Guy, our newsletter editor, was desperate for copy so when he heard that
Margaret and I had just returned from Thailand he saw an opportunity to
fill some of the void by getting us to write a short article about the
trip. “But Guy, apart from a couple of mildly adventurous episodes our
trip, though very enjoyable to us, was too touristy to be of interest to an
IMC audience used to a diet of wild places and death defying acts of
derring-do”. “Oh don’t worry about that, just tell us the exciting bits”
came the reply. So here goes.

The idea to visit Thailand came from a pub chat with Nick Willis, who
has travelled widely in SE Asia, at the Wye valley meet in July. Nick (and
his wife New) followed this up with many interesting suggestions of things
to see and do in Thailand. So our outline plan was to spend a few days in
each of Bangkok and the northern city of Chiang Mai, and then to hire a car
and spend 12 days wandering around Northern Thailand as the fancy took
us.

I’ll skip the Bangkok bit for now (but see later for some pics) and go
straight to Chiang Mai, a moated and walled city dating back to the
13^th century, popular for its architecture (some 120 Wats
(Buddhist temples) and as a centre for adventure activities (trekking,
rafting, caving etc). But the biggest visitor attraction is the enormous
market known as the Night Bazaar and in the centre of this is, somewhat
incongruously, Southeast Asia’s largest outdoor climbing wall (15m high,
16m wide) built to international climbing standards and with an overhanging
section that would severely test IMC’s finest. Having no kit and no
(climbing) partner a wall session didn’t seem a good idea but the office
managing the wall was advertising day trips to a local crag called the
Crazy Horse buttress which included transport, kit hire, and a Thai meal on
the way back, all for the bargain price of 1500 Baht (about £23)… now that
was a good idea! A day’s pass was quickly negotiated with Margaret and all
was set for the following day.

The Crazy Horse buttress is an impressive limestone crag about 30 km north of Chiang
Mai. It has about 90 routes, spread over 13 areas, with an average grade of
6b+ and average height 70 feet. Check it out for yourself at http://www.thecrag.com

The Crazy Horse buttress – see why? (click on any picture for image in Flickr)

Our party, consisting of 4 clients and 2 guides from Peak-Rock, was a
bit of a mixed bunch. The clients were Claude (a French alpine ski/climbing
instructor), Martin (an English fireman), Brian (an Irish ‘traveller’), and
me. Claude and Martin were in Chiang Mai on a Thai massage course and had
been out with Peak-Rock before so were able to start climbing right away. I
had to demonstrate that I knew how to top out and lower off before I was
allowed to lead. After these formalities I teamed up with Brian (who hadn’t
climbed outside before) but before I started climbing there was something I
just had to know….what about the snakes?? According to Lonely Planet
there are 6 species of poisonous snake in Thailand, and I didn’t like the
thought of shoving my hand in a crack and disturbing a cobra! “Don’t worry,
we hardly ever see snakes here” said Nye our guide. “… but in the wet
season we do a 3 day climbing trip to a crag where we climb from a raft in
the river, and there it is quite common to see boas on the ledges and it
is a matter of routine to tap the rock before placing your hand in large
holes. But the worse thing is the monkeys who hurl sticks and stones down
on the climbers”. I bet they don’t tell their clients that before taking
the money … but I was reasonably reassured about our present location so I
set about leading some pleasant 5a/b routes, such as this one …

a nice 5b warm up

Claude was a very strong climber, as his day job would suggest, so there
were plenty of opportunities to follow (or at least try to) more
challenging 6a/b/c stuff like this one…

Claude leading a 6b into the cave at the Crazy Horse

The weather was hot, the rock impeccable, and the routes of a
uniformly high quality with much less polish than I was expecting. And, to
cap an excellent day, we were treated to a meal at a roadside restaurant on
the way back to Chiang Mai.

After hiring a car we left Chiang Mai and headed northwest into the
rugged hill country of Mae Hong Son province (75% mountain and forest)
making for Cave Lodge, a ‘must do’ recommendation from Nick & New. A
quick shower stop …

Cooling down under the Mokfa waterfall

… and then a relentless low gear slog
up the narrow and twisting road to Pai and beyond. As we approach the turn
off to Cave Lodge there is clear evidence of serious recent flooding (land
slides, bridges swept away, riverbeds strewn with trees).

