Saturday
Perhaps stopping for a breakfast bite just off the M5 to let
the traffic subside was a poor idea. It certainly seemed one as we lurched
around the minor roads of North Devon trying desperately to make the ferry on
time. Hemmed in by caravans, stressfully screeching round corners and in
near-constant (albeit broken) communication with Simon ‘Central Command’
Chandler, the beginning of the trip seemed more like Saving Private Ryan than
Let’s Go Climbing! Nevertheless; Alexes three made it to the boat (just) in
time. [Simon’s comment – the boat waited for them!]
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| MS Oldenburg (click on any image to view in Flickr) |
The first good look at the island is certainly a magnificent
sight for the Lundy virgin. Rising steeply from the sea on all sides it
immediately screams, “LAND OF OPPORTUNITY!” at the approaching climber before
settling back down to its habitual impressiveness. After sorting out provisions
and gear at the barn I headed off with Alex Rigg, Simon Chandler and Bob Butcher to
Threequarter Buttress. Alex and I took in just the one route to familiarise
ourselves with the island: A deliciously tense scramble/downclimb finished at a
decent ledge for the route to start at. Alex Rigg lead the first pitch up the
edge of the slab in fine and solid style allowing me to lead the steeper but
easier second pitch in excellent position. Certainly a nice familiarisation
with the island, with the rock and (for me) with sea cliff climbing.
I am most impressed.
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| Alex Purser at Threequarter Buttress Photo by Alex Rigg |
In the evening we returned to the barn to assemble ideas for
the forthcoming week. Guide books and bottles of wine were passed around and
plans were made.
Sunday
Today I would climb with Simon Chandler, veritable Lundy
veteran. As a first timer, I was particularly glad of this as he knows the
island quite well and I didn’t know it at all.
We headed firstly to Beaufort Buttress, the Burbage North of
Lundy for a couple of easily accessible hits before shifting round the corner
to the less popular Freak Zawn. Finding routes here was far harder because
frankly, the guidebook isn’t much cop for some areas. Simon coolly lead an
intimidating looking fluted overhang (Dog Watch, VS we thought) before moving
round to the more wild and woolly looking South wall. Here we did a couple of
pleasant routes from wave-lashed ledges before spotting the esoteric and
seldom-travelled Dihedral Zawn to the South. Simon puzzled over the lines in
the guidebook whilst I went for a dip before joining him in scoping potential
new lines. We decided to return here the next day.
Monday
Back in Dihedral Zawn Simon and I quickly set about climbing
the lines we had looked at the previous day. They proved tricky to find because
of questionable guidebook descriptions but provided pleasant outings. Most
started steep, turning into shallow-angled grooves at about one third height
and finishing on blocky ground. The three routes, Dreaming, Illusion and
Reality were all done but I have no idea which of these were new-routed by us,
which of these we thought were new-routed by us but were in fact other routes
poorly described in the guide, which were existing routes or in fact whether
they weren’t Dreaming, Illusion and Reality after all. Simon is the chap to
consult on this matter. Separated from these climbs is a smaller slab further
towards the sea, which (according to the guidebook) had no recorded routes on
it. Named ‘Arf Slab because it’s about ‘arf as tall as the main lines in the
zawn and was under close observation from a seal (think what noise a seal
makes) when Simon and I climbed a line quite definitely not mentioned in the
guidebook. Whether it is a new ascent or just deemed too easy to be mentioned
is unknown. Very easy but with the advantage of being easily recognisable, I
can at least remember which route it is!
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| New routes in Dihedral Zawn? Photo by Simon Chandler. |
After lunch we headed to Immaculate Slabs. Impressively bare
and with the starting ledge tucked away out of sight under a bulge, it was with
some trepidation that I abseiled in. Let’s face it; abseiling isn’t much fun
and this outing was no exception. Possibly by further guidebook error or
possibly by using too much rope to equalise the belay anchors, it didn’t reach
the necessary ledge. I had volunteered to go down first and had luckily taken
the precaution of taking some jumar equipment down with me should the rope not
reach. Had I relied on using prussic cord I might well still only be half way
up (I admit, I am painfully slow at ascending ropes with prussic cord)!
