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This article is a textual
collage of the some of our favorite climbing memories of 2007.
Freezing nights, cold, blue-sky days; early promise changed to ‘wet, wet, wet’ and ‘mud is all around’. Summer came . . . went . . . came back. Skewed-weather year.
Log book a fine wine -’55, vintage year; Excalibur, Count’s Buttress, The Stalk, Nifl-Heim, Moyer’s Buttress. Spice with the odd E2. Try again: Sloth, Cenotaph Corner.
Companionship? Twigs replace “lost” tent pegs; cold mountain route on Cloggy summits in Caribbean sun; being part of a first E2; J7 on M5; late-night lift back to camp – twice; lolly after Chee Dale; Hard Rock almost Hot Rock on Gogarth; Swanage night rescue; Peak Limestone - it just gets better.
Thanks to the spectre of injury that follows me around like a forlorn Labrador, the high point of my 2007 is easy to identify - Beginner’s Weekend! Having introduced my daughter and a work mate to the modest excitement of indoor climbing, Beginner’s weekend was their first try on the real thing. Two great days on grit, and the usual pleasantly laid back and welcoming atmosphere of a big IMC meet, convinced them both that the walk in was worth it over the convenience of The Cragg. Sadly, due to an unfortunate altercation between my velocipede and a BMW, we’ve not been back out at all this year. Still, there’s always Scotland to look forward to, and at least one of my recruits should be up for a trudge through the white stuff. “Bring it on!”
Encouraging two beginners up their first VS 4b. Knowing they could do it but getting them to believe in themselves and their feet was the real challenge and the real reward.
Not perhaps one of my best years for special memories - things got off to a slow start in the wet Spring weather. However, the highlight has to be the Fehrmann route on the Campanili Basso in the Brenta Dolomites. Eleven 50 metre pitches of Hard Severe / VS on continuously steep terrain. The swoop of exposure as I led the traverse on pitch 10 was quite spectacular. Two other memories from the day were being overtaken on the route by the "Dresden Four", a party of amazing German climbers of average age 66, and Carol's comment as the full height of the face came into view on our descent to the hut - "If I'd seen it was that big I'd never have started up it!"
Climbing Avalanche/Red Wall/Longlands Continuation (Lliwedd) on the August Bank Holiday proved to be a great reminder of how good climbing is in God's Country. OK the climbing wasn't technically hard but there were a couple of spicy moments on thinly protected traverses. There was interesting route-finding (OK I admit we never found the Longland's Continuation until we crossed it near the top and opted for an easy scramble up the nearby gulley). As Louise says topping out after over 7 hours on route and about 13 pitches (with a two hour walk back to Pen-y-Pass in fading light) was our climbing moment of the year. That evening further jubilation ensued in the Vaynol Arms having learnt that the route was now graded Severe.
My favourite climbing experience of this year was when dad and I did a seven-pitch route on Gimmer. It wasn’t necessary very hard but wow it was high. I loved how you were so exposed, and for once I didn’t freak out! If you know my dad you will know he likes to push you hard, and never ever lets you give up (even if you cant do that grade he will do anything to get you to the top). This time he didn’t need to push as I was having so much fun; however coming down was another matter. We’d had navigational difficulties just getting to the climb. Dad sprinted up the mountain and then we, or should I say dad, had made some bad route decisions and we ended up scrambling up a steep wet grass bank. We came down in similar style, sliding down a scree slope on my bum (to dad's dismay), then down a wet slope and finally abseiling from a tree. Of course none of this was done without me reminding him how embarrassing it would be when I told everyone in the climbing club, and numerous swear words (from dad obviously). When we finally got back I was ravenous, tired, and had managed to collect a new friend (a tick). But all in all it was a brilliant experience and dad was hilarious!!!
Recipe for hypothermia turned into a fantastic
route. Beautiful walk-in at 6 am followed by 2 hours of fabulous climbing (in the
shade) and increasing warmth from about halfway up. Incredible views (and sunshine) on the
top. Perfect. Must sort out this southfacing thing.......
Climbing in the peaks, leading for the first time. The climbing walls don't teach you that.
During our "Summer" in April this year I spent a glorious weekend doing the back of Skiddaw with a most memorable moment I shall dine out on for years to come.