When we reached Cave Lodge our first impression can be best summed
up as “hmm…it’s certainly different”. The lodge is owned by John, a
larger-than-life aussie, who spent his early years in that part of Thailand
exploring its many cave systems and researching the culture of the many
hill tribes living there. He designed and built the lodge himself in the
style and materials used in hill tribe villages. The lodge consists of a
central ‘community’ hall on 3 levels with open frontage overlooking the Nam
Lang river, and surrounded by small bungalows for guests, all set on a
pleasant wooded slope.

The Lodge is an excellent base for all manner of adventure activities,
two of which appealed to us (well, the second one only to me):

trek through the forest to a Karen hill tribe village, hitch a lift on
an elephant to the river, and then return to the lodge on a bamboo raft

a ‘full on’ caving day visiting 3 caves in the area

John provided his ‘Girl Friday’ Put as our guide for the trek. Put
turned out to know everyone in, and everything about, the area. We started
by visiting a Shan hut where the extended family were sitting around what
appeared to be a gigantic wasps nest. The nest had been steamed and the
larvae were being removed to sell as a sought after local delicacy…and
quite tasty too. After a few hours of easy paced walking through the forest
we came to the Karen hill tribe village where time really has stood
still.

Karen hill tribe village

The village was incredibly quiet as most people were out harvesting
rice, or so we assumed. We stopped to admire some textiles made in the
village that were lying unattended on a wooden platform and within minutes
women were coming from all directions carrying bundles of stuff they had
made…crikey, what have we started now. So a few quick purchases and then a
hasty retreat to find an elephant. Now, getting on and off an elephant is a
bit tricky, requiring a few exposed and unprotected 4a moves. Once
on board however the ride, though slow and bumpy, is immensely secure
as the elephant is amazingly sure footed over all manner of terrain. After
about an hours travelling we’re somewhat glad to reach the raft on the Nam
Lang river. Bamboo rafts are rudimentary in the extreme, consisting of a
platform of bamboo poles lashed together, a handrail sticking up in the
middle to hold on to, and two poles used for steering. The Nam Lang can
hardly be classed as ‘white water’ in the section we were on, but it
certainly has its quick bits so correct positioning and frantic punting at
the right time by the raft-men ensured a pleasant journey of about 40
minutes back to Cave Lodge. The raft-men then had to haul the raft all the
way back to the starting point against the current. A tough job for tough
guys!

…. get a move on

As it was approaching dusk we were just in time to see one of the most
spectacular sights in the area. Cave Lodge is near to Tham Lot, one of the
longest known caves in mainland Southeast Asia, which has a stream running
through it. Where the stream exits the cave literally thousands of swifts
can be seen entering the cave at dusk to roost, and hordes of bats can be
seen going the other way to feed. Not surprisingly the cave floor near the
exit was ankle deep in guano. Put had a torch so while there we decided to
enter the cave and have a look at some of the side chambers that can be
reached by ladders and are sheltered from the drop zone. Our exploration
was curtailed however when this chap appeared in front of us …

Snake in Tham Lot

The next day was my ‘full on’ cave exploration with a local guide, Mr
Wot. Before leaving Cave Lodge John was uncharacteristically serious and at
pains to point out that, to his knowledge, the 3 caves we were visiting had
not been entered since the recent floods so their condition was unknown. In
John’s view the recent floods had been the worst since biblical times as
they had swept away structures in other caves that were thousands of years
old. Bolstered by that encouraging news we set out and were soon trekking
through the forest at a much quicker pace than the day before. After about
2 hours we came to rise in the forest and Wot said ‘coffin cave’. Where? I
couldn’t see any cave. We put on our helmets and cave lights, climbed a
bank and there hidden behind trees and bushes was a small cave entrance.
Wot pulled out his bush knife and very cautiously entered the cave shining
his light into all the dark corners and recesses looking for snakes.
Satisfied all was clear we entered the main chamber. This cave was
interesting, not for its formations but for its contents: coffins. These
caves, of which about 30 have been found, are known as ‘spirit caves’ by
the Thais and contain very old wooden coffins carved from tree logs. The
cave we were in contained just one coffin and a few human remains like
teeth and bones. Similar caves in the area have been found with multiple
coffins mounted on trestles and bound with ceremonial tassels. Before we
left the cave Wot shone his torch around the walls and there resting on a
ledge above us was a cobra…but thankfully too high to cause us any
grief.

