Monday, 27 February 2012



I dont know why its deinterfuckinglacing but I can't be arsed. screw you Vegas.

Thursday, 23 February 2012

not quite there

We spent another sunday at Anston one weekend but unfortunately it was just a tiny bit too wet to be able to climb properly without undeserved pings. I find these times the most frustrating as you can get by and bimble on but when you’re trying hard the scales just tip over into unusuable.  I would rather have a clear cut wash out then this to be honest because when we did eventually head to that beautful crag the Wave, dans le vallee du foundry, I had a doubt in my head that maybe I could of perservered in the damp.

In the time we were out of the inside James had a few goes on White light direct 8A+ which looked utterly beyond my comprehension, poor feet and poor hands at full extenstion, poor James. He made good progress and hopefully he’s done it now and just not told me yet. I have some footage from his Vanilla Sky send a few weeks back that I can put up once I have time.

Jo had done the 7A+ Berretta since my last trip so gave me some advice on the end. By using this and working my own bunched cross over for the mid way point I can do it in overlapping halfs. As far as bumscraping traverses go I quite enjoy this one, just don’t look down, the last big throw and thumb sprag ear being the highlights. The crimps on this problem were suffering badly with the humidity and I took an impressive spine first lob from the top move on more than one occasion. Im glad I have a pedigree in falling over in my skates as these tumbles don’t affect me much (they do later though, when im alone in the shower, crying)

I had last weekend free and both days pencilled in for rock action, however lady luck spat on my rose tinted glasses and it rained Saturday. Steve had nearly died at our house two days previosly in some form of fevour so was still completely quadraspazzed needing a lifeglug. He gave me a lift to the works and after meeting the annoyingly good Johnny and Gav climbed the new comp well set. Which is too hard and just too comp wall, y’know? Needless to say I sucked a fat one and went home. That evening had dinner with my dad for his birthday at the York in Broomhill and met his hypnotist girlfriend, he made her fall asleep at the table, im not sure I believe it as to me its like WWF wrestling, a slightly strange inclusive lie.

Sunday looked like a perfect Grit day and I was excited so shunned an offer by Chris Barr to go to anston and headed off with Joble to the west side! Jo wanted to do the 7A Too drunk at the Roaches and it after warming up we wandered over. It was bloody hot and the grit felt minging, still Jo nearly nearly did it but couldn’t keep her heel from popping off which led to a knackering cut-loose. James flashed this and did the 6C+ to the right in his trainers (naughty boy). We quite litterally hot footed it over to ramshaw where my dreams of grit evapourated trying a stupid bloody shit pointless sit start to an otherwise great right to left traverse under tierdrop. I had it and apart fom an enjoyable slope up Ossie’s Bulge cut my losses. James flashed tierdrop from sit and my camera ran out of battery as he did the heroic last move, I cant prove it but I blame the grit for this event as well. On the way home we went to the Gibb tor  and tried the 7A arete Stall. No exaggeration needed I think this problem is 7B or above, lovely arete but so very technical and hard to get established. All three of us felt a bit disheartened from the Grit so on the way home (actually we drove back on ourselves!) we went to Raven Tor which was dry and beautiful. Not long now you savage bastion of strength and I’ll be back again, safely suffering the delights of limestone stockholme syndrome.


Monday, 6 February 2012

Winter. winturgh. wintargh,

Jo applying a heel to the lime.
Over the past weeks I have not enjoyed winter. I don't like the faff of moving around in the cold with more clothes and seemingly more equipment. When I think about it I know lime trad/sport in summer has relatively more stuff to lug but everything feels lighter, especially my attitude to the day. It just feels like grit is brilliant for intensely short periods and the rest of the time is spent chasing 'that' day when everything was great and it felt like velcro (Jan'11). It doesn't take much to encourage Joble onto the lime so last Sunday we shunned convention and went to Anstons (new crag tick).

Chris at full stretch on the 7B+ which name escapes me

 It is a lovely wooded area with that dank smell associated with lime dales, complete with luminous bluey-green stream running through it. This type of lime is smoother and seems to hold more water worn pockets, a joy to climb. It felt great to be moving around in solid comfort knowing that I would be defeated at the end of the day by tiredness not lack of skin. James popped off 'Dark Beta' and with fist tapping momentum Barrows swung left, taking part in Lime in January really is a 'Dark Art'. Jo and I climbed a 7a on the Ebola buttress with a thin ear to a pockety finale with Jo foregoing a last pocket and giving it a royal big one to the jug, strong.

Happy Barrows.

A week past where I took job risks and this Saturday I chanced upon a grit hit to Cratcliffe with Lock, Bob and one smoking Chris Barr. It was, how you say, FUCKING FREEZING, the Grit was well sticky like but I couldn't move and gladly the feeling was mutual (though it could of been lovely and Bob would have still tried to sabotage the day with chalk penis/mud/sexual intimidation) Did manage to pop off a beautiful arete named 'Braindead' after a Chris Barr sweet talk. We then headed to the foundry which made me feel predictably weak, the wave is pure, man.

these two tracks are really good.