After us failing to even reach his desired route, Simon was
rightfully a bit annoyed and had to console himself with a second go at a
previous project.
Centaur (HVS) in Landing Craft Bay takes a meandering line, firstly up easy slabs, then tricky,
thrutchy and awkward chimneys before a delicate ramp system. It’s really all
about the second pitch, which Simon lead better than I could second it! Padding
up the lichenous and featureless ramps felt precarious enough seconding, let
alone on the sharp end of the rope. Tricky for HVS to my mind.
Still a little early to head back to the Barn, we climbed
the lighthouse stairs to take in the view and relax a little from the day’s
exertions. It was here that we ran into Alexes Rigg and Harpur and exchanged
stories of derring do before heading back for dinner.
Tuesday
Today I would team up with Andy Hemstead to take on one of
the island’s classics; Double Diamond (HVS 5b). One of the few magnificently
perched routes on Flying Buttress, Double Diamond takes in the longest length
of an impressive slab of rock suspended from the mainland offering perhaps the
finest positioned route on Lundy. The first pitch a damp affair to a belay in a
notch at the bottom of the face, which I lead. Andy lead the second pitch, the
entire length of the main face. Steady climbing laced with the occasional
tricky rockover makes for a fantastic pitch well worthy of its reputation –
I’ll certainly be going back and leading it! Well protected and not as daunting
as the grade suggests, I heartily endorse this route.
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| Simon on Flying Buttress Photo by Steph Summerfield. |
Both of us in an adventuring mood, we took a stroll to the
South-West of the island to the area surrounding the Devil’s Limekiln. The Devil’s
Limekiln is basically a whopping great hole in the island with tunnels heading
out from its bottom to various areas not trodden as often as many by dint of
the effort consuming approach. The scale of the thing has to be seen to fully
comprehend. However, what I reckon’d to be a fairly good description of the
size, is, “a hole large enough to fit a medium sized cathedral in upside-down.”
The mind blowing exposure of the few routes out of the limekiln is pulse
raising to merely imagine, let alone abseil into and solo back out of on a
shunt. This is of course what Andy did later in the week (onlythe E3 route though…)!
In this same area of the island is Great Shutter Rock. A
tottering pile of choss approached by slightly iffy scrambling on loose
material (alpine styled ropework helpful) and a loosely compacted bridge of mud
and rock, Great Shutter Rock rises almost vertically from the tidal boulder
field below and is not subtle in the slightest. For lovers of the perverse it
is the ideal climbing location on Lundy: imposing, loose and steep. I rather
liked the look of it and made a note to come back. Feeling that we should
probably do some climbing after all this mooching about we headed over to
Kistvaen Buttress where we abseiled down and climbed up. It was suggested that
the route taken might have been Justine (VD).
Wednesday
“Rest Day” my arse; Six go adventuring on St Mark’s Stone.
(See the related article)
Party to this extravaganza were Simon Chandler, Andy
Hemstead, Simon Pelly, Steph Summerside (?), John Pereira and I (Alex Purser).
We made our way to the headland and set up the long abseil onto the ledges
opposite the island. This was to be our launch platform across the sea to our
target for the day: St Mark’s Stone, a less travelled area of Lundy for obvious
reasons. Since he quite closely resembles the bald, pint racing Italian from
the Guinness advert several years ago John “Iron Man” Pereira was the obvious
choice to first send across the briny to establish advanced base camp. Our
first mechanism of transferring gear across to the island was tough at first,
trying to haul the dry-bag across, above the water. The weight proved too much
so Simon’s inflatable dingy was brought into play, making things far easier.
Luckily the sea was calm enough at this point for us to be heard on either
shore, thus allowing our learning curve. All made it safely across with
particular merit to Andy “One Man In A Tub” Hemstead for the style in which he
accomplished this (see Simon’s photos of the day).