Another brisk walk through the forest and out into what appeared to be
cultivated land brought us to a fast flowing brown stream strewn with
bamboo flotsam swept down by the floods and which seemed to disappear into
the hillside. “Waterfall cave” said Wot and promptly lay down to look into
the tiny hole through which the stream was pouring. I could tell he wasn’t
happy. I got down and had a look, and it seemed as though the channel was
completely blocked with branches and stuff. After a few minutes of
reflection he stripped off most of his clothes, put on helmet and lamp, got
down into the stream and ventured in. Of course, what he knew that I didn’t
is that the cave opens out after the initial few metres of low tunnel entry
so if the tunnel can be cleared then access to the cave, or at least the
first chamber, is possible. Then it was my turn. Now I’m not very big by
British standards, but quite a bit bigger than Wot so whereas he managed to
keep his face above the water mine is in it up to my chin and my helmet
banging against the tunnel roof. The entry tunnel gave way to a large
chamber with the stream rushing through it. We followed the stream through
a series of low tunnels linking the inner chambers as we progressed further
into the cave. I couldn’t help thinking what would happen if there was a
really heavy downpour outside (after all it was officially still the rainy
season) as the linking tunnels barely allowed a helmeted head depth between
water and ceiling. The noise inside the cave was intensifying as we moved
along the stream and as we emerged into the last chamber the stream could
be seen rushing over the top of a waterfall. We carefully edged along the
rocky bank of the stream, leaned on to a firm rock and peered over the
edge. A 30m drop into a black abyss. Awesome!

I’d noticed a funny thing on the journey in and out of the waterfall
cave. Despite the noise of the rushing water I was sure I could hear
something more melodic. Eventually I worked out what it was: Wot was
singing all the time we were in the cave. How odd I thought.

We were soon dried by the hot sun when we emerged from the cave, and
then on to the third cave. This time the walk, mostly through cultivated
land, was relatively short. After about 45 minutes or so we came upon an
enormous rectangular ‘hole’ in the ground about 3m deep. I could see Wot
was very surprised by this discovery and it turned out to have been the
result of a massive landslip caused by the recent flood, but where had all
that earth gone? Close to the hole in the ground was the entrance to our
third cave: the fossil cave. As we entered the cave it became abundantly
clear where all the earth had gone..’.it had been washed through the cave by
flood waters because all the walls and rocks inside the cave were covered
in a layer of mud and silt. Yuk!

We slipped and slithered deeper into the cave until we came upon rocks
that were covered with fossils. No palaeontologist me, but these looked
like crustaceans so the area must have been under water at some time. At
the end of the cave we could look down through wide cracks and see a large
underground river far below, the Styx maybe!

We emerged from the cave absolutely filthy to begin the long trek back
to Cave Lodge. In the evening, while relaxing with a beer and discussing
the day with John, I mentioned hearing Wot singing in the waterfall cave.
“Really?” said John, “Well Wot is a Shan and they’re very superstitious so
he may have been trying to ward off the evil spirits”. “Evil spirits?” I
asked. “Oh yes, didn’t I tell you? One of the first people to enter the
cave fell down the waterfall and was killed” came the reply. I’m glad I
didn’t know that!

Cave Lodge is a brilliant place and I would strongly recommend anyone
visiting North Thailand who wants to try something a bit different to stay
there for a while.

These episodes are just fragments from an enjoyable and varied visit to
the Land of Smiles. Anyone who has got this far may be interested to see a
few more pics.

First, a test for the culture vultures. Which big artist painted
this post-impressionist masterpiece, seen in Chiang Mai? (answer given later …)

Post impressionist masterpiece

Bangkok may be hot, humid, grid locked, polluted and frantic but it also
has its architectural treasures like the magnificent temple of the Emerald
Buddha

Wat Phra Kaew

Not far from Bangkok is Kanchanaburi, home of the infamous Death Railway
bridge over the River Kwai.

