Scotland offers an amazing wilderness playground on an island that at times felt way to populated.  Unfortunately it was a long way from most of the places I lived and as such I didn’t get to it much.  Most of my time in Scotland was while on my deadly treadly in my youth.  I have tackled the mountainous paths on two wheels on two occasions, once we had glorious sun the whole time and the other drenching torrential rain hammered down on us the whole time.  It is a land of contrasts and very rugged beauty.  When I finally made it here to climb I didn’t go to the east coast where I had cycled before but the west coast.  From my home near London the two places I have climbed were a 10 and 13hr car trip, a long way but I’m so pleased I made the effort at least a couple of times:

On the first trip I teamed up with Andy.  Well truth be told he had moved to Glasgow and as such I drove up to his and then we took his car up to the Isle of Skye.  In those days you had to use a ferry to get to this mystical island; we arrived in the dark and set up camp in a pine forest off the side of the road.  We didn’t have much of an idea of what we wanted to do other than some big not too crazy mountain routes.  In the morning it wasn’t looking the best but we picked what was regarded as a long classic line and went for it.  The climbing was never too hard and we worked our way up pitch after pitch, but the weather was closing in and Andy wasn’t too keen to keep going.  So we had to reverse the route.  I was pretty comfy with it so belayed him as he down-climbed and I went next with the rope below me.  On one pitch there was a steep wall he was not keen to down climb so I anchored myself in and tensioned up to lower him, all went well until a couple of pieces popped.  An almost perfect rectangular block the size of a small freezer slid out from the wall behind me.  It went down the slab I was on and then tipped over the edge.  My heart stopped and I kept screaming out to see if Andy was OK, and fortunately he was physically untouched, but I think mentally scarred for life.  We eventually got down and headed out for food and a much needed pint.  We both agreed that there was no way of knowing what happened would happen, but damn it was a scary moment:

Needleless to say we didn’t go back into the big hills, but Andy was keen to get onto some rock so we found some obscure crag/ridge and did a couple of lines on it.  The two crack lines set back from the far left edge of the pillar above yielded, creating The Freezer, aptly named after our experience, and Krishando.  Some years later I discovered that the two lines had made it into the new Isle of Skye guidebook and as such they were my first recorded FA.  That said they were a tad obscure and I cannot find mention of them on Google.  My next trip to this wilderness wonderland was some years later with Gareth, his work colleague Terry and his son.  This time we drove onto the island via a bridge, the construction of which created some heated debate due to some wanting to keep the Isle as an Isle.  We arrived in daylight and in glorious sunshine, the forecast was looking good and we were hopefully that we would achieved what we came here to do:

Late that afternoon we were packed up and walking in, it was a 6hrs hike up into the mountains.  Our destination was Castelle, from where in the morning we would start the 12km ridge walk along this mighty range.  It has 22 peaks, lots of grade 3 scrambling and a couple of serve grade rock pitches, and we had allowed ourselves a slow three days / two nights pace on the hill so carried with us plenty of provisions the heaviest being water.  The Cuillin Ridge is the Holy Grail of British scrambling ridges and is highly regarded but at the same time not to be taken likely.  Over the entire length there is a need to tackle 4000m of ascent and descent so you need to be up for the challenge, and we were!  We found a good bivvy site and set up camp, ate dinner watching the sun go down over the ocean with a beautiful clear sky above.  The stars came out and created an amazing sight, as the temperature dropped quickly.  We tucked ourselves into our sleeping bags early:

I’d bought a Gore-Tex bivvy bag especially for this trip, being single and having a relatively cheap lifestyle I could afford to buy a few toys.  I was very grateful that I had as being breathable I was nice and cosy and more importantly dry in the morning.  The others hadn’t fared so well having used plastic in which condensation had soaked their sleeping bags.  This was made worse by the sight we saw… not much.  The cloud was in but we stay optimistic that is was the early morning mist that would lift soon.  We had a brew to warm up and a bite to eat before shouldering our packs.  We could see far enough ahead to know we were going the right way but the cloud soon thickened up and then drizzle started to fall.  Despite having a map to guide and our trusty compasses, we soon hit a snag.  We had not realised that the volcanic rock of the Cuillin was famous for its compass-baffling qualities.  So with the cloud in and visibility declining, route finding became hard work, slow and dangerous.  The ridge has many spurs and some drop away very quickly, and in the wet conditions we had to tread carefully:

With wet rock the scrambles became tricky and we had to rope up more often than we expected slowing us down even more.  At each scramble and face we had to check and double check what we were doing.  Soon Terry and his son started to get impatient with Gareth and I, as we wanting to make sure we were not going off track and being safe.  They started to walk ahead before we broke each belay and then wouldn’t keep check of where we were.  This meant that we were often getting spilt up.  While I have been known as a bit of a larrikin on the crag, in situations like this I would become serious and intolerant of what I regarded as stupidity.  Several times words were had that we had to keep each other in sight, and it would last for a while and then be forgotten about again:

By late morning there was no sign of the cloud clearing and we holed up in a cave to have some food.  Gareth and I had a quiet chat about our thoughts and were becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the situation, visibility was down to tens of meters and often we hit a dead-end and had to backtrack.  We pretty well made the decision for the group that it was not sensible to carry on and we were best to bail at the earliest opportunity, i.e. when we found a good gully to escape down.  Terry and his son were not keen but we stood our ground and eventually they conceded that even if we kept going we may not have enough provisions at the pace we were going.  So we agreed and soon found a gully and tentatively made our way down:

After a short decent the visibility cleared and we could see the gully was safe to go down.  Once we could see it was safe I took advantage of my scree skiing practise with Bob in the Lakes, and motored down jumping from rock to rock and making use of the scree slopes with small rocks.  I left the others behind and then got a great view of them making their way down the massive scree slope with a thick blanket of cloud above them.  The temperature felt like it sky rocketed when we were out of the cloud, there was no rain falling and it even seemed that some bright patches were forming.  Before we did anything else the stove was on and a brew was made:

After warming up and referring to the guide we sussed out where we were and also where we might find a crag to play on.  We made our way towards Sron na Ciche, it involved a fair bit of scrambling across gullies one of which had recently saw a big rock fall.  There was water running underneath blocks and fresh mud all across it, so we carefully one by one picked our way across it.  Occasionally large bone breaking blocks would shift without warning and these often supported huge car and house sized blocks that seemed to be teetering on the edge, defying gravity.  It was pretty stupid to have crossed that gully and when we eventually got back down to camp warning signs were saying that the area had been closed off, not surprising really.  Eventually we made it to the crag, watching the sky the whole time to see if the cloud was going to lift but it didn’t until mid-afternoon:

At the crag we didn’t set our sights high and climbed a couple of fun clean 60m slab routes, above Terry’s son is climbing one of the early classics on the crag called Arrow Route.  The rock was dry and in perfect condition and all was forgiven from the mornings escapades.  I then jumped on Cioch Slab Direct and enjoyed it immensely.  On top of the crag I set up a belay and allowed the other to follow up.  It wasn’t until the first had followed me up that I realised I hadn’t actually tied in, I’d set everything up but hadn’t tied in!  I quickly resolved that and thankfully there were no accidents or falls.  Finally the skies were starting to clear but by then after a long day it was time for us to start our decent.  Not however before we scrambled on top of the Cioch.  This boulder was made famous in the film Highlander, when Connor was training in the art of sword work with the Highlander:

The next day the cloud had once more set in on the Cuillin, but despite that Terry and his son wanted to go back up from a different approach.  Gareth and I were not convinced and instead we went to check out some of the island, starting with a hike up to Totternish Ridge where the Old Man of Stoer resides.  The old man is the pinnacle on the right and looks pretty impressive, it even has climbs on it but the rock is a shaly pile of choss and after the day before we decided to enjoy the scenery and not be silly enough to pull the gear out.  As we trudged up the slopes to get below the ridge there were a few boggy sections.  At one there were some steeping stones that a large group of school kids were using, as they were coming down.  With wet boots I didn’t care and walked through the bog only to realise that the school group stopped to watch us and then noticing that they were being led by none other than Cess.  We had a chat but he couldn’t stop so we left him with the kids while we hiked upwards and had the place to ourselves:

We then made our way along the coast for a bit, there was a crag we had spied in the book that looked good and we made our way in that direction.  The coastline was impressive with steep sheer faces falling into a calm ocean below.  There were many great looking crags but we were not in the mood for hard stuff and so passed them by including this amazing looking cliff made up of hexagonal dolerite columns.  Kilt Crag had some easier lines on there but mostly they were extreme and the guide indicated they were treacherous in the wet.  We kept our sensible heads on and didn’t get drawn in:

We made it to Flodigarry eventually only to find that we hadn’t carried in the rap rope.  It was my bad so I ran back to the car to get the rope while Gareth had the place for close to an hour to take in all in and scope the lines we should do.  On my return he was ready and keen, the rap rope got thrown down and we made our way down the water’s edge.  One thing was for sure and that was my legs were getting a serious work out on this trip.  The rock was awesome, dry and super grippy and our hopes were high as we established the belay for the first route.  We managed two rope stretching 50m climbs up this really good crag Spantastic followed by Lucy In The Sky:

The guide reckoned that the first route we tackled may be the only climb with a weight limit.  It ascended the column that was held up by a relatively narrow base.  It felt good to be climbing by the ocean and with a narrow inlet leading to the open ocean the waves crested up and occasional crash below our feet.  A very exhilarating situation and made us both think of our time on A Dream of White Horses and of course just about every route at Swanage.  After two very satisfying lines that were hard enough to keep us focused but not too hard, we headed back to the campsite.  Terry and his son were there, they hadn’t last long on the mighty Cuillin and seemed a little down that conditions hadn’t been better.  Gareth and I were however smiling inside from our great day out, we had made the right choice:

On the way back down south we stopped in near Ben Nevis and headed to a few small crags in the area including Pine Tree Wall.  The walk in was beautiful, lush and green with a great creek line that created several stunning waterfalls.  It was wet again, but we still got out there and then climbed The Gutter a mega three star Diff.  Each time I put my hand up to a hold above me the water that was streaming down the crack ran right into my top, needless to say we were once again soaked.  On the way out we found a small crag called Stac An Eich where Terry led Appin Groove before we broke out food and bouldering for a while before it was time to head back to the car for the long drive home.  Gareth nor I never climbed with Terry or his son again, sadly we heard that his son and a friend of his came back to the big hills and while soloing his friend slipped near the top and fell to his death.  A sobering thought:

On my next trip to the far north I did a detour into the Lakes to pick Bob up.  We had a big trip planned that was to take in the longest rock climb in the country.  That was Tower Ridge on the back end of Ben Nevis not far (relatively) from where I had climbed on the last trip.  It is historic route first climbed in 1892.  We didn’t hoick up in a day and stopped in a small village to get a pint in a pub, we asked where we could set up tent they said the footy pitch across the road.  Maybe a ploy to get us to have another beer or two and it worked.  Before we tackled the main mission we went for a walk, Bob was keen to bag a few Munros while we were in the big hills.  Munro bagging is a well-known pastime whereby people hike up as many mountains in Scotland over 3000ft, of which there are 282.  On this day we ascended Beinn Fhionnlaidh in Glen Etive at 959m.  It was a great day, a tad cool but dry and pretty well fine weather for Scotland.  However, on the way down Bob leaped and bounded his way like a true mountain goat and I managed to in my haste to keep up pull something in my thigh.  That night I didn’t sleep that well and the ache seemed to increase:

The next morning however it was a clear sky and sun was out and there was no way we were not going to go for it. We hiked in starting on the tourist path to Ben Nevis, the Pony Track (below), before veering off and working our way round the back. We worked our way upwards and my leg felt good which was a relief. It was clear and cold, so cold the batteries in my camera gave up, so you will just have to trust me that we had the place to ourselves and it was amazingly beautiful. Snow was lying about shining brightly in the sun, and there were waterfalls with crystal clear water. The climbing is never too hard, and we made the 1,600m Tower Ridge 200m longer by starting up the Douglas Boulder. Climbing alpine style we tied together and moved at the same time. We didn’t often put gear in and made good time. Enjoying the serenity of the place and I’m still amazed that we were all alone on that massive piece of rock in perfect conditions:

At the top there is a narrow ridge to get you back to the main peak, with a gap that you need to get across.  This is called Tower Gap and we roped up for this bit completely consumed in the situation until we were shaken from that place of beauty by a massive round of applause.  Across from the ridge atop the mighty Ben Nevis (at 1345m) were what seemed like hundreds of people and they had all been watching us.  We made it to the peak proper and a strange sensation came over me as we were once more immersed in a place full of people.  We didn’t stay round too long instead heading off on a ridge to do a loop walk round to the next Munro.  Bob was keen to bag a couple of peaks in one day, as well as the very classy tallest climb in UK.  After the second Munro we had a steep descent back into the valley, and then I realised that going downhill was not that pleasant so I ended up going down on my bum.  That night as soon as dusk came in we were in our tent; Scotland is not a place to be out when the midges are about:

The next day we headed for the Great Ridge, a long 400m climb/scramble that had a few more challenging parts for which we occasionally put some gear in.  We stretched the rope on every pitch and within about just over 8 pitches we were up on top of Garbh Bheinn (885m).  This mountain is a much more prominent peak than many of the Munros about but it didn’t quite make the mark slipping below the magically 3000ft by just under 100ft.  No matter we made our way down with amazing scenery all around us and feeling extremely satisfied:

One last image of the great scenery during the most successful of my three climbing trips to Scotland.  Not that we did much climbing but we bagged Munros, scrambled long epic lines, learned that on old routes the Scottish grades can mean anything, and of course savouring the awesome Tower Ridge in perfect conditions:

We will head back down south and take a short stop on the border of Wales and Britain to discover a hidden gem.  The next email will be pretty short, as I don’t have many images, but I wanted to include this spot and it didn’t quite fit with any of the other locations.