Once on the island we set to work
in pairs climbing a good number of routes for our relatively short visit. Of
particular note was the three ascents and three different taken routes of
‘Arguably The Most Inaccessible VDiff On Lundy’ (VDiff). A guano soaked,
overhanging, blocky scramble of a meandering route leads up the shoreside
buttress of the island and was enjoyed immensely by all (in whichever form).
The more intrepid pair of Simon Chandler and Andy Hemstead also completed a new
route, the girdle traverse of the island.
Of course though (to my mind
anyway) the main focus of the trip was the getting to and from the island. The
less observant and the more intent on fitting as many routes in as possible
might have failed to notice the rising tide, increasing height and ferocity of
the waves and the somewhat important fact that the Barn and the Marisco Tavern
were back across the water.
I headed back first to man the
(now reasonably slick) boat towing system. Later I discovered this move to be
to my advantage and others’ detriment*. Climbing ashore was made a little
tricky by the swell. This is accomplished firstly by getting close enough to
the ledge to be bashed into it. From here, the swell must be allowed to carry
the victim to the apex in order to spot holds. This takes several bobs (bashes
included). When confident the holds chosen are nearly positive enough to haul
on when filled with water, one waits ‘til the next high point before grabbing
said holds. The water then drops away below you (it is standard form to fall
off at this point) dragging first one’s whole body mass, then (if still
attached) one’s legs (neat trick of scraping bare feet off their wet smears)
downwards (it is standard form to fall off at this point). There is now the
psychological issue of not being supported by the water to contend with (it is
standard form to fall off at this point). Eventually, a bloody mess will haul
itself ashore.
I think we all picked up a scrape of some kind on the return swim.
Apart from Simon (Chandler) going
for his third swim of the day after dropping his dry-bag into the sea, the rest
of the event went off without much ado. Minor rockfall down the abseil chute
sustained interest for any slacking at the back.
After congratulations and
regrouping of gear most returned to the barn for tea, medals and sleep. I quite appreciated the rest considering the next climbing several
of us (including myself) would do would be at 01:30 the next morning. Read on…
* I inadvertantly made the
self-preserving decision of going first and Steph inadvertantly the
semi-suicidal decision of going last (when the swell was at its greatest). Top
marks to her for managing to get out relatively unscathed in such difficult
circumstances. As said by Andy – “Not bad for a girl“.
Thursday
My first climb on Thursday was
indeed at 01:30 but only involved getting out of bed (noisily). Apologies to
those woken by me knocking my rucksack of clink off the bed. The chilly and
breezy moonlit stumble down the island revealed to me how foolish one of my
previous ambitions had been. To my mind (I can’t remember where I got the idea
from), it would have made a far better story for the Devil’s Slide to have not
merely been climbed by the light of a full moon, but to have been climbed naked
by the light of a full moon. Alas; one can’t have
everything.
Come 04:00 it was my time to
abseil down the peripherary of the slab. I was finding it a bit difficult at
first but put this down to the weight of rope hanging below me. However. By the
time I’d winched myself further down the slab I could see the cause of the
problem was a bit more of a challenge than previously thought. The rope had
snaked off the edge of the slab and the rope bag was unfortunately hidden in
the boulder choked gulley off this side. Not too taken with the idea of
abseiling into the gulley I heaved and wiggled the rope at the bag, but to no
avail. It is here where the advantage of being 4th in a queue of
teams on a route becomes apparent. The nimble finger’d Simon Pelly climbing
from below managed to make a short traverse and help me out (much to the
gratitude of others still waiting to abseil in as well as me!).
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| Simon Pelly grappling with the rope bag |
The route itself is a corker and
went pretty smoothly. I led the first and third pitches with Andy (Hemstead)
leading the second. The only real tricky part of the route was the monstrous
rope drag on the top pitch (pitches three and four merged). This provided a bit
of a challenge and ensured I didn’t get cold – It really was like towing a car!