Saphan Mae Nam Khwae

Chiang Mai is dominated by mount Doi Suthep on top of which is the
beautiful Phra That Doi Suthep temple where the Buddhist monks
don’t mess about when driving out those impious thoughts.

Pagoda at Wat Suthep

Buddhist monk at Wat Suthep

Living dangerously with cobras at a snake farm near Chiang Mai.

Cobra baiting

Chilling out with my pipe in the Golden Triangle (where Thailand, Burma and
Laos meet at the confluence of the Nam Ruak and Mekong River) notorious for
its opium production.

Model in the Opium Museum at Sop Ruak

There are impressive water falls all over North Thailand but the
Mae Ya waterfall in the Doi Inthanon national
park with its 30+ tiers must be one of the most beautiful.

Mae Ya waterfall

And finally, did you guess the artist? This picture just goes to show
what can be done if you really really concentrate.

The Artist at work

P.S.

We arrived in Bangkok in mid October, toward the end of the rainy
season. Nothing we had been told quite prepared us for the culture shock of
this teeming frantic city: hot, humid, grid locked, noisy and polluted. But
as we acclimatised and found out how to travel cheaply and quickly around
the city (mainly by Skytrain, express boat, and tuk-tuk (a sort of
motorbike rickshaw driven by the Thai wing of the Kamikaze)) a more
favourable impression emerged: one of friendly people, street markets where
the prices are incredibly low, road side food stalls everywhere selling
tasty Thai food, magnificent Buddhist temples (Wats), numerous thai massage
parlours (stop tittering!), and so on. While in Bangkok we had a day trip
to

A winter trip to the Alps was first mooted at the Gerry Gore presentation last November. After his talk Gerry asked if an IMC group would be interested in visiting his ‘activity base’ in the Southern French Alps and well situated for mountaineering, ice climbing and skiing. Several present expressed interest and Martin (Hore) and Steve (Culverhouse) took on the task of organising a trip. The February half term week was chosen and by Xmas five people were able to commit to the trip: John (Pereira) and his son Jeremy skiing, Martin and myself ice climbing, and Steve doing a bit of each. Departure date is rapidly  approaching when we get the bombshell (or should I say bomb crater).  Steve loses an argument with some tree roots when descending a bomb hole on his MTB in Thetford forest and suffers a whiplash injury to his neck needing manipulative physio and has no choice but to pull out of the trip (with intense frustration). This forces a quick replan of transport, as I was to have been Steve’s co-driver, and we all pile into Martin’s (deceptively roomy) Focus for the c.700 mile trip to Vallouise.

We leave Ipswich about 6pm on Friday (13/2), catch the 9.30pm ferry to Dunkirk and drive through the night to reach Vallouise early Saturday afternoon. The weather is beautiful: blue sky, cold and crisp (and that’s how it stayed for most of the week). The rest of Saturday is taken up with meeting Gerry and poring over maps and guide books, getting ski passes and buying provisions for the chalet (which is comfortable, quiet, and well equipped). What follows is an ‘ice
climbing’ view of the week, I couldn’t possibly do justice to the 60-70km/day black run fun had by John and Jeremy.

Ice grading is in two parts: overall grade I to VII (taking account of length, ice quality, how sustained, distance from road, etc.) and technical grade 1 to 7 (move complexity, steepness, belays, ice formations (e.g., mushrooms, columns, etc.) Our intention is to climb at III/3-4.