In this part we venture further north to the Lake District.  The area was made famous in the early 1800’s by the Lake Poets, a group of English poets who all lived in the Lakes.  This group of literary people were considered part of the Romantic (Literary) Movement, which is fitting for the landscape they decided to reside in.  The landscape is stunning with long valleys often occupied by long deep lakes and bounded by tall well featured ridges.  It is located on the northwest coast of England, and that added to its mountainous landform makes it the wettest part of England.  The annual rainfall on average is 2m but varies massively between 5m and 1.5m across this large National Park.  It is in fact the second largest National Park in the United Kingdom, and the most visited with approx. 16 million people dropping in each year.  Being such an expansive area you may get lost as to where I am talking about when you read through this email, and for the super keen you may need to do a bit of Googling as I discuss the various parts of the area.  I mentioned in my first email that the Lakes is considered, by some, as one of the three areas where rock climbing originally started during the last quarter of the 19th century.  In 1886 W. P. Haskett Smith ascended The Needle, the first recorded climb in the Lakes and this sparked the publicity that introduced rock climbing to the general public of Britain:

My introduction to the Lakes occurred in 1982, way before I started climbing and when I did heaps of cycle touring.  With three mates from school we embarked on an epic four week cycle trek from Land’s End to John O’Groats, taking a meandering path up the United Kingdom that took in the eastern edge of the Lakes.  We entered the Lakes via Kendal, where the famous and incredibly sweet Kendal mint cake is made, and worked our way northwards through Windermere and to Ambleside.  From Ambleside a long steep road, with inclines of up to 25%, heads east’ish to Kirkstone Pass.  This road is the scene of an annual car pull up, with permeant marks on the road to advise how far they’ve gone.  The road takes you to the highest inhabited building in Cumbria and the third highest Inn in England; the 500 plus year old Kirkstone Pass Inn.  Why is all this relevant, well it’s not really only that the Lakes was one of the places that really struck me out of all the amazing places in the United Kingdom we cycle through.  That said I was not to return for a long time, and it was Sad Man Solo that suggested we head there to climb.  So in late 1993 I found myself travelling that same road into the Lakes, this time by car.  From Ambleside we headed west to Langdale and into the heart of the Lakes, where a national campsite is located surrounded by a number of crags.  It is also right next to the a great pub called the Old Dungeon Ghyll.  As I mentioned the Lakes is known for rain, and of all the places I used to go to climb this was the one that we most often would get it wrong.  On these trips we would resort to hiking and on occasion, when there was an event close by, orienteering.  It was on one of those really wet weekends that John and I went for a big hike in the hills, during that hike we huddled behind a huge boulder shivering while our camping stove was busy heating up a brew.  Back at the camp we dumped our sacks and headed to the pub, it was heaving and the combination of wet clothes and a hot fire gave it a musty smell.  There was not a seat available, until we stumbled across two vacant seats opposite Ansley and Gillian, our luck was in.  Until we found out that the seats were taken by their respective husbands!  Mel, who I introduced during the Roaches, being one and Mick the other.  They squeezed up and invited us to join them and so began yet another great friendship, this time with way too much beer and heavy heads in the morning:

I caught up with Mel and Ansley heaps after that, and not just in the Lakes.  However, I really enjoyed the Lakes and it became a place I would make the time to get too.  The good thing about Mel was that he was keen and even on damp days we would hit the local crags unafraid of the wet rock, below I’m on the second pitch of Centipede on Raven Crag a short 10-15min walk from the pub so if the weather really came in we could easily head down for a pint.  Mel liked a drink and he could sink a lot beer!  So went many of our early climbing trips to the Lakes; Langdale offered a great location to park the car and not need to move it until we left.  We enjoyed the longer less challenging lines, and were happy to have big walk-ins and enjoy the beautiful setting.  There is a second pub in Langdale called the New Dungeon Ghyll, which is shown above, and behind it to the right is White Ghyll crag.  On one occasion Hand Jam Rob, John and I headed out to this crag.  From outside the pub the crag is not so obvious so taking the lead and not wanting to read the guide I reckoned I knew where to go.  After over an hour plus of hiking up and down scree slopes with heavy packs we were almost back at the pub.  I conceded that John was right to consult the guide, only to find out that the crag was an easy 30min walk along a mostly level path.  Deservedly so it was my round when we returned to the pub after a great day out.  On this crag we hit a number of three star VS’s including White Ghyll Wall, The Gordian Knot, Haste Not and Slip Knot.  All good clean multi-pitch slabby lines and on a day when the rock was bathed in sun.  On one of these lines when John led the second pitch that took on a roof he did his usual yo-yo thing and eventually piked out on a rope dragging deviation to avoid the move.  Rob was getting nervous watching and I kept advising him not to worry about how other people climb, as it is such a head game.  But unfortunately John’s escapades were deeply embedded in his brain and he too piked out.  A shame as the move wasn’t that bad and they both agreed after getting back on line that the holds above were jugs and if they had known that they would have gone for it.  I still encourage people to not take note of how other people climb or talk about routes and to trust in their ability, I’d like to think that most times I get it right:

On another trip John and I walked up to Gimmer Crag, it is only a 30min walk but the last section to the base is up a gruelling scree slope where for every step you took it felt like you slipped back two.  The sky was grey and darkening and rain came and went, but we were heading to a climb that John had been keen to bag: The Crack.  Regarded as yet another classic of the area and a great length at 74m this amazing looking line made use of a steep corner.  As we walked in the rescue helicopter flew by, we hoped that it was on a reconnaissance flight but we found out later there had been an accident not far from us.  Hence the general mood in the pub that night was less joyful.  The weather and chopper did not put Johnny in the best of mindsets and he started to wain a bit as we approached the crag.  I stayed positive and racked up to take first lead, making it to the stance and getting ready to belay him up.  But it was not to be, I looked down and he was no longer keen.  I took a few last looks up the impressive line that was begging to be climbed (or was it me begging to climb it) and came back down.  We wandered back down and went for a hike instead.  In truth I reckon I’ve done more hiking in Landgdale than climbing, and I have also drunk more beer during those trips than I have at any other climbing destination.  Despite that and the many times we were rained out we still did a lot of great routes and the place holds many fond memories:

In Mile End I bumped into other climbers keen on the Lakes and this led me to explore a bit more of this huge area, and the next place that I started to get to was Castle Rock of Triermain and Shepherds Crag.  The latter I’ll get to later but the first one really got my attention and I spent many great days at this impressive 75m crag.  It was both steep and strenuous and many lines are bold and full of exposure.  Some lines made reference to the use of creaky flakes, and I remember tentatively testing them before having to commit full weight to them in dauntingly exposed positions.  Sadly I hear that the north crag has been subject to rockfall and it is advised not to climb here, a shame as there are/were so many great routes.  It was a place that I would often visit with Dave, a tall and heavy set man who lived in London but also owned a cottage in the Lakes.  On trips with Dave we would get a bed to sleep in, and a bountiful wine collection that seemed to reduce in size after each visit.  These trips didn’t always go to plan and on one occasion the wine led to silly games, such as the cornflake box challenge.  You had to pick the box up with your teeth while staying on your feet.  The box is cut shorter with each success until we were left with the flat top of the box on the floor, unable to statically reach it I lunged and pulled my thigh bad enough to put a stop to any climbing on that trip for me.  During another trip on the way up to Dave’s I managed to misread the road signs and hit a kerb at 70mph on the outside lane of a dual carriageway in busy traffic during heavy rain.  I have no idea how I managed to avoid all the other cars and get to the inside lane but I did.  Finton and a couple of other people I have forgotten the name of were a tad shaken up, but when the tow truck arrived we decided it should take us onwards to the Lakes.  I had to leave my car in the Lakes for several weeks to get repaired, and picked it up on a return trip with John.  Thinking back the Lakes in some ways was the place that we not only got rained out of most but was also where most incidents occurred, so I’m a little surprised I kept getting drawn back:

Now I better get back to some climbing talk.  During a trip with Gareth, John and Dave we hit Castle Rock of Triermain on the first day.  I mostly climbed with Dave and we aimed for some higher grades and set our sights on the E, for Extreme, routes.  Another climber from Mile End, Cess, often went out with Dave and they aspired to lead E grades but didn’t usually get to them so Dave was super encouraging when I was feeling good.  He was keen to be able to bag Cess out about all the great E lines he had been on.  On a side story about Cess; during a climbing trip to the famous Scottish sea stack called the Old Man of Hoy he left his entire rack of friends atop the stack and didn’t realise until he got back home in London.  I led a number of great climbs at Castle Rock on that day including Thirlmere Eliminate and Romantically Challenged.  On one climb the second pitch took a rising left traverse, which I didn’t find too hard and was enjoying so much and that I forgot to place gear.  Dave followed me up without falling but did suggest that on traverses I should be considerate of the second, oops he had a point.  On this trip however it was the second day that really sticks in my mind as one of the best days out.  Dave took us out to Gouther Crag, in Swindale.  This crag was located in an amazing setting, and being relatively high up on a steep hill the exposure was awesome.  The well featured Rhyolite rock offered great sustained lines.  Below Dave is leading the very fine Kennel Wall, but there were two lines that really caught my eye.  One of them I didn’t end up trying, One Step Beyond, which at E4 (a grade I never did attempt) I just didn’t have the gumption to try:

The other one that caught my eye and I did jump on was Blood Hound, a true classic line.  Direct, clean, technical and damn run out.  There really wasn’t anything else to put in and the first 10m or so was a solo, and as I inched my way up Dave kept asking if I was sure there was no gear.  I reckon he was more nervous than I was.  The slabby line kept going until you had to move left to a flake at half height, and there was a peg in small crack before the move.  I pondered my choices for a very long time, part of my ethical standards were telling me not to clip the peg but I had no other gear in and was a long way off the deck.  Eventually I clipped it and made the delicate move over without incident, so in theory I could have avoided using the bolt.  Then a there was a small wire placement behind the flake that was OK, but as I had to run it out another 8m plus I’m not convinced.  Finally I reached some good cracks which gobbled up a couple of solid wires.  From here an exposed step into a corner and up the steepening wall.  While it lasted so long when climbing, this absorbing and impressive line seemed to end way too fast.  It goes down as one of the best routes I’ve ever climbed but that wasn’t the end of the day by any means:

Dave was eager to maximise his chances of bagging more E grades while I was in good form so we moved to Truss Buttress, another crag in the same area.  Castration Crack was the hardest climb I attempted in the UK at E3 6a, the crack narrows up the higher you get on this steep face with the holds getting pretty small.  It only gets two stars but the description indicates it is worthy of three stars if in condition, which it was on the day we were there.  With each move I slotted in another wire, the crack while narrow could gobble up so much gear if you had small wires down to RPs.  The higher I went the steeper it got and the smaller the holds got, within one move of the top and trusting RPs below me something gave way and I slipped.  Damn… I jumped back on quickly and pulled the final fierce move to gain the slabby final face above.  Dave followed me on this one and took a few rests along the way.  Having not fully tensioned the belay back to the anchors, I felt like my harness was going to slice through my waist as Dave rested his 14 stone frame on the rope.  Another lesson learnt, tension the belay every time.  It was a shame we didn’t attempted this line earlier in the day rather than last, but regardless it was a ripper and looking back still ranks highly amongst the gazillion of classic lines I’ve climbed:

I learnt a lot in terms of good climbing practise and technique from people like Dave and Cess.  They had a heap of cragging and alpine experience, so I was always grateful to be able to get out with them and pick up more tips.  I probably also based a lot of my own ethics on their approach to ground up climbing, a preference for trad, rope work and (most times) a high regard for safety.  This particular trip to the Lakes was a three day one and on the third and last day Gareth, John and I went off to explore yet another, for us, new crag.  We went for Black Crag in Borrowdale, reputed to be one of the finest crags in Borrowdale and with a host of good looking lines up to 100m – perfect.  Climbing with three on a multi-pitch can be slow work and so we only climbed a couple of routes here on this occasion.  It was also biting cold so while we huddled on each belay ledge our teeth were chattering and hands shaking.  Jubilee Grooves was an awesome line with four direct pitches going straight up, the first three of which being pretty consistent and sustained.  Below Gareth is making the slight left traverse before heading up one of the crux groves on pitch 3.  As Johnny and I sat below a small roof watching the rope feed out we heard grumblings from above.  Gareth’s hands were so cold that he was not able to control them so well, and then it rained… wires!  He managed to drop half the wires one by one as they slipped out of his grasp.  I’m pleased to say he managed to climb the pitch and also linked in the final pitch.  When we got back down and wandered to our packs we amazingly found all the wires had fallen within a 5m radius of bags:

For nine months of my working life I commuted to London spending anywhere from 3 to 5 hrs a day on trains and tubes.  The length  depended on the connection times, and inevitable delays due to things like (I kid you not) leaves on the tracks, the wrong type of rain, etc.  During this time I wrangled a deal to gain me a three months paid holiday to Australia, which I returned from in the second half of 94’.  On my return I struggled with my previous ‘professional’ lifestyle so I looked for a change and ended up moving and working in the Lakes.  I lived on the west coast in a small village called Moresby Parks, just on the outskirts of Whitehaven.  It was a beautiful time to be there with a white winter, followed by a glorious sunny and very dry summer.  My previous weekend visits to the Lakes were spent on the eastern side due to the easier access and to keep the travel time from down south to a reasonable 5-6hrs.  So when I moved to the west coast it provided the perfect chance to explore areas that I had not been to yet.  Each morning I’d drive to work in a town called Wokington, on the way out it would mean going downhill while, on clear days, taking in a view of Scotland across sea.  During winter the snow covered peaks were clearly visible.  Then coming home I’d see the snow-capped peaks of the Lakes, I had made a good choice.  Just a short 15min drive from home I could get to a lake called Ennerdale Water for great walks (see below), St Bee’s (which will get mentioned later), and Egremont which had a fun indoor climbing wall.  The latter was a good place to meet other climbers and there I bumped into the two people that I spent most of my time climbing with, Bob and Gary.  For those that have climbed with me, I bought a 20m indoor lead rope at this wall: So if you remember using a short light pink/purple rope of mine you now know that I bought it way back in 1994!  You’ll be pleased to know that I officially retired that rope a couple of years back after some 20 years of good service:

While having all the magnificent Lake crags on my doorstep there was a second evening option and that was to climb at St. Bees Head.  This westerly facing soft sandstone crag is protected from the ocean by a sandstone shelf, and being west facing is bathed in the evening sunlight.  A perfect place to go and unwind, climb and watch the sunset.  The cliffs are owned by the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds, and with the seasonal ban in place when I arrived it was not until later in the year after July that I got to explore them.  Being soft sandstone they are fully bolted, but due to the awesome setting I accepted that and usually headed there with Gary.  To get to the cliffs you had to cross private land and on occasion the sheep, more so during lambing, were not feeling that friendly and might chase us across the paddock before we could make the steep scramble down to the base of the cliffs.  Living on the west coast also offered me easy access to Wasdale where the mighty Scafell Pike is found, the highest mountain in England at 978m.  On cold or damp days I’d go on big walks, and the image below being taken from the saddle that separates Wasdale from Thirlmere to the east.  In this view, looking west, you can just see the end of the lake called Wast Water which you have to drive past to get into Wasdale.  Many a time I would see divers preparing to enter this lake, you may ask why anyone would dive in this freezing water but it is the deepest lake in England, 79m deep so a great training ground that has at time proved fatal:

I have to admit surprise that in my nine months of living in the Lakes not many people came to visit and climb.  I guess it just went to show that for many of the people I climbed with I was the main driving force for many of our longer excursions, excuse the pun!  During my time in the Lakes I still drove out to climb in other locations so I got to catch up with the usual crew.  On a weekend when Gary or Bob wouldn’t be available and I didn’t feel like going too far I’d pick a random spot, walk up to the crags in the area and solo the easy classics.  At times I’d get myself into a sticky spot but always managed to come out unscathed, sometimes backing off and when that wasn’t a safe option gritting my teeth and going for it.  It is amazing how many crags there were to visit and I rarely returned to the same spot.  One hike I did attempt a number of times was the horseshoe walk from Wasdale head, up to the saddle and then following the ridge to the south/west back to Red Pike (the peak on the right in the image above).  It took three attempts before I completed that walk, as on two occasions I got caught out in a whiteout and it seemed too dangerous to go for it.  Below Mike joined me for attempt number two and as we were crossing Wind Gap the clouds came in and we decide to look for an escape gully.  The time I did complete the walk was with my mam in the last month of my stay in the Lakes.  I needed to clean up the garden and she offered to help, I’d let it go wild and the grass was thigh high.  We managed to tidy the garden up with the help of Bob’s lawn mower that we subsequently burnt out.  When I explained what we had done he said not to worry as it was under warranty and he could get it replaced – but whether he did I never found out.  On the second day of my mam’s visit we went on this walk, and the approx. 12 mile walk was awesome.  The clouds came in but also cleared at the right times, and to boot it was the first time my mam had walked in the clouds so she was thrilled.  The last decline down Red Pike was pretty steep, loose and hairy and by the time we got back to the head of Wasdale pass we felt like we deserved a pint in the Wasdale Head Inn:

The further north you go in the United Kingdom the longer and shorter the summer and winter days get, respectively.  In summer the light would not fade until past 10pm, and Bob and I had a system going whereby we would on occasion pick a climb and meet after work to head out there.  We would set our sights on usually only a few climbs, and for those crags that required a longer walk-in possibly only one.  Bob was eager to seek out routes established by some of the early Lake pioneers, especially Bill Peascod (we eventually got onto his most famous route but you’ll have to wait for that one).  During these evening trips we hit quite a few locations and climbed some mega classic  Peascod lines such as Sinister Groves and Cleopatra at Honister Pass.  However, the evening trek that sticks in my mind the most was when we tackled Engineer’s Slabs a classic three pitch line that ends up a smooth V groove.  I thought it was a Peascod route but Google is unable to verify that for me, and I no longer have the guide book for that area (in the 90’s there were six guide book for the Lakes).  The route we had our sights set on is located on Gable Crag, which is an hour and half walk-in.  Bob was coming up the penultimate pitch, as I took the following image of the sun setting over Ennerdale.  He still had that epic finale pitch to go up the almost featureless walls of the V groove with the light fading and our head torches safely stored in our packs at the base of the crag (oops).  He made it with the biggest ear to ear grin and belayed me up, as the darkness really took hold.  We were pleased for the head torches on the walk back out, but unfortunately on this occasion we didn’t make it back to a pub for a celebratory beer as we would usually attempt to do.  No matter the climb was everything it was hyped up to be and more:

I managed to convince a few other people to get out there in the evenings and also introduced a few of the people I worked with to climbing, but it didn’t stick with any of them.  The more populated towns of the Lakes, and probably more so the west coast, seemed to me to be a place that bred blokes who played rugby and drank beer (a combination that would often end nastily in the pubs of Whitehaven on a weekend night).  I played hockey before moving to the Lakes, but you wouldn’t dare mention that while in a bar, well at least not back then.  Below Siddle, from work, is being introduced to climbing as he followed me up Ardus at Shepherds Crag.  This was a crag that I went back to numerous times and loved.  This 50m hugely popular crag was very accessible and boasted many classics up to a reasonable standard.  It also had heaps of very fine low to mid-grade lines and as such was a brilliant place to take beginners, such as Siddle and Mike(mentioned above and in the Peaks).  Looking back I have climbed a fair portion of the routes here and many of them seem to have gained a good number of stars since the guide book I have got (1990) was published.  There was a test piece at this crag called M.G.C which I never attempted but Gary did and he took a ground fall of it, which I’ll come back to in due course.  Another great attraction of this crag was the very quaint café located in a narrow stone walled room that resembles a barn.  It was traditional, no it was obligatory, to have a cuppa and some cake there after a climb here.  On a fine evening the seats outside were elevated in the landscape enough to allow glorious views down the valley across Derwent Water:

In addition to the evening climbs I also got out with Bob for big days.  On some weekends Bob and his family, Mary, Hazel and Jenny would go camping.  I’d rock up for a day and drag Bob away from them.  When I got to their VW camper Hazel and Jenny would poke their heads out from the top bunk to say hello before we would set off.  Unafraid of walk-ins and keen to climb classics we would often find ourselves trudging in a pack a bit heavier than usual carrying food and drink enough to sustain us for a long day.  Below is the final scree slope before getting to the base of DoW Crag near Coniston, this one had an hour walk-in which was considered a relatively quick access for a Lake’s mountain crag.  The 100m Rhyolite buttress offered many quality lines in yet another remote setting.  While the Lakes has on offer sedimentary, igneous and limestone formations.  I mostly climbed on the igneous rock, sometimes on the sandstone and never on the limestone.  On this occasion Jenny decided to join us, and brought with her a sketch pad and pencils.  For some reason I didn’t start well and backed off when attempting, from memory, Leopard’s Crawl.  My head needed re-adjusting so Bob suggested a classic Diff.  Jenny put her sketch pad down and the three of us went up ‘C’ Ordinary Route.  It was such fun and I came down refreshed and mentally reset:

Here is Jenny coming up ‘C’ Ordinary Route, and she managed the whole route amazingly well.  After the one climb (noting it was 100m long) she had enough and went back to her sketch pad.  I may be mistaken but think I then didn’t crawl but practically sprinted up Leopard’s Crawl, and I’m sure the next line we jumped on was Pink Panther.  This line was somewhat harder than what Bob and I would normally go for but it looked good.  The first pitch was a left rising traverse and I remember Bob being a tad concerned that I didn’t put much gear in.  I am sure there wasn’t much to find but maybe my mind had been reset a little too far in the opposite direction.  Next up was the crux pitch, a short right rising traverse to the base of a overhung crack.  I placed some gear and then had to crank fiercely to get my feet up and work into a stance to get established and continue up the steep crack above.  It was tough and awesome and I was feeling good, what a move and what a line.  Bob followed me up cleanly and I wonder why we didn’t push the grades a bit more, probably because there was no need with oodles of classics at a far more relaxed pace to be found:

Bob is leading one of the pitches of Eliminate ‘C’ below, and you’ll note the sling he placed at his feet.  His rack was pretty old and he had rigid friends and the originally stoppers, I’ve still got the one he gave me to complement my one and only stopper that I found as crag booty in Cornwall.  Bob loved to place slings and I reckon that is why I too am keen on them even now.  We didn’t wait till darkness descended on us on this trip, as with had Jenny with us but still managed to reach our 1,000ft of climbing in.  When we had a day out the grades of the climb didn’t matter but we would try and climb a minimum of a 1,000ft, it just seemed a good round number and most times we managed it.  On one occasion we got to the crag, I forget which one now, and Bob had forgotten his sticky boots.  He climbed in walking boots and kept up with me the whole day.  Another reason for remembering that day was that on one route there was a brand spanking new flexible friend at one of the belay ledges.  Still in the crack and in no way stuck.  Seeing there was no else at the crag it was a great bit of crag booty:

Gary too did not have a hankering for bagging grades and when we went out he was happy to enjoy just being there as much as the climbing.  He was relatively newly married and a tradesman so worked long hours and wasn’t as often free to climb, and as such I would be led by his pace.  He loved the Lake’s and had an amazing eye for detail.  We could be walking past a clump of trees and he’d see a nest buried deep in the vegetation, and he hated nothing more than finding litter well maybe he hated finding someone who was littering.  Our days out would often consist of hikes and longer classics.  On this day we headed to Raven Crag in Combe Ghyll, a great crag reaching close to 200m in places.  We climbed a number of good lines here and below he is on pitch 6, the hand traverse, of the extremely popular 1950 classic Corvus.  It’s a route that I had previously solo’d and at that time after topping out I walked across the valley and entered the dark chimney to the left of what is Doves’ Nest crag.  I managed to hike, scramble and climb out the back of this chimney but it was the one time that I thought I might have pushed my luck that bit too far.  Climbing out of the chimney on slopey wet rock with a big drop into the dark crevices below was frightening:

On some occasions we would find a more challenging crag and below if the view of Derwent Water in Borrowdale from the top of Gowder Crag.  This crag was great fun it looked steep and imposing as you approached but yielded to a number of fine mid-grade routes and the best of the pick on that day was Fool’s Paradise and Kaleidoscope.  It was such a rarity in the Lakes for us to climb single pitch climbs (like at Gouther Crag) and most routes I did had a minimum of two pitches.  Long routes became the norm and a 100m crag was not uncommon, these long routes allowed you to get into ‘the zone’.  While the routes were so good I’m surprised to find many of my images are in fact of the surrounding scenery than the climbs themselves.  It is easy to see why this place (in part) inspired the Romantic (Literary) Movement by the Lake Poets.  Just a bit further along the valley shown below is Falcon Crag, and this crag required a bit more respect when we ventured there.  I remember feeling intimidated by the steep black walls looming above us.  It is also the only place in the Lakes that I remember feeling insecure on lead, the climb name has escapes me now and I reckon my brain has suppressed those memories:

I was so taken by Gouther Crag that I took Gary there, we repeated a few lines and added more to my tally of routes.  I never got into the habit of using my guidebooks as a record, and in some ways I feel it is a shame that I didn’t keep track of the all the routes I have climbed.  While it may seem that I can remember a lot of them there are far more that I can’t recall.  Below he is following me up the very fun Hindleg Crack, it has to be climbed like this and does not have a heap of gear.  For the grade of climb it provides a strenuous outing and your body knowns it has worked after you top out.  We didn’t repeat Bloodhound, it didn’t jump out at Gary and I didn’t want to ruin the perfect moment I had on it the first time round.  My main reason for including this image was not to revisit the crag for any particular reason but just because I liked the image:

Now here is a climb that I said I would get too.  It has to be one of Peascod’s greatest achievements before he, funnily enough, moved out to Australia in 1952.  I have just been reading up on this great pioneer I found the following recount that I thought was gold: Peascod was from the school of climbing where any form of belaying was unreliable. He and his generation operated on a simple principle known as the Tiger’s Rule: ‘The rule was simple. Never fall off and I never did; well, hardly ever did,’ he recalled when in his early 60s.  I also noticed that Peascod helped establish some of the early climbs in the Warrumbungles in NSW Australia, which is high on my wish list of places to climb… one day.  Back in the Lakes and Eagle Crag is a proud 150m buttress that stand out amongst the scree slopes above lake Buttermere.  The line Bob was keen to jump on was Eagle Front, climbed in 1940 it tackles the front and steepest part of the crag and is surrounded by daunting classic E grades.  The route meanders a bit to be able to get up this impressive crag at its mid-range grade, but despite that out of the eight pitches a good number are surprisingly consistent and all are on solid rock.  Bob is following me up the great corner crack on pitch 7 as we near the top:

After such a great climb you would think we could retire to a pub for a beer, but why stop there so we scree skied back to our packs and then scrambled across to Grey Crag.  This crag is more of a series of crags upon crags and the image of it provided is taken from the top of Eagle Crag.  Bob and I picked a series of climbs that wove from the lowest point to the top, this time climbing with packs on.  Hooking up three routes got us to the top and it was pretty easy to see how we could tally up a 1,000ft of climbing in a day.  With still more light in the day we shouldered our packs and walked across to High Stile and then onto Red Pike (not the same as the one previously mentioned) before descending back to the base of the valley.  On this trek the many walk paths could be seen zig-zagging up the steeper inclines and the impact of all the hikers was pretty scary.  In fact erosion under the footfalls of tens if not hundreds of thousands of feet that plod up and down these hills every year is a massive risk to the area:

While I lived in the Lakes Tim and Finton caught a train up from London and the next day we jumped in my car and headed out to Ireland.  While that is another story, on that trip I had my most serious fall and didn’t climb for a while.  This occurred around the same time Gary took his worst fall to date, off M.G.C. at Shepherds Crag (mentioned earlier).  So on my return from Ireland we both had dented bodies and lacked motivation.  We decided that there was only one way to sort this out and that was to find a classic two pitch climb that would put us both back on the horse.  We trawled through the guide books and plumped for Triemain Eliminate on Castle Rock of Triermain.  At E2 5a, 5b we thought it was perfect as it wasn’t too namby-pamby and would make us focus and just get on with it.  Gary drew the short straw so he kicked off the proceedings, moving well and not faltering once.  Inspired by his lead I set off and while starting shakily soon got into the groove.  Just in time as it was then my turn to lead and loved it, the memories of that 60ft fall being pushed into the darkest recess of my mind.  It was the perfect tonic, on the perfect route, and as can be seen on a perfect day:

