in someone else's car on to The Ben to climb it the following day, and I had an hour to kill before my train home. Just time for a couple of beers then, a superb end to a glorious day. As I say I have no plans to go and buy a pair of rock shoes and a new harness but I did enjoy many aspects of the day's activities. It was a fab venue and the weather couldn't have been better. There were butterflies soaring about us as we climbed, (and not just in my tummy) and the view was, well... I was trying not to notice it too much!