Up very early on Sunday, drop off the skiers in Briancon and then to Ceillac, a fairly remote village where the ice falls are opposite a ski slope and easily accessed from the road. We’re early, but the ice climbers are already out in force; clearly a popular place. As we gear up a van with ’24/7 Medecin’ in bold lettering draws up beside us.  (Wot, we haven’t even started climbing yet!) It turns out to be a team of ice climbing doctors (who we met several times during the week). We quickly arrive at the base of our route for today: Holiday on Ice (aka Y branche de gauche), 250m, grade II+/3+, a series of 10 to 20m steps not exceeding 85(. Now, a word on our respective ice climbing backgrounds. Martin has led grade 5 (albeit 20 years ago), whereas I have only done a few snow gullies and the odd (short) frozen waterfall in the Lakes. Martin appears instantly ‘at home’ whereas I am somewhat awestruck by the sheer scale, and beauty, of the ice rising above us. We are also struck, quite literally, by the endless cascade of ice fragments dislodged by the climbers up ahead as the ice is shattered when their axe fails to plant firmly. This is quite scary because some very big pieces get to the bottom without breaking up (we have the dents in our helmets to prove it). We begin climbing and Martin soon
gets into a relaxed, seemingly effortless, rhythm; he leads the steep parts and I take over the lead on the easier sections. We both want to get confidence in placing ice screws so our progress is much slower than the other teams on the route. Nevertheless we top out mid
afternoon and follow the conveniently situated GR5 back to the car park. A good first day! Time even to stop off at Mont Dauphin on the way back, to check out a conglomerate crag that was highly recommended by Gerry; but no time to climb.

Monday, and back to Ceillac again. This time to climb the sister route of yesterday: Le Y (Branche de droite), 250m, II+/3+, very similar in character but with more interest we think. It also gave me my first taste of leading 3+ and gave Martin a first taste of getting seriously
cold hanging about at a belay. We top out and then follow GR5 to the start of another route: Easy Rider, 70m, II/3, a popular two pitch route easily reached from the finish of most other routes without descending far. This is a narrow gully (of average incline 70( and some sections at 80() and is rather busy when we arrive. Two guided parties, the doctors (again) and us, all climbing up and abseiling down at the same time; so lots of ice flying about!

Tuesday, and a change of location. Today we are out with Gerry and his climbing partner Chris (a mountaineering instructor visiting from the UK). They have decided to climb the awesome Cascade des Viollins (150m, III/6) at Freissineires and thankfully have not asked us to join them. Our route is Fracastorus, 200m, III/3+. A five pitch classic according to the guide book and so it proves. Nothing steeper than 75( except an optional vertical cigar at the end. We pass on this because (a) the belayer will have to stand underneath a massive icicle, (2) we agreed to be at the pick-up by 3pm and we’re already late and (c) it looks bloody hard! We get to the pick-up at least an hour late, but no sign of Gerry. He’s either got fed up with waiting and gone home, or they’re still on the fiddle. So we stroll to the quaint hamlet of Les Viollins and there they are just abseiling down. What a route: two long sections of 85( linked together by a vertical 30m cigar with an overhang at its top. Understandably, they’re well pleased with themselves.

Wednesday and we’re back at Ceillac again. This time to climb Les formes du chaos, 300m, III/4. When Martin was eyeing up this route on Sunday I’m thinking to myself “You must be joking”. But, here we are 3 days later! It’s a truly stunning route of steep ice, caves, translucent sheets of blue ice with cascading water behind and icicles of every shape and size imaginable. Easy to see why the guide book rates it as the best route in the Ceillac region. Superb climbing but the increase in technical grade is noticeable. We complete the route but don’t have enough time to tackle the interesting tributary ice falls at the very top.

Thursday and the weather is beginning to change. The location today is the Vallee du Fournel and a route called La vision de Marco, 100m, II/3. Two long pitches, the first of 70( (after a steeper start) and a more demanding second with sections of 85(, joined in the middle by a
belay stance that got very crowded with 4 teams climbing up and abseiling down at the same time. In fact this caused Martin an anxious moment. He was leading on the steepest part of the route when an abseiler passed him on the left and immediately swung to the right on reaching the belay stance, oblivious to the fact that the abseil rope was forcing Martin off the ice. The valley shook to Martin’s desperate cry of “Attention, a gauche” and the errant abseiler immediately moved his rope. On the way back to the car we check out the impressive
Hiroshima (III/5) as a possible for Friday, but neither of us feel confident enough to lead the unavoidable 15m vertical crux pitch. Today we even manage to pick up John and Jeremy at the prearranged time, much to their surprise.