Andy and I topped out at 07:10 and
celebrated with biscuits, before heading back to the barn for breakfast proper.
Tea was taken on in absurd and necessary quantity before we could collect
ourselves for another adventure.
We had been strongly recommended
to make a trip to the Devil’s Chimney and with the tides so conveniently timed,
it would’ve been rude not to. Set against the imposing buttresses of The Devil’s Chimney Cliff
the stack (more a Dibnah chimney
than a Piggott or Puttrell y’see) jaggedly rises from the boulder shelf below.
The abseil in is from a conveniently placed flake on a grassy ledge hidden from
view from above and snakes down various square grooves to the slippery boulders below.
In fine style,
I promptly slipped over whilst fell-trained and nimble-toed Andy hopped across
unhinder’d. Andy lead the first pitch, starting with a thin, greasy and
unprotected (apart from by the bombproof pillar-thread belay) traverse to a
blocky overhanging arête. From here the route meanders back left by way of
easier ground to a large ledge (the side elevation of a small Volvo estate I
reckon). The second pitch begins from the left hand end of the ledge up two
leaning corner-slab combinations joined by a tricky block. I was leading and
found the first leaning corner pumpy (although safe), consequently slumping
onto the rope. However, after (in no better style) getting the crucial pull
over the lip the real extremis moments began. By dint of whole bodily friction
and my nipples performing cilia type functions on the slab I managed to moved
up and left to another slab and then easier ground. It is here that Andy’s
remarks on how he thought the route was a bit stiff for HVS were mainly based
(to quote Andy: “Alex does brilliantly to
stride awkwardly left onto another slab!! The Purser Udge is too hard for
me…..”). The route
finishes in fine position on steep but easy and well protected ground leading
to a cracking little summit. Guano, feather, carcass and bone matted, we stayed
awhile taking in the view and eating sandwiches before abseiling off. A pain in
the arse jumar on dynamic rope followed (possibly poor execution by someone in
need of far more tea and sleep) to get us back topside. A well worthwhile
outing on a fantastic route in a fantastic setting.
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| Myself and Andy atop the Devil’s Chimney |
It is probably prudent to mention
that the described might or might not be White Riot (HVS), our intended route,
but was the closest we could find. Maybe this is why we found it tough for the
grade (E2 5c was reckon’d).
I can’t remember what happened for
the rest of Thursday.
Friday
Thursday night’s preliminary plans
were confirmed, and based on Tuesday’s reconnoitre Mike Bailey and I were to have
a crack at Great Shutter Rock. We approached the choss bridge; me full of
enthusiasm and dreams of derring do, Mike slightly more reserved (perhaps his
greater experience of loose rock rearing its head in the name of
self-preservation). I lead out across the bridge at first only displacing the
odd footprint of gravel but soon moving fist sized, then head sized and finally
super-microwave sized blocks. The seals watching from below were luckily at a
safe distance from my quarrying. From the far side of the bridge I could
confirm a couple of conceivable routes as doable but was unable to convince a
less optimistic Mike to follow.
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| Shutter Rock – Red and white helmeted Mike Bailey and I just visible |
On returning to relative
terra-firma, I recalled an adage about old and bold climbers and understood.
The rest of the day was spent exploring the seawards tunnels leading from the
Devil’s Limekiln and the far North end of the island. Taking a stroll to the
far North lighthouse is a lovely outing, greatly supplemented by seal watching
from the loading platform below.
After lunch, packing and cleaning
of the barn, Andy and I found time to go for a final stride around the island.
It is here that my fitness is put to shame by that of a man’s thrice my age. No
more need be said of this…
A very enjoyable trip to a
fantastic place – I’ll certainly be going back!
Alex Purser
P.S. Alex Harpur would here
receive special congratulations for being the only one of the group to
successfully complete the mantelshelf in the Barn but forfeits for losing his breakfast in undignified circumstances on the return crossing.