Bowscale up to the tarn across to Blencathra to Skiddaw, Skiddaw to High Pike and back to Bowscale. Friday night camp at Bowscale tarn and sat night at the Lingy Hut on Gt Lingy hill.
After a long hot, sunny, short wearing saturday made it up the hill to the Lingy Hut and what a site for sore eyes it was. Looks like an old chicken shed, wired to the hill but a bothy is a welcome friend!
Went in and much done to keep the wind out ,gallons of expanding foam etc. which had worked!
Trangia on and running, some superstar had left a sachet of Cadbury's Hot Chocolate and a flapjack bar well they were mine now and went down a treat before I made my "spagbog" and allowed me to read thru the visitors book.
So elated at my stay in hut had a full ablutions session, and prepped myself for an early night and a good 6am start as had to be off hill by 9.30 to pick daughter up from uni get together in Preston at 12.
Climbed into sleeping bag for the most regal of sleeps and was sound o' by 9pm.
12.30 am I was awoken by the door rattling (locks from inside) thinking I was under attack by sheep! You all know that feeling! Head torches thru the slit window and I heard " there's no one in there why's it locked"
Out of my dossbag, up to door, unlatch, torch on, open door, stunned silence and I say
"What time do you call this, I ordered my bloody pizza hours ago!!"
Three guys, three girls, 2 dogs RAFLAO!! When they regained their composure "If there's room do you mind if we stay the night?"
Well they got themselves settled and then sat outside till 4am drinking, birthday girl thought be great idea to go up the hill for the night, there'll be noone there!!!
No doubt they too dine out on that one!!!
Merry Xmas to all at IMC, few words eh!!
Leading my nephew up a VS 6 months after getting knocked off my bicycle.
I was chuffed to lead HVS trad, 6b sport and TD Alpine this year, but my biggest feeling of accomplishment had to be finally nailing Veranda Buttress at Stanage. Hard V. Diff, and the hardest thing I climbed all year!
My 1st , and only, outdoor session of the year and 1st time on the Roaches. I found myself on the beginners FU weekend. Under superb stewardship of Lou & Pete, I followed on both Maud's garden S*** & Damascus Crack HS** 4b & didn’t bottle out (although rumour has it some less that vicar-ly language was uttered on occasion!). What a feeling ☺
The disappointment of nearly climbing 11 pitches of stunning looking rock in the French Pyrenees after firstly spending hours attempting to approach from the wrong side of the mountain, then being thwarted by the kind of weather that makes the northern side of the Pyrenean ranges so green & lush! We’ll be back, Dent D’Orlu ☺
Lessons learnt: Read the guidebook more carefully especially when its in French.....
My memories of climbing are like frozen moments in time - usually captured feelings of fear, exhilaration, and occasionally success.
Belaying my leader as he traverses across Sirplum, and struggling to suppress my rising feelings of fear - "I'm going to have to do THAT!"
Abseiling into the unseen zawn by the remote North lighthouse. Confronted at the bottom by an awesome sea tunnel that carves its way through from one side of the island to the other. Four seals leave the sanctuary of their cave in a panic, throwing themselves over the rocks and passing within a few feet of me as they try to get to the water. My feeling of sorrow at having invaded their home is banished, first by the arrival of my friends, then by Mary Patricia Rosalea. She's our route out of this committing place, and takes all my concentration.
Standing at the top of the mountain at the end of the day. The ski lifts have stopped running. It's absolutely silent. I'm facing my first red run.
Discovering the tranquility of Cratcliffe, and the brutality of its routes - the jamming crack on Suicide Wall and the thrutchy offwidth that ends Sepulchre.
The unusual feeling of confidence as I cruze Sloth.
Leaving my friends behind on the previously cramped belay ledge as I step out onto the blunt arete on Hangover. An even greater feeling of loneliness as my last piece of protection recedes way below my feet - the 5b moves being too hard for me to be able to get anything else in. Gulp.
Climbing on Gimmer with my daughter. The seven pitches made up by White Slab and 'B route' being her first mountain experience. Both of us whooping with joy at the exposure. Totally confident in each other. Big grins all round.
Grabbing the jug after the crux on Gypsy; ½ an hour spent working out the crux move and psyching myself up and then it all went magically smoothly…
Looking down from the limestone pinnacles at the top of Dovedale on a crisp October morning onto the Autumn-coloured trees below.
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site then e-mail them to the webmaster