Friday and the weather has changed to grey skies threatening snow, and a much stronger wind; just the day for our longest climb. We drop off John and Jeremy en route to La Grave and agree to pick them up from a hotel bar at about 6.30pm. The road over the Col du Lautret is getting
tricky as the wind whips the snow on to the road, so Martin has to take great care. Our target today is the village of les Freaux and a route called Colere du Ciel (Anger of the Sky), III/3+, 300m, 8 pitches. Arriving, behind schedule, in the village we’re undecided what to do. Then two other teams arrive, heading for different routes as it happens, but it lifts our spirits so we decide to go for it. A hard walk in: steep slope, deep snow, heavy bag. We gear up at the base of the route. According to the guide book there are 3 steep ice pitches, 3 snow slopes, and two easy ice pitches, and there is supposed to be a path down (where to though?). By now we’re both climbing pretty well, much quicker than at the start of the week and placing gear more sparingly. The climbing is enjoyable, we’re sheltered from the wind, the snow is holding off. The so-called snow slopes have some significant ice steps so progress on these is not as fast as we expected. By 5pm we’ve reached the top of the third steep ice pitch and have the two easier ice pitches to do. We can either go for the top and hopefully find a path to take us back to our bags at bottom of the route, or try to bypass the top two pitches, or exit from the ice fall and go down the steep wooded slope parallel to the route. We decide on the latter, at least it will get us back to our bags eventually. It’s far too steep to walk so we abseil using trees. After our second abseil its dark, and we’re going to be very late picking up J&J. We can’t contact them because the mobile is in the bag at the bottom of the route. After seven abseils, including one where
the rope stuck and Martin gamely prussiked up to free it, we reach less steep ground where it was possible to rope together and weave our way through the trees so that there is always a tree between us in case we fall. The snow is falling quite heavily by the time we reach our bags and call J&J to explain what happened and let them know we’re on our way to pick them up. We get back to the car at about 11pm and head towards the Col du Lautret. The road to the col looks ominously quiet and soon we come to a sign that explains why: col closed due to snow. Martin, quite unfazed, says “We’ll have to take the detour via Gap”. “And how far is that?” I enquire. “Oh, about 130 miles” comes the reply. Another call to J&J advising them not to wait, and get a taxi. And then the long tiring journey from La Grave to Vallouise via Gap. I hadn’t thought it necessary to get insured to drive Martin’s car, thinking three drivers should be ample, so poor ole Martin had to drive all the way…which he did admirably, getting us back to the chalet at 3am on Saturday morning.

Saturday morning, and at least a foot of snow has fallen overnight, so no more play. We pack, clean the chalet, put on the snow chains, say cheerio to Gerry, and start the long slow journey back home.

What a brilliant week. Superb climbing, magnificent scenery, convivial company, and a first rate climbing partner.

Finally, thanks to Mike Hams for allowing me to break in his almost new boots, ice axes and crampons, and to Keith Lodge for the loan of his ice axes to Martin.

Mervyn Lamacraft

It seemed such a good idea on that Saturday night in the Stackpole pub. Every
IMCer who had turned up for the May Day meet in Pembroke was there (i.e Sheila
and me) and relaxing after a reasonable day at blustery Saddle Head. We fell
into conversation with a group from the Cambridge Climbing
& Caving Club who had managed to turn up in sufficient numbers to fill a
large table. Talk inevitably came round to plans for the next day and someone
mentioned “Having a look at Preposterous Tales”. “Wow” enthuses I, remembering
listening gape-mouthed to the account given by Martin, Steve, Rupert and John of
their adventure on PT some three years ago. And then “You can come along if you
like”. Well, by then Dutch courage was running high and HVS 4c, 5a, 4c
(according to my book) didn’t seem that hard, so the deal was struck.

It’s 10.30ish on a cold and grey (but dry) Sunday morning and three of
us (Sheila having opted to go walking) are peering down at the
streaming wet rocks forming the top of the blow hole which is the
final pitch of PT. We listen to the roar of the heavy sea as it sends
wave after wave smashing against the cave wall far, far below. I’m
wondering what on earth am I doing here. Graham has done the route
before so is the de facto team leader and is first to abseil down the
face of Bosherston Head to the starting ledge. I go next because I’m
leading the first pitch.