On one occasion sometime after I went out with Gary and his mate Sean.  Gary had not climbed as much or hard for a while and had instead started fell running.  They had plumped for a small crag called Bell Stand in Eskdale, and there I did the shortest routes I have done in the Lakes at less than 20m.  But they were by no means poor quality and we knocked off a good number of fine lines.  It was kinda funny as the 15min approach to this crag comprised a steep scree slope and these seasoned fell runners flew up this, leaving me panting my way up.  Then on the rock it was a reversal of roles.  It was yet another glorious sunny day and as I mentioned before the best summer conditions I could have had while I lived there.  Crags that had not been in condition for years were perfect and it is with some regret that I didn’t climb anything on Scafell or Pillar Rock, two epic places that really should have drawn my attention.  Still no complaints with what I did achieve and that included conquering the thin and sketchy but very cool Puzzle Book, which took all my focus with its technical bridging and the need to trust micro wires that didn’t always sink in as deep as I wanted:

In August 1995 my time in the Lakes was coming to an end, while I loved the area I was attempting to find work overseas.  That required a change in my current working arrangements and a move back down south.  For my last evening session with Bob we picked an absolute gem, located high up at the head of Wasdale.  However, before I get to that on a previous visit up here with Bob I attempted a route with an overhung start.  Without the guide I can’t recall the name.  It was an old route from the 40s or 50s and with all my modern day protection and sticky boots was unable to make the hugely committing start moves.  It certainly humbled me and also showed the sheer strength of mind and muscle that those old pioneers had when they ascended routes like that with hob-nailed boots and hemp ropes.  On this last evening climb we headed up to the saddle and after climbing a great line on the main crag of The Napes we then climbed The Needle, which you may remember is reputed to be the first recorded climb in the Lakes (and probably the UK).  It was truly awesome and a fitting way to end it, so with the sun sinking down we scree skied down as fast as we could to get in not one but two pints in at the Wasdale Head Inn:

My move down south didn’t directly result in me gaining overseas work, but I did eventually get a placement in Africa.  After two years out there I really struggled with getting back into the UK lifestyle, so much so that I looked to move overseas on a permanent basis – to Australia.  In that last year before I moved out I made an effort to revisit as many of the best areas as possible and that of course included the Lakes.  On one of these trips I came in via the famous Hard Knott Pass, which can become impassable in winter.  It is a steep incline from both directions and provides magnificent views of the valleys below, coming back made me nostalgic and I spent a fair but of time just driving about taking images with slide film, rather than climbing.  I did however get to climb and that included getting out with both Gary and then Bob for one last Lakes session:

Gary ‘s life was changing and he was heading off to university to reskill.  When I rocked up he was in the last stages of preparation before he too would be moving on.  He was still keen to get out for a climb or two and for our big day we wanted to get to Esk Buttress, which sits behind Scafell Pike.  I’d been here once before with Finton and had a great time, so I was keen to get there early and bag a few lines on this impressive 120m crag.  However, Gary still organising himself before the move wasn’t quite ready and had to get the bank before we set off, then we had to swing by Bob’s to pick up a second rope (as Gary’s was packed away), and then it was a fair drive to Hard Knott Pass before an hour and half walk in.  Bob was staggered when we got to his place and looked at me as if to say ‘why so late’, but what could I say other than it was what it was.  Needless to say we didn’t get as much time at the crag as I had hoped but we did climb the classic Trespasser Groove and it was great.  Lugging my pack back onto my back before the hike out it felt like a long way to come for one climb but it was still very much worth the effort:

It was only right that for my last climb I did in the Lakes I went out with Bob.  We decided on a relatively local crag called Buckbarrow which overlooks Wast Water (the deep lake that some aspire to dive in).  It was not a day for us to get our 1,000ft climbing in, but the sun was out, the rock was in prime condition, the routes were sustained and good quality – what more could you want.  We took our time and enjoyed a few lines including Last of the Summer Wine a feisty steep crack and a good climb to wrap up the tales of my fabulous times in the mighty Lakes:

I’ll continue my journey northwards in the next instalment.  A place I only venture to a few times but it is worthy of mention and will include the tallest route I have climbed.

In truth I should have made this part 3 instead of Swanage.  The reason being that this is where I really cut my leading teeth; North Wales was where it started, the Roaches was my first lead and the Peaks is where I did most of my early learning.  The reason for going out of sync was that I felt giving you back to back gritstone wasn’t the go.  Hence now we find ourselves heading back into the heart of Britain, just a bit further north where the Staffordshire gritstone can be found in the Roaches.  This email will show you the gritstone that you were probably expecting, but also a couple of the amazing limestone crags the Peaks has on offer.  The gritstone crags provide routes in the 5-25m range but mostly about 10m, while the limestone can provide rope stretching lines and even offers some multi-pitching:

You may remember that my first taste of climbing here was when John took me to Froggatt Edge for my second day of leading outdoors.  I remember hitting quite a few routes and finishing up on the hardest lead of the weekend.  The line had a loose chockstone at half height that you had to make use off.  But the name of that climb escapes me and with 445 climbs on this crag I’ve resided to not try and identify it.  Froggatt is one of many stunning edges scattered across the Peaks, which nearly all overlook valleys.  This one, after crossing the road to the south, transitions into Curbar Edge (607 climbs) and then Baslow Edge (254 climbs).  The Peaks has more climbs than you can poke a stick at and I’ve only touched on three locations so far out of a multitude of possibilities.  Unbelievably there are over 10,000 routes in the Peaks.  Back to Froggatt and you may be surprised to hear that this crag has both natural and quarried buttresses, which results in a good variety of features.  Below is Johnny Sad Man Solo during one of our last climbing trips together, and in this image he is following up The Brain:

There are a few reasons for having quarried sections.  Gritstone was the main building material for a long time, not only for houses and cattle troughs but mile upon mile of drystone walls are made from this durable stuff.  The other use for gritstone was for millstones, and in fact while worldwide from a climbers perspective it is called grit the rock is in fact referred to locally as Millstone Grit.  It comprises a compacted sandstone, finer grained and more compact than it’s Staffordshire cousin found at the Roaches.  Some may be wondering what a millstone is so… it is a circular rock that is used as a grinding stone and commonly used in old in cornmills (approx. 1.3m diameter and 0.3m deep and weighing in at a hefty ¾ of a ton!).  Quarrying for this last purpose occurred mostly along the eastern edges of the Peak District.  Millstone Edge, which I will get to later, was the major area but the remnants of quarrying can be found at Froggatt and Baslow and also Stanage.  I find it amazing that despite the wonder of seeing abandoned millstones that were not quite perfect being scattered around these areas I never thought to take any images!  I could take an image from the web, but feel like that is cheating so if you are keen to see them I’ll leave you to do that.  Below, on an early trek to Froggatt, is John belaying Rob on the fine Sunset Crack.  Hopefully the names are becoming familiar with Rob who was introduced in the Roaches, he was known to us as Hand Jam Rob.  Why the nick names, in truth just for fun:

Above Rob is doing some fancy footwork on the slabby face, and below is one of the classic slab routes at Froggatt that is a must do.  It has marginal protection and the name gives away the only features (other than friction) available.  Three Pebble Slab has, you guessed it three small protruding nodules and that is all you get to make your way nervously up this route.  One of the differences between Staffordshire and Derbyshire grit being that the latter has these nodules or pebbles and at times they are all that is available to use on the route.  When they pop the route is gone, but luckily it is a hard wearing rock.  There are numerous other classics at Froggatt but the one I want to mention is what is referenced to as a historic HVS, named Valkyrie.  First climbed in 1949 by the legendary Joe Brown this route is near the top of so many hit lists, and is a brilliant climb.  I waited some time to attempt this and when I did I savoured every move and position.  Post war there was a club that was formed called the Valkyrie Club, it was short lived but this small committed group put up many great and often hard routes including Valkyrie, a name they used for a line both at Froggatt and the Roaches.  The one at the Roaches is equally renowned but my experiences, due to trying to link the second and third pitch was less than enjoyable due to the massive rope drag despite having two ropes:

It is now time to mention the place that every climber should have on their wish list to visit, Stanage Edge.  It was not the first place that climbs are recorded on.  That was Wharncliffe in the mid-1880 and is reputed to be one of the birth places of UK rock climbing, looking back it is sadly a place I never went too.  Stanage is however the longest crag in the Peaks stretching 3.5 miles and offering some 2000 routes, and could be regarded as the most popular crag in UK.    On a day’s climb there would be hundreds of cars lined up along the road, and that was just at the popular right hand end.  Climbing here started in the 1890’s but due to access issues development was significantly restricted.  The crag was located on a private grouse moor and ‘the early pioneers of rock-climbing were forced to make secret visits or bribe the gamekeepers with barrels of beer’.  This meant that the crag was not included in the first guidebook to the Peak District that was published in 1913.  After the second world war access was opened up and the area received an onslaught.  This all started with Peter Harding’s brilliant ascent of Goliath’s Groove in 1947 (I can testify that it is an absorbing line even today) and gathered pace in the 1950’s, which is when two icon climbers of Joe Brown and not long after Don Whillans came on the scene.  The place has every style and grade of route imaginable and as such attracts climbers of all calibres, and due to the length (despite its popularity) there was always somewhere relatively quiet we could retreat too when we wanted:

Stanage Edge is where I met John, I happened to be there with Andy and was attempting a route near where John was climbing with Tom.  We got chatting and stuck together for the day, Tom by far was the more willing to push the limits with leading.  During this first meeting there was a fine but thin face climb that he had his eye on, so off he set.  The gear was marginal above a small ledge but he pushed through.  Above this he began to get nervous and eventually fell, his ankle hit the ledge as he came down making him summersault and come down head first.  He landed wedged between a large detached flake and the wall.  Our first thoughts were how lucky he was not to have split his head open, so as we de-wedged him and sat him down I put a brew on.  I still remember sometime after, John recounted how when showing Tom’s mum an image of the scene she asked what that person (me) was doing in the background, and was then aghast to find out I was making a cup of tea!  Tom never climbed again and had to use a walking aid for at least a year, due to severely damaged his knee.  I bought his harness of him and John and I used that rope for many years to come.  Despite yet another shaky experience I was not put off leading and enjoyed the thrill of runouts and exposure.  John and I teamed up regularly, mostly on trips to the Peaks and the Lake District.  The Peaks offered a great place to have a mob of people meet up and we built up a fun crew, sieging lines, bagging each other out and general loving life.  It was this crew that dished out the nick names and mine was Layback.  Below John is racked up and ready to tackle the fine Paradise Wall during one of our earlier visits to Stanage:

Climbing with John was a bit of a stop start experience, he lacked confidence on lead but was fine on second.  So at times it may take some time to build up the courage to get going and then to complete the lead but most times he got there.  Below he has just finished the traverse to the rib on Inverted V, yet another classic line on many an up and coming climbers tick list.  With long summer days and the ability to pack in so many routes in the Peaks we didn’t always have to start early, so we at times would head over to the Grindleford Station café for early morning feed.  This hugely popular café with climbers and walkers alike was always packed and offered the biggest ‘greasy joe’ breakfast meals I have ever seen at low prices, but make sure you never ever ask for mushrooms!  The owner Phil was eccentric and not someone to cross, he had put up heaps of very blunt notices all over the cafe that might offend some.  We would in our usual way have a chat and got on his good side.  During one discussion, and I have no idea how the topic came up, we talked about the milk crate challenge.  With the back of your head (not neck) on one chair and your ankles on the edge of another you have to hold a milk crate and pass it round your body without it or you touching the floor.  It was a game I used to do at university and held the record, and it intrigued Phil to the point that he wanted to challenge me.  So on my return from a long holiday to Australia he had a party going and invited us along were he sprung the challenge on me.  He told me he had been training for months and subsequently smashed me.  I have just read that Phil passed away in 2007 from a heart attack at the age of 63, which he sustained while dancing at a party (it is way he would have wanted to go):

Just up the road from the Grindleford Station café is Yarncliffe Quarry.  A sandy crag with a splattering of routes from the disgusting to the very pleasant.  We went there a few times due to its sheltered nature and proximity to food.  It is at this crag that I witnessed outdoor speed climbing for the first and only time.  A group having set up top ropes on two similar climbs on a slab were racing each other up the routes.  Interesting but not my cup of tea, instead I soloed a fair few lines here and remember Sulu as probably the scariest solo I’ve done.  As I was climbing the line someone was being given a guided tour of the routes and I heard them say that the route that guy (i.e. me) was soling is great but had the crux at the top.  It was a steep 25m line up a narrow face with a tricky and steep lower half and bold top out, when I returned a few weeks later I tried to lead it and couldn’t even get off the ground!  Back to Stanage and here I’ve just topped out on Crack and Corner, and Mike is about to follow me up.  Another highly rated route, and great for novices of which Mike was one.  The image shows how in a short distance it is easy to pick a myriad of lines up these walls.  Not all of them were as featured, but we generally stuck to the easier ground:

There is snow above and I’m sure you’ll realise by now that I climbed year round and had a few people willing to follow me out even on those crisp and cold days.  In 1995 there was one trip that sticks in my mind, I arrived at my usual haunt The Plough as darkness was falling and had a pint.  I stepped outside and snow had fallen, just a few inches but it was coming down thick and fast.  By the morning there was a solid foot of snow covering the car and we were immersed in a winter wonderland.  Before I talk more about that weekend The Plough needs a mention, it was one of the few places in the Peaks for camping at the time and on a good weekend there would be in excess of 200 tents in their massive back area.  The pub was a climbers haven, with a big log fire toasting the place up, great affordable pub food and an extensive array of beers on tap.  I got on really well with Bob & Cynthia (the owners) and had my own tankard hanging from the bar and would on occasion pop by and have a cuppa in their home.  I also got along well with all the staff and the head barman Tom will get a mention later on.  My time in the Peaks was made special not only by the climbing but the great friends I made there and The Plough was like a second home in my early climbing years, so much so I’ve named a climb after it in the SW of WA at Moses Rocks:

It was not often there would be big whiteout and when it happened so unexpectedly it felt all the more special.  On that weekend when we awoke to find everything covered in snow there was not much else to do but go walking.  We would usually go away for a weekend prepared for any weather but that said I was able to endure most stuff in my woolly hat, buffalo and baggy bottoms.  So instead of brooding in a café or pub about not getting out climbing we would along some of the tracks and ridges and then eat and drink our fill next to a roaring fire.  There was also some poly bagging to be done, the cheap version of sledging.  With not much between you and the ground this often led to bruised backs and bums when we tried it on rutted farm tracks.  We would also wander into the village of Hathersage, which The Plough is on the edge of, to go into Outside.  This climbing/outdoor shop had it all and we would browse the many wares always coming out with something we were not intending to buy, as a result weekends like this tending to get more expensive than others.  Hatherage happens to be the name of the first route in SW WA that I attempted but backed off, as I was soloing it.  Like the climb I named The Plough it is located at Moses Rocks:

Another place we once visited when the snow had fallen was Kinder Scout a moorland plateau in the north west of the Peaks.  I toyed with the idea of adding an image of that place as the peatbogs gave it a moonscape feeling but none stood out enough.  Luckily we had someone who knew it really well as the landscape looked similar everywhere you looked and there have been cases of people becoming lost and dying up there.  On that day is was wild and the snow was driven at us almost horizontally, then when we got to Kinder Falls the water was being blown back up over the drop.  The sun poked it’s head out briefly as we watched this spectacle and it was made more amazing as a rainbow formed in the water as it was driven against gravity upwards.  Back to gritstone and the following image was taken on a day that was particularly special.  It was Christmas eve and there was only one thing to do, go and climb Christmas Crack on Stanage.  It is a tradition of the area that people would come and climb this route and place Christmas cards into the crack.  The tradition was for this to happen on the big day itself but my family may have been upset if I wasn’t there so we went up the day before.  There was still a queue of people waiting to have their turn on this fine route, while all other lines were empty.  I took advantage of this and went up a few of them too, but on that day no one wanted to follow me up additional lines.  So in looking back at my images, what seemed like something normal for me I ended up soloing them, probably thinking that the snow may soften any unexpected landings.  Luckily I didn’t test the theory:

Now another one of our ragged band of merry people was Phil, or to us Phil the Flump.  Phil was a walking guidebook in the Peaks, he lived there and knew the crags like the back of his hand.  Phil could even provide advice on the type of protection climbs offered.  This was made all the more amazing with the fact that Phil hardly ever led anything and never climbed that hard.  Below you can just see Phil belaying me on Evening Wall at Burbage North.  This edge provides relatively short routes as it horseshoes round the top of Burbage Valley, the routes to the south are harder and far bolder and while we went there a few times we more often went to the northern areas.  Before I led the route below I had jumped onto Ash Tree Variations, a line that was protected by a gymnastically move which took some thinking out.  After getting up it one of the non-climbers who had tagged along that day asked to have a go and instead of admitting defeat he continually jumped up and down on the rope shouting at me to take in and then claiming he had climbed the route.  I was pretty angry watching my rope get abused like that and Phil saw it, so took me off to the side and allowed me to channel the energy into leading a few good lines.  Thanks Phil:

Phil happened to share a flat with Tom the barman from The Plough for a year or two, located in the small village of Bamford.  It sat below yet another edge not surprisingly called Bamford Edge.  Bamford Moor in which this crag is located has access restrictions due to still being used as a grouse moor, like Stanage used to, and being located on land privately owned as part of the Moscar lodge.  Restriction also apply in May and June due to being a nesting area for ring ouzels.  Another aspect that keeps many climbers away is the fact that it has predominately mid to low grade routes, there is nothing too hard.  Being not frequented means that it provides a uniquely unspoilt natural gritstone edge, better friction and no polished routes.  With awesome views down a steeper valley towards a big reservoir and rock that dries super quick, it made for a great crag.  On weekends when I stayed with Phil and Tom this would be a good place to go, not only to climb but also to just muck about on the many easier lines.  Below Rob is soloing Hypotenuse, relatively new to climbing this was a good place to get his head into gear and we spent some fun afternoons pushing him:

There was a bit of a night scene in the Peaks and a few pubs had late night venues where the music would be pumping and beer flowing.  Tom liked his night life, he wasn’t a climber and didn’t like mornings, and when I stayed at their place we would often end up stay out longer than I would normally.  Tom didn’t drink and was a willing taxi service for us, but he would also be the one who wanted to stay out as late as possible so we were at his mercy to.  Some mornings were fuzzy and on those occasions I’d be even more grateful for having Bamford Edge to be able to walk to from their place.  On one such occasion Phil and Sue were not up for climbing but fancied some fresh air, so we hiked up there.  I couldn’t help myself from soloing the classic and uncharacteristically long route of the edge, Gargoyle Flake.  A great hugely exposed line that builds with momentum and requiring utmost faith in the gargoyle or chicken heads at the top lip.  Phil was not too impressed with me on that day, with grumblings of my recklessness.  Now just to prove the nick names I’ve been referencing were not just reserved for blokes Sue was known to us as Chockstone Sue:

While researching for this email I noticed that Burbage Edge was listed on the UK Climbing website as being a Yorkshire crag.  Until now I felt like I had only once climbed on Yorkshire grit, and in truth feel that the grit at Burbage is more akin to the Derbyshire stuff.  The one time I did climb on Yorkshire stuff was on a bouldering weekend.  I went with a few lads from Mile End climbing wall, Finton was one but I can’t recall the names of the other two.  It was a wild and windy Friday night as we drove up the M1 with visibility down to tens of meters, but once again the diligent checking of the forecast paid off.  I can’t remember or locate the boulder fields we went too but can vividly remember the much sharper crystals of Yorkshire grit.  It was brutal.  We climbed for two days and went hard hitting many problems, and by the end our fingers were trashed.  I had blood seeping from seven finger tips and the rubber from my new shoes had been sliced to the leather. It was a great trip but I never ventured back to taste any more of that unforgiving rock.  Coming back to the Peaks I feel like I haven’t particularly talked up any of the climbs listed so far.  It is hard to pick out the standout lines I did as there are just far too many absorbing and consistent routes I’ve done.  However, below I have come up with four routes from Stanage that I would rave about starting with Hargreaves Original Route.  This slabby route with shallow rounded horizontal breaks is awesome, with enough gear to make it feel safe (with modern gear) the slab keep you on your toes.  I liked this one so much I did it a few times and even was known to solo it, it is certainly up there on the hit lists and better still provides for a wicked image with the mighty Stanage stretching out behind:

The next one is a Joe Brown mega route (he has a few to his name) and was first climbed in 1949, a pretty astounding feat back then.  I’ve seen many historic images of these fearless people climbing with hob-nailed boots, hemp rope and very, very little in the way of protection.  Even today with our sticky boots, cams and helmets many find their routes stiff opposition.  In fact I want to rave about two lines both led by Joe Brown.  These lines are worthy of gods and follow the right and left line of the big flake shown below.  The image indicates it is slabby but it is far from that, steep lay-backing and jamming keep you engaged.  My memory tells me I was out with Paul (who I introduced you to in Swanage) on this day, sorry if I am wrong Paul.  We were keen to do both routes so picked straws, or flipped a coin, and Paul got the harder Left Unconquerable while and I took on the Right Unconquerable.  Both were amazing and we did them in style, even avoiding the common belly-flop finish on the route I led.  If you ever get to Stanage without a doubt these must be done:

Now it wouldn’t be right not to include Flying Buttress Direct when talking about Stanage.  At the far right hand end it too provides a good vista of Stanage and the climbers milling about all over it.  I finally had a bash at this route when I was climbing with Finton, I met him at Mile End as I did so many others but we unfortunately didn’t get out together too much.  We climbed a pretty similar grade and also style, and as such pushed each other.  I remember the first time we climbed together, after he followed me up the first lead his first thoughts were to comment on liking the neat rope work.  Not only on the route but also atop, as I would often have the rope looped over a sling or my neck rather than chuck it on the ground.  Not so much an issue on single pitch lines but on the multi-pitch routes it was important, I think I have got lazy with that nowadays.  He had climbed this route before but didn’t give anything away and I nearly blew it when I tried to go direct-direct.  The route takes a slight left dogleg along the lower rail, which I finally sussed out as my arms were burning up.  As per the lines above this fine route makes many hit lists and was indeed a hugely satisfying lead:

Next up is the Quietus, it has to rank as one of the hardest grit routes I attempted.  The climbing to get to the roof is never too hard but siting under the roof was super intimidating.  Good gear in the roof crack was thankfully sunk in as I made my way out to the lip.  From here two flared cracks in the headwall offered no protection and only hideous jamming to turn the lip, which I failed to use properly.  I tried and tried but it had me beat, so eventually I was lowered back down.  Thinking back in all my time climbing in the UK I cannot remember any other climb that I didn’t manage to finish off.  Most times I had an ethic of ground up ascents and while at times I may have fallen I would have worked things through.  While this was not the case with Quietus I still loved the climb, which in the end I dogged up on second after some Aussie who just happened to be walking past asked if he could have a bash.  He walked it, but for me I was spent and even on second I struggled to make use of those jams:

With so many places to climb in the Peaks there are of course those that got away, and some that I really wish I had climbed at more often.  One of those places was Millstone Edge, the premiere quarry in the Peaks with many quality routes some of which that are unnaturally long for the area.  The clean sheer faces resulting from quarrying activities have left stunning arêtes, faces, slabs and crack lines.  The reason I never did much here was that it was intimidating and mostly hard, too much so for most of my climbing partners.  However, on one trip with Vince, Sheridan (remember Left Wall in North Wales) and a third person who was the person I climbed with, but can’t remember his name.  It was yet another one of those trips where we drove through driving rain to get here, and during the nights it poured down onto the tents.  However, daytimes were OK and on one of them we went to Millstone.  It was a bit damp and while the wind was biting cold it dried the rock quickly.  I was on fire and we gobbled up a number of great lines.  This was the first lead I did here which Sheridan then led after me.  The Great Slab is never too hard but poorly protected (remember the Peaks is a no bolt area you either have the guts to do it or back off) making it a slow and steady lead, but oh so good:

This was however my favourite line that I did here, Embankment 3 is an amazing splitter crack.  While there were some friction holds on the faces it was for the most part fingers and toes in the crack.  If I had to choose a climbing style I reckon my top three favourite would probably be finger cracks, slabs and layback moves.  To add to the pain on this climb I had my stingers on, the only technical shoes I have ever owned.  Once and only once have I bought a pair of shoes that were not comfortable and these were them.  After this route I jumped onto Great Portland Street another 3 star classic, and very different climbing again being a steep corner with lots of sloping holds that keep you focused on your bridging and pumping out your calves the whole way up.  The only saving grace being the awesome gear.  We were on fire, but Vince and Sheridan were not so happy.  The grades were stiff and the wind was cold so it was with much regret that we left by late morning and sadly went to a café to warm up.  As we walked out I kept seeing lines I wanted to try but held my enthusiasm inside, walking out just a little way behind the others due to stopping and yearning to jump on just one more route:

After they had their fill of hot food and drinks we headed back out, but not to Millstone Edge but Burbage North.  Much as I love this place it felt like a letdown after all those longer lines, but we did continue the pace and proceeded to jump on line after line.  The haulage for the day included this short punchy line call All Stars Gold, which is the hardest technical route I’d climbed in the Peaks.  However, due to being a one move wonder not what I would consider the hardest line:

While I am back at Burbage North I have to include the following image of this Romanian boulder I called Joe, on Wobble Stone.  I managed somehow to agree to taking up a group of three Romanian climbers whose English was wanting but not as much as my non-existent Romanian!  They were boulders not that we had bouldering mats back then, so once again there was not much use of the ropes.  This trip stood out for several reasons but mostly that we slept in a barn loft across the road from a pub.  I hadn’t heard of it before but they knew about it so I went along with it.  It really was a just a loft of a small barn filled with straw, you crammed in with your sleeping bag and put your head down for the night.  To get out you had to climb over anyone between you and the small door that was at one end, before climbing down a ladder.  It was hilarious and unfortunately I can find no trace of the pub or these sleeping quarters on the internet today so maybe it is no more.  I did pull the ropes out for one climb on this trip, and picked The Grogan.  A feisty thin finger crack which I can almost claim that I had soloed as my belayer didn’t really know what they were doing.  Then when they followed me up they hadn’t a clue how to take gear out so it was highly amusing.  Needless to say the rope and gear then went away and we all stuck to bouldering and had a blast:

As promised now for something different, limestone.  There are many great limestone crags in the Peaks and I don’t recall them ever being as busy as the gritstone crags.  That is probably a good thing as the limestone here is softer than that found at Swanage and would soon become polished, looking at the websites now it seems that some of these crags are indeed getting that way.  One crag we sampled was Stoney Middleton a real roadside crag and one with a reputation, I went there with Vince when a group of us did a manic road trip that took in the Roaches, Peaks and North Wales in three days.  I was a bit of a sucker and if anyone was willing to get out I’d drive despite the distance.  The line we picked was polished and grim and the experience didn’t encourage me to return there.  I also frequented Wildcat Crag and Willersley Castle Rocks both of which are excellent, nice long routes of 40-50m in tranquil settings on good rock with great gear.  We had heard a horror story of how the week before we first sampled Wildcat Crag a woman had to be helicoptered off after she fell and caught her wrist in a crack and was dangling from it after breaking it.  I still shiver at the thought of the pain she must have been in.  On a lighter note below Sheridan is leading the Sycamore Flake at Willersley Castle Rocks:

For me the premier limestone crag has to be High Tor.  Some would argue it is the best limestone outcrop in the country, but how could it possible trump Swanage!  On a side note I got a reply from Bob (who you’ll get introduced to in time) and he recalled taking an ice axe when climbing in Swanage to tackle the top outs, now why did we never think of that idea.  High Tor is a serious crag with not much that isn’t given an E grading and deservedly so.  Long steep and seriously sustained lines fire above the tree line with the River Derwent slowly flowing way below.  It is not until you rap off the wall that the steepness hits you; you land on the ground from the top of some lines a good 5m plus from the base of the crag.  A lot of lines go in two pitches, but that may have changed now that 60 and 70m ropes are more common.  I spent a day on this awesome face with Sheridan, when we bagged some of the lower grade (for this crag) classics including Debauchery (below), Highlight and Original Route.  There was however a line that I had my sights set on, and that was Darius.  I was a little nervous as the day before we had passed the crag and I saw someone nearing the top of this route, we came past an hour later and they still hadn’t topped out yet.  However, it is rated as one of the best E2’s in the country and up there with Left Wall in North Wales so I had to give it a go:

As I climbed Darius I took this image of someone on Original Route.  On my line the route finding was a little problematic and my trusty guide book holder that I could unzip to have the book open at the page I needed came in very handy.  It was a bit stop start with checking he guide and taking images but still mega.  Definitely one that twin ropes was required as it wove left and then right, following groves, over bulges into cracks, up faces and finishing on a very airy corner.  I took my time and worked the moves, placed my gear until I got the last part where technical polished moves were required to gain the final steep corner.  A peg and wedged horizontal wire several meters below the start of the corner made sure both ropes had gear for this move, as I was tiring and it looked tricky.  Sure enough I slipped and fell some 20ft with both ropes tensioning beautifully.  This repeated several times but with each attempt I refined my moves, and finally managing to get a good hold at the base of the corner.  The last few meters up that corner felt like they would never end, with arms so pumped out that placing gear felt like the wrong thing to do.  I belly flopped over the top and it took me some time before I could use my hands well enough to set up a belay, what a line:

So here we are at the end of my tale of the mighty Peak District and the infamous gritstone.  For many it is a place of tall tales and dicing with death, but for me it was mostly a place to cut my teeth, make good friends and enjoy their good company.  I did stacks of routes here but not a sniff compared to the 10,000 or so available.  Many people would only ever come here, maybe it was the number of routes, good access or familiarity with the place.  However, for me while I did a lot of climbing, bouldering and soloing I also travelled to many other places preferring to mix up the rock types, climbing styles and settings.  I probably didn’t push myself as much here as I did at other places but I sure did have a great time.  The image below probably sums up my memory and experiences of the mighty grit, as I amble up Big Chimney Arête at Burbage North in a relaxed and happy state.  Like my first 5.10 slippers, which I am wearing on this route, the Peaks was for me was a comfortable and easy place to slip into:

Next time I’ll take you to a place steeped in history and made famous at the turn of the nineteenth century by William Wordsworth and Samuel Taylor Coleridge, and has only just this month been named as a World Heritage Site.

Along the south coast of the UK lies Durlston National Park Nature Reserve, a place of beauty and tranquillity. The land drops sharply into the ocean being guarded by a sheer limestone cliff, which forms a crag that has been described as feeling relatively untouched and in its natural state. As you read on you will maybe get an idea of why this impressive crag still feels like a newly discovered climbing haven for those brave enough to venture here. I would guess that this was the closest crag to London and on a good trip when the traffic was kind I could get here in less than 3hrs (if you ignore the Southern Sandstone crags, which while fun only offered top roping due to the soft nature of the rock):

My first trip here was with Andy, who you may remember from North Wales, and Scott the American stockbroker. Andy had recovered from his fall in North Wales and was keen to get out again. As we walked towards the coast, the undulating green hills provided some steep inclines that Scott felt we really had to roll down. Well why not? I remember this clearly because as we whooped and hollered tumbling down these slopes covering ourselves in bruises, in the next paddock there was a big group singing praise. They were playing tambourines and had a donkey or two all dressed up in harnesses covered in ribbons and bells. We were heading into the most easterly cliff called the Subluminal and Lighthouse Cliff. You are guaranteed to see other climbers here and it is known as the place everybody heads to for a first taste of Swanage steepness. For many, if not most, they never venture further. The crag has short 10m climbs that are relatively easy to access and escapable. We played on a number of fine lines and then watched a guy setting up a rap rope for his girlfriend to hang off and take images, while he led Stroof. It took them ages to set up and then he set off, unable to make the crux moves and getting cranky before pulling it all up and heading off. Scott and I reckoned we could see where he was going wrong, but foolishly were put off by his failure and so top roped it. A shame as we both cruised it and cursed that we hadn’t jumped on lead, as it was a great line:

The next day we went to Dancing Ledge, which is at the far west end of the cliff line.  It’s an old quarry so a bit away from the ocean and you can walk to the base.  Being a quarry the walls were steep and smooth and this place, wait for it, was a sports crag.  What can I say, Scott was keen so we went there to play on hard technical 10m sport routes.  The place didn’t inspire me and I never went back and no I won’t use any images from there in this email.  These two locations are 3km apart and in-between them is where Swanage comes into its own, with a wonderful limestone cliff that is just shy of 50m.  It is broken into different sections and on the afternoon of the first day we sampled Boulder Ruckle, where I took on the classic corner of Finale Groove and linked the two pitches into one rope stretcher.  It got more and more exciting the higher I went, with the corner in the upper half narrowing up and becoming steeper with height.  It was a ripper, and will get another mention later on:

The big walls had me hooked and I also found out that this was Gareth’s other favourite location, so when he was available to get out we would mostly head out to North Wales or this spot.  In the first few years when we lived in the same town we would leave Bishop Stortford at 5’ish on a Friday heading down the M1 going against the traffic, as everyone poured out of London for the weekend.  Then round the M25 until we hit the M3, then we would join the throngs as they slowly moved away from the big smoke heading west.  They went slow for two reasons, the pure mass of traffic and on clear days the glare of the sun, as it dipped towards the horizon.  My folks lived in Basingstoke a short way down, and just off the M3 so we would pop in for a visit, cuppa and bite to eat before continuing the journey once the traffic had eased.  After hitting Poole we would turn south and head towards the coast, on these winding roads we knew we were close when we saw the spectacular sight of Corfe Castle.  This castle ruin is lit up at night so seemed like a beacon calling us to it, but then we would pass it by always remarking on its beauty before carrying on to Swanage to camp for the night:

In the morning it would depend on who I was out with as to what the routine would be. Swanage is a thriving beach destination and gets packed, but despite having a strong fishing industry the café opening times were more attuned to the late night revellers opening at 8am even in summer. Most people I went with would want breakfast first, but not all. Then after the short drive to the Purbeck Heritage Coast information centre it was a brisk 20min walk to get to the bigger cliffs. It was mostly downhill which was great for going in but on the way back the legs felt it. Now I’ve talked the reputation of this place up a fair bit, and below is the second and third reason. Secondly: You need to bring a rap rope, as once you are down you can’t walk out and swimming can be treacherous so if you need to escape it would be a 50m prussic. Thirdly: The place is steep and intimidating. There is a horizontal break about half height, which is where many of the first pitches end and above this the wall gets steeper making for amazing exposure. Here Paul is rapping into Boulder Ruckle for another day of adventure. He is yet another one of my tall climbing friends and was often able to bypass sections that would make me stop and think. There was however one route I led here, and I think it was Cloud Nine, which did beat him due to being a compressed roof section that he simply couldn’t squeeze into. That route will pop up again for another reason:

Before I show you the first reason why many avoid this place, it seems timely for a small geology lesson.  The cliffs are formed from the youngest limestone formation in the UK and are different to the limestone I have mentioned as being found in Derbyshire (Peak District).  It is also different to the limestone in Pembroke and Wye Valley (South Wales) or Bristol and Torbay (Devon) that will all get a mention another time.  It is one of the aspects that makes the UK such a brilliant place to climb, every trip can find you in a very different setting on very different rock.  This helps with building up a full range of climbing styles and techniques, unless you tended to only go to set places which some people did.  Occasionally as you climbed  on the limestone at Swanage you would come across a fossil, and on even rarer occasions you’d find a large ammonite that would provide a welcome jug or sling placement.  The limestone here is of a blocky nature and massive car to house sized fallen blocks protect much, but not all of the cliff base.  The following image shows this well as Gareth follows me up the second pitch of Heidelburg Creature.  Despite these blocks forming a great defence against the full fury of the ocean it’s not a place you want to get caught out during rough seas:

This is the first reason that puts most people off this area… the top outs. While there are a few clean rock top outs, but not many and none along Boulder Ruckle. Here as you walk along the top you’ll find star pickets driven deep into the earth. Despite their depth they can often be easily lifted out, but are firm enough for a sideways pull. Good job as you have to trust these as your abseil and belay anchors. The reasons being that the ground makes a sweeping arch towards the top of the cliff and the exposed top section of the limestone can be broken and loose. This means that after climbing you may have to navigate several meters of loose rock and then a steep scramble up the loose earth to reach the star picket, making at times for a 10m runout above your last piece of gear. This certainly adds to the excitement and for many I reckon it is simply too much, so they walk on by. That said in all the time we climbed here we never had an accident, nor heard of anyone else having had an epic during top outs:

So not surprisingly we hardly ever saw anyone else climbing on the big walls. We would see throngs of climbers at the smaller more friendly sections at the far eastern end, but there it would be us who walk on by. Thinking back I can remember one time we saw someone else on the big walls, it was so unusual that I took the image below. There were three sections of this wall that we went to most, going from west to east they were Guillemot Ledge, Cormorant Ledge and of course the mighty Boulder Ruckle. The last was the one we went to most and this 1km section boasts a girdle (or traverse) along its entire length, but we never did that as there were too many great routes plus since it had been established there had been section affected by rock fall. There is a climb I put up in Central Australia and I named after Boulder Ruckle, on that route there was a horizontal traverse along a jamming crack and as I made my way along that it was impossible to avoid dislodging loose rock onto my belayer. Something we never did at Swanage I might add, but it just made me think of those top outs! Now the pair below are on Gypsy, a climb I had seen and dreamt of (yes I really did) many a time, there is a picture of it in the guidebook and the line itself simply looks stunning and was calling out to be climbed:

Swanage offers a wide variety of climbing, but not many slabs. Below shows the amazing first pitch of Strongbow a clean steep corner with good rock and great gear, you can sink a whole rack into most of the routes here, except for the top or so 10m! Not all lines were straight from top to bottom and often involved a dog leg, traverse or zig zag through epic stacked roofs or rooflets. As such on most trips we took twin ropes to avoid drag but not always. However, long extenders were essential and there was none of this using quick draw rubbish; that would simply get you into trouble. Now I have to admit that on these walls there are a few pegs that can be found from earlier ascents, and being a sea cliff you have to tread carefully with these insitu bits of gear. Possibly a reason that Paul didn’t follow me up Could Nine cleanly may not have only been the compressed moves required below the roof of the second pitch, but the sight of the gear I had above it. The guide mentions a peg and as I held onto the lip of the roof and peered over it I saw not a peg but a rusty stump that looked like a Cadburys flake. With no other options I crow footed a sling to it and pulled through thankfully not testing it. When Paul saw it he just shook his head in disbelief:

Below I’m on Elysium a good example of the fine face climbing on offer.  Flakes, cracks, horizontals, underlings, crimps, jams you name it and you’ll come across it at Swanage and often all in one route.  Below I bathed in glorious sunlight, which for the UK may sound idyllic but not at Swanage and especially not on still days.  The combination of a south facing cliff, mostly white rock and glassy blue ocean makes for one hell of a heat trap.  It’s the one place I would guzzle water and we would make sure we brought plenty of it on those long summer days.  You’ll notice my rack is all passive gear and this place lends itself to wires, hexes and stoppers and we hardly ever needed to use cams.  In fact for my first three years of climbing I didn’t really like using cams preferring to fiddle a bit of passive gear in.  I owned cams but just didn’t trust all those moving parts, a phobia that has long since disappeared:

As mentioned a few places had better top outs, and some also had more comfortable bases were on a sunny day it was possible to get comfy for the belay. On hot days these spots also offered safer access into the ocean and on occasion we were known to have a dip. Guillemot Ledge is one of those places and below Gareth is fighting off having a snooze while watching me lead Zo Zo. In truth we had a pretty relaxed attitude to climbing, which may seem a strange thing to say when all I’ve gone on about is early starts and long days. However, we didn’t chase grades and picked the lines that appealed. It meant at times we would pass by what the guide regarded as the better climb, and on other days we didn’t anything too (relatively) hard. One reason was the length of those long days that in mid-summer would provide us a full twelve hours plus at the crag, on these big days we would take a heap of food with us and have snack breaks while taking in the scenery. Due to being at the crag from first light to dusk we, Gareth and I, also had a routine for camping at Swanage, by arriving late and leaving early we snuck in and out of a camp spot in town and didn’t pay (others were not so keen). We considered that was okay as all we did was sneak in and use a small patch of grass for less than eight hours and maybe use the toilets:

The upper section of Boulder Ruckle got steep, and the exposure was at times heightened by the need to make a traverse out above a roof, such as on Lightening Wall below.  We got used to having lots of air below our feet.  The plus side was that mostly the holds were positive.  This also meant that the need for chalk was limited, the general rule of thumb being the hotter it got the more you might use but we never used too much.  Being a white rock even if there had been other parties you would never have noticed a trail of white signs leading the way up a route, and maybe that is one reason why the place seems relatively untouched and in its natural state.  I still remember the hottest day we had a crew down and by mid-afternoon we couldn’t take the heat anymore so we wandered out.  Near the lighthouse, which is passed as you walk-in there is a pub, well in truth it is more of a restaurant in Durlston Castle and if even more truth be told it is a little posh (for us).  After the long morning in that hot sun my partners in crime all urged me to put my long sleeve top back on (used to keep the sun off me) to avoid me offending the other gentry that were using the establishment.  We were all guilty of polluting the air and I’m not sure it worked as we still got a fair few stares and were grateful when we got out of there:

Here Kate is taking on pitch two of Silhouette Arête, which is accessed by another great traverse with plenty of air.  I mentioned that many of the holds here were positive and you always knew they would be good when you found them on the grey nodules.  If you flick through the images you will notice the white limestone has bands of grey, some sections more pronounced and denser than others.  I’ve always referred to these as flint nodules, a great rock for making thin cutting flakes due to its structure but this also means that the edges you hold onto can be very sharp.  However, I have been using the wrong term all this time and they are in fact chert nodules.  Similar to flint as they are both formed through a chemical reaction whereby the calcium carbonate is replaced with silica.  For those of a wont of real detail I found out that these nodules are cryptocrystalline or polycrystalline quartz, and called chert when formed in limestone (and other formations) and flint when formed in chalk or marl:

A few of the cliff sections had seabird names and as with most sea cliffs in the UK there are seasonal climbing bans. Swanage has sections that are open year round and others closed between 1 March to 31 July to help protect nesting sea-birds rare to this particular part of the coastline. Over 270 species of bids have been recorded in the Durlston National Park Nature Reserve ranging from the mega rare, scarce and common. Not all use the cliffs but the Shag, Fulmar, Great Black-backed Gull, Herring Gull, Razorbill, Kittiwake and Puffin can be seen here. It is also has one of the UK’s most productive Guillemots colonies with an average of 350 birds returning each year. On the walk path along the top of the cliff there are wooden markers, red zones mean a seasonally ban area and green is good to go. Despite the demarcation the birds don’t take notice and on occasion we had to change our plans, such as this time when we spotted a nesting Herring Gull:

Some may be foolish enough to climb regardless, but there is no wrath such as a nesting seagull that feels threatened. I’ll recount another such instance or two in other emails but on this occasion as Kate was leading Mistaken Identity when we unknowingly got a bit too close to a nest. Luckily not that close, so all we got were a few warning fly overs and screeching calls to say don’t come any closer. These birds can get pretty big and are not afraid to dive bomb you, which could lead to a nasty fall. This route is on a section of Guillemot Ledge that is a decent distance outside of the banned area. However, as I said birds don’t take notice of the coloured markers. I also wonder how they set when bans come into effect these days, considering how climate change is impacting on the breading cycles of numerous birds. Enough said about our feather friends, Kate and I moved onto another section of the cliff that offered plenty of quality routes:

I’m not one to rave about abseiling, in fact I’m really not that keen on it but there were some that we did here which were fun.  At times the line would drop straight into the sink so the first one down would need to get back to the wall and secure the line for the next person.  The abseil into the main area of Cormorant Ledge provided a great opportunity for the second person to enjoy a hands free ride, with just enough tension on the rope to control the descent, and on this occasion it was Gareth’s turn!  The abseil access here was from Reforn Quarry, it seems a strange place and small in size for a quarry but it does provide the best top outs on the main cliffs.  Clean rock from start to finish and onto a level grassed area, with a perfect niche at the back of the quarry to set up a belay, make a brew and sit with your back against the wall looking out.  The area has a raft of great quality lines and the one that sticks out was Quality Street which tackled the clean face to the left of the obvious crack in the wall behind the abseil.  During one trip we were contemplating this area but felt uneasy, as it didn’t have as much protection against the ocean as other areas.  So we sat for a bit and watched the sets of waves come in, it looked ok so we started to rack up when we heard a massive crash and a big wave had engulfed the entire platform you need to abseil onto.  Decision made, we moved on:

Oran, again at Cormorant Ledge was probably one of the easiest lines we climbed at Swanage, but as I found with all routes on this cliff it was nothing but quality. Flicking through the guide to re-familiarise myself with some of the finer details to include for you I’m impressed at just how many lines I’ve climbed at Swanage . There are of course a few that got away in particular Tudor Rose and the Buccaneer, but I can’t complain and this is one of those rare places where I really can say every route was awesome. That could be a biased opinion because I loved the setting and exposed nature of the routes, plus the added benefit of having the place to ourselves each time we visited. In fact it probably is bias, as I remember going up the wrong line once and having to climb past a fair bit of dodgy loose rock, but the line itself was impressive and I still got up it with a huge smile feeling very satisfied with my choice:

It was with Kate I finally had one of my dreams come true and climbed Gypsy. The guide talks about the upper pitch having been previously protected by two pegs which were removed by a falling leader, who survived. But it was still highly regarded and simply begged to be climbed. Pitch 2 was the glory pitch that followed a line of layback flakes that just kept coming at you, placing gear was pumpy but it never got too technical. In fact looking online they reckon it’s ‘never too desperate’ but I would add to that ‘if you have the required stamina’. On this trip despite so many previous visits there were still plenty of good looking lines to jump on, and the other one that I will never forget was the Grim Reaper. Kate had a bash at the first pitch but after being foxed for ages midway up she backed off and offered me the lead. After double and triple checking that she was sure I eagerly gobbled the route up, the first pitch ended at a roof and required a full hanging belay, what fun! The second pitch wove a wonderful line through roofs, I guess you can tell just how much I loved Swanage:

I couldn’t resist another image of the route I first led on the big wall, one reason being this shot really shows the way the upper wall steepens up. I forgot this guy’s name, he came out with us once and once only. It was summer and the light arrived early so we drove through town before any cafes or shops were open. We had warned him that it would be an early start and I think he thought we were joking, but as we arrived at the lonely carpark it dawned on him that he would not get a hearty breakfast or as a minimum a coffee. We had been open and honest the whole time, but that made little difference and I don’t think the food and water we took to the crag made up for it. When we abseiled down it seemed that all was forgiven and seeing his glee we offered the first lead to him. He fancied Finale Groove, a good choice. However on the way up he ‘tweaked’ his finger and he didn’t want to further aggravate it so opted not to climb any more. So we left him atop while we got some more routes in, I still saw him down Mile End and got on okay with him but this trip never got mentioned again:

That was the day that I also bagged Elysium on which there was an amazing bridging corner above the good face that I showed in an earlier image, so I just couldn’t resist including this image.  There is nothing like an early morning stretch, but not sure if I am still able to go quite this far anymore.  I’ve talked about Swanage being a bustling tourist destination with beaches packed, well in the evening it isn’t any different and there are arcades with flashing lights and music blaring.  After a big day on the crag Gareth and I used to go to the arcades and play on the rafting and speedway bike games, the first was a killer and the arms and shoulders would complain no end the second was just pure fun.  Then we would head to the Purbeck Hotel, which is really a good old fashioned pub.  Here we would order a big meal that would set us up for the next day’s climbing, and wash it down with a couple of pints of good ales.  On occasion we would hit the pool table and on one night we had a marathon 26  game session that remarkably ended  in a 13-all draw.  Then we would sneak into the campground:

Earlier I mentioned Dancing Ledge, a small sport crag abutting the trad mecca. Interestingly the guidebook comes as a double pack for both Swanage and Portland. Portland is not far away from Swanage and provides one of the UK’s best venues for well-bolted sport routes across the grades. There is also a mob of really good deep water soloing. While I have not seen the deep water soloing areas I have climbed twice at Portland, once with Gareth and another time when the climbing gym I used to frequent organised an outdoor trip. Both trips were fun and the routes were good but it was also bolt clipping and when offered the option of trad against bolts you can probably guess which one I would choose. A little side story… one night at the climbing gym not Mile End but one near Leatherhead (where I lived for nine months) south of London we had a bouldering comp and none other than Ron Fawcet walked in and joined in the fun. In the 70s he was the Yorkshire boy who stunned/upset the North Wales climbing community when he established Lord of the Flies on the right wall of Cenotaph Corner on Dinas Cromlech. I was feeling pretty smart when he failed on his first attempt of a route I flashed, but he then proceeded to smash everything else. He was a lovely fella and damn impressive climber:

Portland offers another two miles (3km) of limestone walls. These are high above the waterline and shorter in length allowing for a single rope descent from the rap anchors on most climbs, a few were longer. The limestone here is not of the same blocky nature as Swanage, and it is pretty well devoid of rooves. However, the steep pocketed more compact faces make for more technical climbing and minimal chances for using trad gear. The area that I enjoyed the most was not the pocket limestone, which reminded me of the stuff I’d climbed in Italy, but the flowstone routes. These formations have smooth surfaces and the funkiest holds making for really fun routes, below Gareth is tackling Slings Shot on Blacknor Cliffs:

As my move out to Australia loomed closer I was packing in trips to my favourite spots, and below we are rapping in on my last day in Swanage.  Of course we picked Boulder Ruckle and we still found routes that we hadn’t been on before with my last lead being Heidelburg Creature, the image that I used near the start of this email.  The mighty cliffs were once again devoid of anyone else, and this image is great for showing the scary earth runnel top outs that kept so many other climbers away.  The guide says ‘the finish is often the most troublesome part of a Swanage climb irrespective of its grade’, however for those adventurous enough to take the plunge I would be surprised if it didn’t rank as one of the most exhilarating places to climb.  Flicking through the guide as I write this so many route names jump out at me to say I’ve climbed them.  I feel confident in saying that every one of them was precisely what the guide says ‘steep, exposed and dramatic’:

As we walked out one last time the sun was going down behind the lighthouse, and so ended yet another amazing trip to the stunning cliffs of Swanage.  When Lisa, Elseya and I first went back to the UK I had selfishly organised to meet up with Gareth only a few days after landing in the country; I did the same when I returned from two years in West Africa, but being single on that occasion it wasn’t a selfish act.  Lisa, Elseya and I went to Swanage and stayed in the top floor of a hotel in the summer of August 2003, which happened to be the hottest summer on record since the mid-1500s and reportedly lead to approx. 35,000 deaths across Europe.  It was in the mid-thirties and the room we were staying in was like a sauna and we didn’t sleep well, the next day Gareth rocked up and while we managed a few good lines the rock was smouldering.  We baked both on and off the rock but damn it was good being back at Swanage and a big thank you to Lisa and, at the time, four month old Elseya for letting me indulge my rock fettish:

The next stage of this journey will take us back into the heart of the UK to see more gritstone, as well as some of the limestone crags the Derbyshire Peak District has on offer.

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.

I’ve been climbing for 24 years and it dawned on me that for close on half of that time I have been living and climbing here in the south west of Western Australia.  So in view that you have been hearing so much about my adventures in WA I thought it was high time to delve into the murkiest corners of my memory, dig up my old photographs and slides and provide you with a snippet of my climbing past.  It won’t occur in one email so be prepared for a bit of a journey that will take eleven emails, each one touching on a different location that I either used to frequent or had a decent climbing holiday to.  But don’t fret you are not about to be bombarded with them all in quick succession and it may take me a few months or more to get through them.  Also Some will be longer than others, such as this one.  If you are keen to hear more keep reading and if not then reply to this email and ask me to take you off this distribution list.

As all good stories must start:  A long time ago in a land far away… a friend I knew through hockey, Andy, convinced me to have a bash at climbing.  He’d previously climbed but hadn’t for a few years and was eager to get back into it.  I’d done a heap of mountain walking so knew I loved the hills, but wasn’t quite sure what to expect with climbing.  After only two visits to indoor walls in London, just to make sure I was keen, we were organising a trip to North Wales.  We agreed on a ten day trip starting on the Easter long-weekend of 1993 and we arrived in glorious weather in the mighty Llanberis Pass:

In the image above there is a prominent buttress across the valley.  This is Carreg Wastad and it was on this crag that I seconded my first ever climb.  My memory of the climb on that day is vague and I took no images during that ascent.  However, below is Kate following me on it after I finally got to repeat the route.  This is the worst quality image I’ll be using, but it simply had to be included.  So why did it take so many years before I jumped back on this line, well probably because there are simply way too many places to go and routes to choose from to warrant repeating these big routes.  Lion is a 100m four pitch line so not a bad one to get my rock addiction off to a good start:

Llanberis is a mecca for traditional climbing with a multitude of big buttresses that offer all styles and grades of long multi-pitch routes.  The first image I used was of Andy looking up at Dinas Mott, which happened to be where we climbed on the second day of our trip.  I must have been pretty comfortable and confident on the first day, as for day two he was eyeing up Diagonal another long three pitch line.  If you look closely below you’ll see someone on the second pitch of this route just above the flake in the middle of the slabby wall.  I particularly liked this crag and visited it many times, partly I guess as the slabby nature suited me but also it not only offered sustained long lines but the scramble descent that can be made down the left or right gullies made the routes feel twice as long:

The route shown below is Superdirect a simply stunning line and I loved every metre of it.  However, the reason for this image is more to show the line of Diagonal.  It starts at the left end of the base and takes (of course) a diagonal line to the right side of the big flake.  When Andy and I climbed it the first pitch was fine, but as he started up the second the clouds rolled over Mount Snowdon (the highest mountain in Wales at 1,085 metres).  The heavens literally opened and the smooth slab was running with water and we were drenched to the skin.  It has to be the coldest belay I have ever been on, and as soon as we got off the crag we headed into the shops of Llanberis and I bought my first ever buffalo.  I’ve sworn by these fleece lined tops with a pertex outer ever since, and amazingly am still using my second one which is a testament to their durability:

The shop I bought that first buffalo from was the Joe Brown climbing and mountaineering shop.  For those who know their alpine history he was somewhat of a legend, and North Wales was his training playground when preparing for his bigger Alpine expeditions.  Some say that rock climbing originally started in the last quarter of the 19^th century in at least three areas: Elbe Sandstone Mountains in Switzerland, Dolomites in Italy, and the Lake District of England.  That said the Alpine Club started visiting North Wales for winter training from the 1860s, but the first recorded rock climb wasn’t until 1879.  So arguably North Wales could also be on that list as one of the birth places of rock climbing, and below is the crag that Llanberis Pass is probably most famous for… the awe inspiring open book corner of Dinas Cromlech:

With two vertical walls that provide a rope stretching 50m of sustained climbing this crag is both impressive and a daunting proposition.  Andy and I not surprisingly didn’t climb these walls, but we did tackle Cobweb crack on the west wing of the buttress.  This was the last climb we managed on our ten day trip, despite attempting to climb it on day three.  The first pitch was a tad rambling but the second was an imposing T shaped crack that required jamming and big gear.  Andy didn’t have much big gear so he decided to climb the blank wall instead of the crack.  Even to my untrained eye his gear didn’t look that great and I recommended against his actions.  But he went for it regardless and part way up he slipped and my misgivings about his gear were founded.  He literally bounced past me and was left semi-conscious dangling below me.  After lowering him down I down climbed the first pitch.  Not really knowing what I was doing I soloed it so I could retrieve all the gear!  Andy subsequently ended up in hospital with a broken elbow and dented ego:

I didn’t climb outdoors for another six months or so, instead becoming a regular at London’s Mile End Climbing Wall.  Back then for just 50 pence I had access to multiple rooms with up to six metre walls of all angles and designs and no ropes.  Two of the rooms had traverse walls one with a 50m traverse loop and the other not as long but including a full roof portion.  I would spend hours here and grew strong and confident, and then eventually someone offered to take me out climbing again.  That was however to different location so will be continued in part two.  Once reacquainted with real rock I frequently returned to North Wales mainly because I loved the big multi-pitch routes it offered, so my story at this location continues.  Below and above is Sheridan going up and then down the mighty Left Wall that follows the thin crack (on the left wall) of Dinas Cromlech.  This mega classic was first ascended in 1956 and was an amazing feat at the time, it is renowned for being ‘quite simply one of the best pitches in Britain’ and ‘an aspirational climb which defies most superlatives’ – I completely agree:

I lived near London for most of the time I was climbing in the UK and North Wales was a four to five hour drive.  The last couple of hours of the journey was along the twisting roads of Wales that were barely wide enough for two cars and had high stone walls on either side.  Most trips were with Gareth, and we’d leave work at 4 on a Friday, driving in the dark way too fast on these roads and hoping not to come across anyone heading the other way.  We’d get there in the dark and the obvious place to camp was over the wall on the opposite side of the road to Dinas Cromlech.  Not many people camped here and preferred the campsite at Nant Peris just down the road, probably because it had a pub.  Early in the morning an old lady would come round and knock on our tent telling us she owned the land and it cost 50 pence to camp there.  We never believed her but paid up anyway:

Gareth had in the past worked as a guide for the National Mountain Sports Centre of Capel Curig at the head of Llanberis Pass and had formed a strong bond with the area.  He knew the place well and was eager to come back whenever he could, which was another reason I came back here so often.  We were like-minded and keen to be up early so we could crack on with climbing.  Often we would be the first on the rock and last to leave.  In the image below he is following me up one of the many pitches of Flying Buttress a very renowned lower grade route that has to be done just because it has such amazing exposure.  Way below you can see the Dinas Cromlech carpark boulders, and we would camp next to the creek across the road from here:

The next image may seem a tad samey to the one above but there is a good reason for including it.  Gareth is following me up Brant Direct on Clogwyn y Grochan.  It was a year or so before this image was taken that we were stood at the base of this crag eyeing up a line just next to this one called Sickle.  Little did we know that to our right someone was taking a photo of a climber leading Snape Direct, and the image was used as the front cover of the fourth edition of the Llanberis Guide released in 1994.  Despite having used that guidebook many times it was not until about 2010 that I noticed Gareth and I on the cover image:

This will be the last image of climbing in Llanberis Pass.  We were climbing The Crevice on Carreg Wastad, a climb that has a great description that says ‘a pleasant route for the slim but a fiendish problem for the corpulent and those above average girth’.  At the belay above the stature dependent pitch this fella rounded the corner while climbing pitch 2 of Crackstone Rib.  Crackstone Rib is another one of the very highly rated and massively repeated lines of the pass, and one that I have climbed a few times.  This guy had an ear to ear smile and he was one of the happiest people I’ve ever met.  We had a good old chat with him while belaying and he admitted to having climbed forever, he was close on 70, and that it had kept him healthy and happy.  I still remember how the conversation and his never ending smile made me think that my aim was to continue to climb to a ripe old age, just being out there bumbling up the classics:

Llanberis pass runs in SE to NW direction, parallel and to the east is another amazing rock filled pass to called Dyffryn Ogwen or more commonly known as the Ogwen Valley.  As you drive through this valley it has more of a rolling nature and the buttresses are generally not so prominent or visible.  Many of the crags are not as extensive nor as tall as in Llanberis but they are equally good in quality and there are a couple of gems that need to be mentioned.  Another aspect that is different is that there is usually a bit more of a walk in.  As such when you aim for a crag you tend to be more committed for the day.  The walk-ins for me form part of the day and provide just as much enjoyment and entertainment as the climbing, providing the occasional diversion such as this fun boulder next to Llyn Idwall (i.e. lake Idwall) that I couldn’t resist.  For those that noticed yes I am in hiking boots not sandals, as I wasn’t introduced to the improved safety footwear until a trip out to, funnily enough, Australia in late 1996:

Our destination for the day was a 160m crag called Idwall Slabs.  I’d attempted to get to this crag a few times before.  In literally every previous trip we’d get to the base, rack up, tie on, touch the rock and the clouds above would darken and rain would fall.  The weather comes in from the west and the tall peaks of the area were a magnet to the wetter weather.  On all previous visits I’d hiked in with Johnny Sad Man Solo whereas this time I’d come with Gareth.  You’ll have to wait for other parts of this tale before I properly introduce John, but just maybe the misfortune was down to Sad Man Solo?  Seeing there was only two of us in the party you may be wondering how we got this image.  Well, Gareth similar to me liked his photography and was not worried about being taken off belay during leads (when he felt safe) so I could run to a good vantage point.  It does have to be said that this is however an extreme example of our exploits:

We decided to jump on the crag classic – Tennis Shoe.  It’s the one everyone aims for and in our usual early bird way we were the first at the crag and as such didn’t need to jostle with anyone for pole position.  Truth be told this valley didn’t fill up like other places in North Wales, which made it a place to go to when the Pass was busier than usual (such as long weekends).  From memory I think we were on pitch four when the next part rocked up.  So after topping we decided to leave them and the magnificent view of Llyn Idwall behind us, opting to hike out to some other quiet crag:

I didn’t go back to Idwall after bagging that classic, for no other reason than we went to other crags in the valley and had just as much fun.  There was however one particular crag that we did keep going back to, the most impressive rocky peak in all of North Wales – Tryfan.  Not as high as Mount Snowdon by any means, being just shy of 918m and the 15^th tallest peak in Wales, but it looks impressive with its peak surrounded by rock walls.  This image doesn’t show the full extend due to the top being partially in cloud, but the peak is in fact a long rocky ridge and all of it is rock, rock, rock!  The routes can be over 300m and are not consistent in difficulty, providing a mountaineer style outing rather than a crag experience:

It was the perfect peak to carry everything plus the stove up allowing us to sit atop, make a brew and take in a grand view.  In this image we are climbing Grooved Arête a wonderful 230m line, with some section being a tad broken but non-the-less interesting and fun.  It’s definitely a crag to bring all weather gear as like the others it can be subject to unexpected and quick weather changes, but unlike them bailing off this rock masterpiece is not so easy:

The higher up you go the steeper the territory can get, which is reflected in one of the descriptions I came across for this peak ‘in calm dry weather it is not too hard but the penalties of failure are unpleasant in the extreme’.  However, more often than not we would climb here in hiking boots, picking the more consistent lower grade lines rather than the ones that had one hard pitch with a multitude of lower grade pitches just for access.  I could ramble on a bit here but instead will let you soak up a few images, as possibly I’ve included a few too many of this place:

Some weekends we knew it would be cold and probably not the best weather to try and climb, and on those trips we’d aim to hike.  Tryfan provides one particular hike that is soooooo good, it’s called Bristly Ridge.  It traverses the entire ridge of Tryfan followed by a steep decent down the back and then climb up to Glyder Fach, which sits proudly between Llanberis pass and Dyffryn Ogwen at 994m (the sixth highest in Wales).  The way to start this hike is to ascend the NE Ridge of Tryfan, which has a number of short rock buttresses protecting it:

If the clouds clear then the views stretch out endlessly, such as this one where the backdrop consists of Llyn Bochlwyd and Glyder Fawr (1,000m and the fifth highest mountain in Wales):

Just one more of Tryfan which shows Bristly Ridge with a light dusting of snow.  It is on days like this that you really appreciate the effort of hauling up the stove:

I hope the last few images didn’t make you feel too cold.  You come to expect cold weather in North Wales and as such I quickly invested in a descent tent and more importantly sleeping bag, the latter costing three times that of the former.  Sounds excessive but on nights when the mercury drops into minus, the coldest I can remember was -7°C, it was money very well invested.  In fact the only thing I really spent any money on was climbing related, I lived cheaply and rarely went out.  I’d  head off to the hills each Friday not to return until late Sunday evening.  So in some ways my car and tent were as much my home as the places I rented:

North Wales has so much more to offer than the Pass and valley I’ve introduced you to above.  I would have had to stay in the UK a lot longer to find to time to explore all of it, but there were a few other spots that we did visit.  One of the old industries that made this area great was slate, the old mines are impressive to behold with numerous tiers being carved out of the hillside 100m up.  These places now sit unused other than as tourist attractions with museums full of historic images, and are frequented mostly by climbers.  Slate has to be one of the most obscure rocks I’ve climbed on.  I reckon it would be hard to find a rock type that is more slick in nature. Add that to the nervously thin flakes you need to trust to both crank on and place gear behind.  The slate quarry we went to most often was called the Bus Stop, and below I’m belaying Doug on Guillotine.  Behind him another crew are on Fools Gold, which is one of the very few routes on which I have been known to do a full-on dyno:

On days when the weather closed in on higher peaks we had a favourite place to escape to.  Close to the coast Craig Pant Ifan (locally known as Tremadog and to us as Three Mad Dogs) was more likely to be fine than any other location in North Wales.  It is promoted as a year round crag offering a great cragging experience with mostly two pitch 60m routes on steep clean rock that dries quickly after rain.  It has very few routes below the UK grade of VS (very severe), which helps keep the crowds and big groups away.  During one visit the place was drenched and there was no end in sight so we sat in Eric Jones’ Climbers’ Café, which can be seen just above Gareth’s head.  The owner was a great character and we always made an effort to know people like him.  The place was packed with climbers looking a tad disappointed and he came over and quietly advised us about a little known place that offered a good long multi-pitch traverse that would be dry due to the roof overhead.  I’ve clean forgotten the name of that place but it was gold:

I’ve just read an article written in 2007 they reckoned this place was in the ‘doldrums’ for the last decade, which does surprise me a bit as it has so much to offer.  As an example above Gareth is about to head up the very fine second pitch of Scratch Arête, and below he is pulling like (the guide says) a tractor to mount the crux overlap.  This was yet another sunny day in paradise for us on yet another successful trip to this awesome place.  The people I worked with were constantly amazed with the images above my desk, asking if I’d been to Spain or Italy.  They were not willing to accept that the UK also offered great weather (back then) if you were prepared to observe the weekly forecasts and make the long drive to the place that promised the best weather:

It was on the trip that these images were taken that Gareth and I managed to get in a stack of the classics in, such as Scratch Arête, Poor Man’s Peuterey, One Step in the Clouds, Merlin Direct, The Plum, The Fang and the one shown below Pin Cushion.  This route was the last and the toughest, back then it went at E2 5c but looking online today it is given a E2 6a grade so I’m feeling pretty chuffed about that lead.  More often than not when you peruse a guidebook you are drawn to the climbs of which there are images.  This one was no different, with an old B&W image of Joe Brown with flat cap on and a fag hanging out the corner of his mouth after completing the crux traverse.  The route is also listed in the North Wales 100 Classic Climbs and Ultimate E2 Tick List, it’s a real gem and described as a ‘route of contrasts – it has roofs, slabs and cracks, wide bits, thin bits and blank bits’:

When we topped out on Pin Cushion the light was fading and it was time to head back to the café carpark, at which point we noticed that the phono-plug which was the immobiliser key for Gareth’s car had unscrewed and fallen out leaving an empty shell.  I still have this empty shell on my keyring.  We had a quick look about but it was pointless so we went back down, and had to knock on someone’s door, the café was closed and this was before everyone had mobile phones, to call the RAC.  That meant a tow home and missing out on climbing on the Sunday, but at least we still had the key so as I sat on the edge of the car boot munching on a muesli bar I was very surprised when the car started up.  In the past couple of hours he omitted to tell me he had a spare!  So after just remembering to call off the RAC we jumped in the car and headed to the mighty Anglesey, an island off the tip of North Wales:

We didn’t arrive until the wee hours, the streets were dark and empty and we were a bit lost.  So after waiting at a cross road for the lights to change for what seemed like forever, I encouraged Gareth to ignore the red lights and go for it.  Damn a police car was round the corner and pulled us over.  Ever the diplomat Gareth sorted it and even got them to lead us to the campsite.  Early next morning we were greeted with mist and drizzle.  Not put off we walked to Wen Zawn, which has the might Dream of White Horses a route that makes the top 25 UK Climbing wish list.  Truly a mega classic with four pitches covering 100m girdle that rises from sea level to the top of the zawn with alarming exposure.  As we climbed the drizzle and mist continued and the fog horn of the distant lighthouse along with the crash of the waves below added to the atmosphere.  I’ve heard horror stories of groups banking up on this climb, but we managed to climb the whole route with no one else about, I can’t talk it up enough and this too was one of the best ever climbing experiences I’ve had.  As we were topping out the mist and drizzle moved on giving us clear views, and at that point another crew arrived so we sat and watched them.  They unlike us, probably due to the wet conditions, skipped the first pitch (as shown above) which starts at the bulge above the sea.  More fool them I say:

In 2000 before moving out to Australia I had one last trip to North Wales, the images of us hiking up Tryfan with the snow was taken on the Saturday of that trip.  Then on the Sunday we plumped for a place we had never been to, Carreg Alltrem.  We picked it for the only good reason, there was an image of a climb that looked great and that was Lavaredd.  Although the place was also described as one of the most beautifully-placed crags in the Lledr Valley and the route as thrilling and exciting and not for the faint hearted.  Checking out this crag online it doesn’t really have many routes and I have no recollection of what else we climbed that day.  Maybe we only bagged the one route but no matter it was a stunner and made even better as we were climbing in the sun, which was a welcome contrast after feeling like we had been in the freezer the day before:

As seems to happen all too often another party rocked up after us which was good this time as I was again bale to snap a few images of this great line.  In the guidebook the pine plantation hadn’t been harvested so covered more of the land and the mountains in the background had far more snow on them, but no matter we climbed it and it was very, very worthy.  It was a fitting end to my time in North Wales with a big hike on Tryfan in picture perfect conditions and then a glorious sun bathed climb on yet another place that we only had the time to sample once:

In part two I’ll take you to the Peak District where I did my first lead.