Part 2 – First lead – The Roaches

It was pointed out to me that I was a bit remiss in not including a map so you could see where in the UK I was referring too.  So from now on I will progressively add to the map below.  For Part 1 the island of Anglesea sits north west of where I have marked North Wales.  In Part 2 I’ll be taking you too, as promised, the Peak District but only a small snippet of the place that has been made so infamous by the bold and fearsome gritstone routes and ethics.  While the Roaches has some bold lines it is nothing like the gritstone that you may have seen or been expecting:

With minimum of two 3hr trips a week to Mile End climbing wall I was getting strong and confident, holding my own on the competition wall and getting used to doing crux moves a lofty six meters above the deck.  During one such session John came over and said ‘you don’t get outdoors climbing do you’, and that is when it all changed.  He subsequently offered to take me out to sample real climbing, so not long after we were heading to the Roaches.  This resulted in my first climb on rock since North Wales being Maud’s Garden.  It was a V.Diff so it wasn’t too much of a challenge, but John put me on the floppy end and as such it was also my first ever lead.  After a great day at the Roaches we hit the road and the next day we climbed at Froggart Edge, which is more akin to the well-known gritstone, and you’ll see more about that place another time.  In two days we bagged fourteen routes and I led twelve of them.  Not a bad intro to the art of lead climbing and a very big thank you to John!  I returned to the Roaches often and below, only a few months after that first visit, I can be seen seconding Maud’s Garden.  As the date stamp indicates it was during the lead up to Christmas with snow on the ground:

Where I worked we had to use our own cars for site trips, so they were offering a loan to people when they needed to buy new car.  I already had wheels so brazenly asked if they would loan me the £500 on offer to buy climbing gear.  Well they say if you don’t ask you don’t get, and I got.  With that amount of money I was able to get a pretty decent rack back then, and I still have a fair chunk of it now.  At 20 years old most of it was eventually retired about four years back, and now just sits about the place, because I can’t bring myself to part with it.  There are so many reasons I have such a connection with the Roaches: popping my leading cherry; the beautiful setting; a good year round destination; when it really is too wet there are great walks; a camp spot comprising a paddock (and literally nothing else) is right next door; and a pub in walking distance with good food and a fine selection of ales.  It’s the only place for which I have got pictures hanging on the wall.  They are next to the computer and comprise two small water colour postcards, one of the Roaches and the other of Hen Cloud:

The image above shows the ridge that forms the Roaches, the main feature on the right.  To the left are the five clouds a place I didn’t explore as much partly due to having shorter routes but also because it was a fair bit harder.  The image below is the mighty Hen Could, a short walk from the Roaches and super impressive and intimidating.  This place has steep forbidding lines on rounded cracks and blank faces, which all start atop a steep incline that adds to the exposure.  That meant that not many of the people I went out with were keen to climb on Hen Cloud, so we spent most of the time on the more friendly Roaches.  Another important reason I so loved this place was the Roaches Tea House, a family run establishment owned by Mick and Kath.  They introduced me to Staffordshire oatcakes and just typing about this delicacy is making my mouth water.  I was such a regular at the Tea House that I’d take my dishes into the kitchen and do the washing up for them and was even allowed to go in after hours and make a brew.  Mick was a farmer and stone mason, he’d renovated the buildings himself using traditional techniques, and was working on a second project down the road.  That was never completed as he was struck down by cancer and Kath lost the love she had for what they had built together.  Sorry about that turn, I promise to cheer this email up from here on:

Now I mentioned this was not the gritstone mecca that many of you may have been expecting; but fear not images from that place will come in good time.  The Peak District covers 1,440km² and includes areas of gritstone, shale and limestone.  There is brilliant climbing on both the gritstone and limestone, and these routes were at the time recorded in a selection of 6 guidebooks.  One of these was dedicated to the Staffordshire gritstone.  The rock at the Roaches is a coarser grained gritstone to the places further north and tends to have more features.  It also has portions of blankness where you have to trust smears and friction holds, as shown below as Gareth follows me up Crack and Corner.  The routes on the Roaches are up to 30m long, a good length for gritstone, and that made the place popular.  There was limited parking here and often it would all be taken up unless you came early, not that it worried us when the campsite was just a short walk away:

One of the people I met at Mile End was Scott, an American stock broker living in London.  He was filthy rich but looked like a bum wearing holey baggy bottoms and he never had any cash on him.  That said he was a top person, climbed well, encouraged me heaps and was good fun to get out with.  I only remember climbing with him once at the Roaches and when we arrived he scoped the place out and set his heart on one climb.  Wombat is described as a pumpy lead and it also required some big gear, that we didn’t have.  But climbers being (mostly) good people, a couple who were keen to watch us happen to have the bigger gear we needed and offered them to us when they heard our quandary.  So off he set, but try as he might he was unable to pull through the lip of the roof.  Now Scott and I climbed together a lot at Mile End and he had a lot of faith in my ability telling me that with all my training in the Monkey Room I should be able to bag the line:

I was not so convinced but tied in regardless and set off, and… pulled through the roof and onto the wall above with relative ease, nice.  But, due to my lack of confidence I had not taken any gear with me and was left with one of two options; fall onto the gear below the roof or solo the rest of the line.  Fortunately it eased up a fair bit on the wall and I soloed on while Johnny Sad Man Solo ran to the top to give me gear for the belay.   The kind people who leant us the gear fancied a bash so I ended up belaying a number of people on second, I too then had one more bash myself because it was so good.  It’s regarded as one of the classics here and reading through more recent route descriptions I noted that they advise against putting cams behind creaky flakes under the roof.  Looking at the image above you can see where portions of the flakes have previously failed:

Being a more featured rock it does have a lot of easier lines and this made it a great place to take beginners.  That combined with the friendly feeling of the place is maybe why John had brought me here in the first place.  I brought lots of newbies here myself including friends and family members, and I got many of them to have a bash on Maud’s Garden.  When taking out beginners I would take an easier pace, so as not to burn out my climbing partners, and this sometimes resulted in the tea kit getting more of a work out than we did.  Possibly a little posed, but below Rob was pretty stuffed and if I had allowed him he probably would have had a snooze on this perfectly formed rock deck-chair:

This is the only place for which I had two copies of the guidebook, the one I took out with me and a second that was a present from my sister.  The second is the one I brought out here with me and is one of only 50 copies signed by the guidebook writer, and one of even less also signed by the peak district climbing guidebook series editor.  The second person being Geoff Milburn a close friend of my sister.  He had a garage full of guidebooks, not only wall to wall but each shelve having multiple layers.  It was like a treasure trove and if allowed to I would have camped there for a few weeks pilfering through the 6,000 plus guidebooks.  With all the time spent at the Roaches I did a full range of the routes, and got pretty familiar with them.  When no one was available to climb for the weekend I’d camp here go walking and solo the easier stuff, such as Pedestal Route below:

The next image shows a few of a lines that have stuck in my memory, starting with Saul’s Crack, which the climber is on.  Above him is the crux corner with a rounded crack and not much else, this line has spat off many a good climber and I remember mucking about at this point for ages before committing.  One day someone was struggling at this point and their belayer must have got bored and had wandered away from the crag to chat to someone at the walk track.  When the leader went for it he fell and the belayer was dragged along the ground and they met each other at the foot of the climb.  The spat that followed went on for some time, I walked away!  The next line to mention is the obvious big roof and this is the centrepiece of the upper tier of the Roaches.  There is a crazy route that tackles this roof on flakes but the one that attracts most is the Sloth.  A wide crack that has enough gear and holds to take you out at a reasonable grade, it took me a few years to muster up the courage to tackle that one:

The crag has heaps of overhangs and prows, which results in many routes having exciting exposed positions of all grades, such as Bachelor’s Route that Kate is leading below.  The climb that was my scariest lead ever was at the Roaches.  Two images above you’ll see a strange shaped flake, and in the image above you can just make it out on the far wall.  After placing gear behind this flake you need to make a rising rightward traverse up the undercut rounded prow on big rounded pockets.  Not only do all the holds comprise these rounded pockets with nothing but friction holds but they are too flared and big to take any gear, resulting in a solo.  I remember teetering up this route nervously and when I finally reached the top laying on my back, breathing deeply and not moving for what seemed like an eternity.  The route description of Kelly’s Direct simply says this route is ‘exciting’:

Another favourite line of mine but for very different reasons was Black and Tans.  It was long and had great character being interesting and sustained.  At the time I used to drink black and tan, which is a blend of a stout and ale and I likened the climb with the drink due to the layered dark and light coloured rock bands.  The Roaches has two tiers, the lower and upper.  The upper tended to have longer routes, but there were many quality lines in the lower tier too.  One of them was Elergy it always caught my eye but I never got to lead it as it seemed to scare all my climbing partners.  Then one day saw someone one on it and asked if I could jump on the rope after them, and it was as good as it looks.  I often met Johnny Sad Man Solo here and on one occasion he put up a first ascent, or so we think.  The fact that it was up the tree, which the upper branches can be seen in the image below, meant it was never recorded.  Needless to say we were not always the most sensible people at the crag and I do wonder what people thought when we did things like that:

Being located pretty central in the UK and not too far off the M6 (one of the long motorways that connect the south to the north) this was a good spot for friends from all corners of the UK to meet.  It was probably the place where we had most of our bigger social gatherings, and below Mel from the Lake District is tackling Gully Wall.  The only gear that didn’t follow me out to Australia when I moved here was my no.3&4 friends, they seemed too bulky and so they went to Mel who was probably one of the tallest people I climbed with.  It would take me about 3-4 hours to get to the Roaches from my base down south and Mel could do it in the same sort of time, as could Johnny from over east in Norfolk.  We often talked about whether to buy a place here, there are beautiful historic stone cottages dotted about the country side some of which had boulder fields and crags right next to them… but it never happened:

One the best cottages that caught our eye was a short walk from the Winking Man Pub, a place I had spent a great New Year’s Eve during one of our social get together climbs.  At the end of the night during the 5km walk back to the campground a couple of us thought it was too far and crashed for a quick nap on the side of the road.  I digress, the cottage we liked guarded the access track to Newstones and Baldstones, a place with a heap of great boulders that had routes from 4-10m.  We met the owner once, he was a strong and confident looking climber who had done just about every route in the area and there was no way he was going to even think of selling up.  We frequented this spot a fair bit and yes back then I was known to boulder.  Below I’m tackling the Elephants Ear, and we had a crack at soloing a lot of the routes here but as soon as it felt too hard we got the ropes out.  Of note back then was before the era of the ‘hermit crabs’, it wasn’t until I returned from my two years in West Africa that I notice these strange creatures with big mats strapped to their back wandering around the peaks:

As with much of the Peak District in which gritstone is found the countryside comprises rolling hills with prominent ridges that can stretch for miles.  These ridges are mostly formed by the harder wearing gritstone, while over (geological) time the softer formations in the valleys were eroded away.  The walks we did tended to follow these ridges as they offered perfect spots to put the stove, get out of the wind (and rain) and have a play on rock.  The more isolated boulders had been sculptured by the wind into weird and wonderful shapes with rounded edges making for some scary top outs.  The valleys had some equally good spots with the creeks and rivers having created interesting gullies.  The best was Lud Church with steep rocky sides, but you had to be careful as the rock quality wasn’t that great so it was usually only me playing on those walls:

Above in an image looking from back end of Hen Cloud northwards across to Ramshaw Rocks and in the background Newstones and Baldstones.  Ramshaw was a little different in that a large percentage of the rocks were undercut on the eastern side, making for steeper lines and giving it a feeling that the rock is praying.  This was a great place to go in wet weather as it gave a bit more shelter and promised a better chance of dry rock.  Below I’m having a play on the well-known and popular Sharks Fin, and yes I’m in my sandals.  Once I was introduced to these all-weather safety shoes in Australia I could be seen, even in winter, in them.  Although you may notice that I needed that bit of extra protection and have thick woolly socks on, it’s fair to say I’ve never been one to follow fashion:

As the Roaches was such a good place to have a social I had a few leaving do’s here.  One when I was heading out to Australia for three months, another when I went to Africa for two years, then when I was moving to the Lake District to live and finally when I was moving out to Australia.  I got a bit of a reputation for being the person who was always having a leaving do, but then why waste a good opportunity to get together and climb!  For the bigger moves my family and non-climbing friends would also come along and on these times the rope would often stay on one line and I’d coach and encourage lots of people to have a go.  The place was perfect for these non-climbing friends and family events due to the Tea Rooms and it’s cottages for rent, the good pub and walking options.  Below my mam at a youthful 60 years is doing her first ever rock climb, and you’ve guessed it, on Maud’s Garden:

During the last farewell my uncle Chris came over from Holland, he is of a similar age to my mam and he loved climbing so much that he was soon soloing a few lines with me.  It was also a place that Lisa and I went to before I moved out to Australia, as well as during our first return to the UK with Elseya as a four month old.  I was a little surprised to be going back with her the second time, as the first time I had encouraged her to follow me up Easy Gully on Hen Cloud.  A great scramble that goes into the heart of the tallest bit of rock in the area before popping out the top via a small hole.  It feels sketchy at the top and she doesn’t like heights, added to that she also at one point slipped and landed in a big puddle!  She can’t however have been put off too much as she also mucked about on some other climbs, such as Prow Cracks below (note no rope) and went through the Birthing Stone.  The latter is a boulder with a hole from the top to one side that has a decent dog leg in it.  You have to squirm your way through and it is not one to try for the tall or does that may be a bit rotund:

As I proof read this email I’m not surprised that I haven’t focused only on climbing.  The Roaches and surrounds mean more to me than just climbing, it’s a place where I did a heap of walking, socialising and finding new friends.  That said it has awesome routes and was the first and last place I led a climb in the UK before moving out to Australia.  On one of our trips back to the UK we took a (big) detour to drive past the place but it was shrouded in cloud, raining heavily, surrounded by boggy access tracks deep in water and the rock looked green and uninviting.  I was a bit sad at that as I was looking forward to at least walking up Hen Could and taking in the views before warming up in the Tea Rooms.  Instead we drove on but it hasn’t dampened my memories of this place and maybe when we head back to the UK another time we will go back here and have more luck:

If you have got this far, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed the Roaches as much as I did.  In Part 3 I’ll show you the delights of my favourite coastal crag, one that has a reputation of requiring a committing abseil for access and being difficult to escape from once you’re down.