Graham waves a hand toward a vague arch, way off across the cliff
face, which he says is the apex of the cave entrance and the belay is
around the corner, just a few metres inside the cave. Off I go making
a rising diagonal traverse. I get to the ‘arch’ but see no sign of a
cave entrance so I look back to Graham (now joined by Rob the third
member of the team) who’s now pointing vigorously downward (aural
communication being impossible due to the roar of the sea) and then
beckoning me back. So I reverse climb, removing gear as I go, until I
reach the starting ledge. It transpires we’ve started from the wrong
ledge, about 20′ above the actual start.

We reckon it should be possible to traverse horizontally and arrive at
the cave entrance in the right place. So off I go again, but not very
far before the wall blanks out. So I climb down (getting a bit pumped
now!) to try and pick up the rising diagonal from the (proper)
starting ledge. I get to within 20′ of the cave entrance and, hey,
this isn’t 4c or 5a. The combination of hard moves and pumped arms
result in a pendulum lob. But no damage done, I’m still in contact
with the rock and able to climb back to have another go. No good
though, it’s too hard for me so back I go to the ‘starting ledge’.

Rob takes over the lead and manages to make the traverse into the
cave. Eventually my rope is pulled in and I set off noticing with some
anxiety that the only protection visible on my rope is a nut runner
before the hard move and nothing else until the corner leading into
the cave. Well, the move I failed on hadn’t got any easier and ended
with the same result, yet another pendulum lob, only this time its
spectacular. The swing takes me out over the sea and I come to rest
dangling above the sea in front of the cave entrance, at least 10′
from the nearest bit of rock (which was wet and overhanging anyway)
and with about 20′ of very taut rope above me.

Rob’s disembodied voice from the cave asks if I’m alright and if
there’s anything he can do to help. I think “Say a little prayer,
maybe” but realise there’s nothing either of them can do to rescue me.
So, out come the prussiks- very careful not to drop them in the sea –
and then a slow and tiring climb up the rope until I can grab the gear
from which I’m hanging. From here, its a squirm up through a narrow
slot into a tunnel that runs between the apex of the cave entrance and
the main cave chamber, and then a back and foot bridge across the slot
to the belay. Phew, am I glad to see Rob’s smiling face! We now wait a
long, long time for Graham to join us; but given the cock-up I’d made
I didn’t like to ask what had kept him!

And now for the REALLY scary pitch into the cave. The rock is
streaming wet; it’s almost dark, the only light being that reflected
off the sea some 100′ below. The deafening noise of the sea crashing
against the back of the cave is sending plumes of spray high into the
cave and periodically the cave goes completely dark as giant waves
fill the mouth of the cave cutting off even the reflected light. Very
atmospheric! This is definitely not the place for another dangle. But
we needn’t have worried, Graham does a brilliant lead choosing a good
line and protecting it well for both himself and the seconds. From the
belay the pitch goes along the tunnel for a few metres by bridging
across the open slot, until it gives way to the massive domed main
cave chamber. A tricky and committing move from the tunnel across the
slot to the right wall of the main chamber is followed by an about
turn and move back to the left wall. A horribly exposed traverse
around the roof of the cave to the bottom of the blow hole before the
welcome sight of daylight filtering through from high above.
Unforgettable!!

The tide is rising fast now and the spray is reaching us occasionally
at the top of the cave. Rob leads the final pitch up the blow-hole
which, although wet and slippery, has the virtue of being vertical.
Graham next, then me. As I near the top of the blow-hole I see a
massive jug and gratefully reach for it. “No! Not that one” shout
Graham and Rob. Taking their advice and exiting from the blow-hole I
notice the jug is covered in crap. We presume, with sympathy and
understanding, that some earlier climber had been unable to contain
his relief. Then straight to the Bosherston pub for some much needed
nerve settling beer.

A memorable day on an amazing route, which I will NOT be doing again.

Footnote: I have since been told the latest Pembroke supplement grades
Preposterous Tales as E2 for its exposure, and the first pitch as 5b.