“The dark arts of route finding really are another world to me” I thought on the slip road to rejoin the M1 having just missed two turnings to the car park for the services and therefore my much-awaited coffee. A few miles further on we left the motorway and were heading toward Hathersage and the North Lees campsite. Vasek and I were off for a few days in The Peak District, and I just hoped that this first slight mishap was not an omen.
The previous few days had been wet and we had started out from Ipswich in a slight drizzle but finer weather had been promised; as we drove up, though we had the odd spit of rain, the skies cleared and everything around was drying nicely. And then, just after lunch we were at Millstone.
Real rock for the first time since Whitsun – seventh heaven. But Bond Street as the first route? Well at least Vasek was on the sharp end. Off he went and it was amazing to watch as, half way up, he used one of his homemade pieces of protection – a fist-sized Czech rope-knot. And what a satisfying piece it looked I noted when I removed it. And then he was calling ‘climb when ready’.
Jamming – another dark art that still needs my attention. I have lead this route cleanly but for the second time this year I came a cropper, though this time below the crux, and off I came.
The bottom pitch of Embankment 1 at VS 4c was my re-introduction to traditional leading. I’d call it unusual; Vasek said horrible.
North Lees was as quiet as you’d expect in late November; gurgling brook and stars – bliss.
Wednesday and on a dry and bright morning we walked up to Stanage following Vasek’s thoughts; as he had a plan I led first so he had a chance to warm up before the main
event – whatever he decided. Fern Crack – a feature of The Follow-on Weekend I recall – what fun.
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| Guy on Fern Crack (click on any image to view in Flickr) |
And then the top-out. Yep – the Stanage winds were there and I watched half the contents of my chalk bag get blown across the Derbyshire landscape. I made a mental not to close my bag at he top of each route – and then forgot each and every time.
Vasek’s turn and with a fixed smile and a secret groan I agree to second Goliath’s Groove. He is strong enough, I know, and there is fun to be had, but I seem to remember losing skin last time. The start gave me as many problems as I had expected but I was glad that Vasek had chosen it
especially when I found another one of his Czech knots as I removed the gear.
Vasek already had his next route in his sights so as we walked toward Millsom’s Minion I decided on Parasite. The difficulties on the latter are low down and things ease after that but I was happy to make the step to HVS.
As Vasek made ready for Millsom’s Minion I remember that I followed The Webmaster on this route a while ago and enjoyed a moment of airtime and as I write I have still to second this cleanly let alone lead it.
Vasek had made it all look so smooth and I felt good as I started out but it only lasted until the move up to the shallow pocket and at that point I wish I hadn’t traded height for good looks. Hey ho. Another route to come back to.
Darkness had started to fall so after a great day we made our way back to the campsite.
After an extremely windy Wednesday we decided on a sheltered venue for Thursday and headed to Lawrencefield. Both of us had plans and I lead first so Vasek could warm up safely for his choice. Great fun on Great Harry – what a great way to start a day.
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| Guy starts Great Harry |
As I looked at the start of Vasek’s choice I wondered about gear placements. “Oh, none until the arête.” he said.
Suspense E2 5c
As he starts off I watch Vasek finding holds for hands and feet in what looks like a blank wall. Tremendous.
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| Vasek starts Suspense |
And then he is at the ledge, and then the arête and so finally a piece of gear. I am tied to the large block and with the rope tight I am at the edge of the platform where I can see Vasek as he starts up the face above the pool.
Slowly but surely he makes his way up; small holds and small gear seems to be the order of the day.
Suspense is right and there is a definite hush around the quarry as Vasek checks his gear, ‘shakes out’ and checks his gear again. He’s at the crux; thin crack, small gear and a long reach. All breath is held, no sound of wind. One smooth move and he’s at the top. What a bloody lead!
“Make sure the belay is bomber.” I call up, having seen what is expected of me.
I need to leap to reach one hold on the first part – perhaps I won’t be leading this in the near future – but things ease a bit as I near the arête. And then the face.
It’s all there but I am on a rope, I can imagine how different it would be at the sharp end; they say it’s a lonely lead and I can see why. As Maria would have said, “you need confidence in confidence itself”.
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| Guy near the top of Suspense |
The view from the top is excellent and having just lead it must have been twice as nice.
Over to me. A year ago I led and fell on Great Peter and here I was again, this time to claim its scalp. The first moves are really a boulder problem and then the crack begins. After a few feet I can hear Vasek recommending that I should consider placing some gear, followed by a
sigh of relief when I do.
‘Pleasantly delicate and well protected with small wires’ is a perfect description, and I have a whale of a time until I reach the place of my nemesis from last year. Déjà vu. After a couple of vain attempts I alert Vasek and seconds later I am airborne. At Copleston a week or so later
we asked each other what had passed through our minds at that moment. Honestly I did not think anything apart from “Bum, foiled again”. Vasek held the fall nicely and allowed me a short rest. The move itself is not that difficult, I was just not up to it at that moment, and soon I was
setting up the belay at the top.
The number 3 Wallnut that had taken the fall had to be knocked out using a rock and a nut key but it did come home with me.
Vasek finished the day and the trip with a jaunt up Three Tree Climb: great fun after a great few days. And then we were in the car heading back toward the M1 and The South.
I managed to find my way into Costa at the Tibshelf services this time and over coffee we congratulated ourselves on choosing three dry days between two seriously wet weekends, and patted ourselves on the back for the selection of routes that we had enjoyed. The crowning glory of which was surely Vasek on Suspense.
In August 2006 twenty three members of the IMC and various friends of mine from around
the UK spent a glorious week climbing on Lundy Island. Lundy is is a three mile long, half
mile wide, and 400ft high mass of granite, situated in the Bristol Channel about 11 miles
from the North Devon coast. It is an atmospheric and adventurous venue for sea cliff
climbing that I have fallen in love with. This year was to be my fifth trip there and,
having already done many of the lower grade classics of the island, I was keen to try
something new and unusual, perhaps as part of a mid-week rest day. Whilst planning a ‘tick
list’ for this year’s visit I was looking for something suitable when I came across a
description of St Mark’s Stone. This is a small island about three quarters of the way up
Lundy’s West coast.
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| Figure 1. The location of St Mark’s Stone, Lundy Island, UK (click on any image to view in Flickr) |
St Mark’s Stone is not even mentioned in the Lundy guidebook proper, which was last
printed in 1994; however its supplement – which is regularly updated and available online – describes a dozen low-grade
routes that were first climbed there in 1998. Not only are these routes new, they are also
difficult to reach. As with many of the Island’s climbs the approach would involve a long
abseil – some 50+ metres – but this would be followed by a 100ft swim! Yup, that sounded
suitably esoteric. The supplement notes that “all the routes were repeated in August
2002 by a well-prepared party who approached the island in a rubber dinghy”. Not being
able to afford a proper dinghy for the expedition I visited Felixstowe beach and bought a
child’s inflatable boat. This was immediately tested for robustness by my daughters.
To my surprise five other people said they were interested in joining me on a trip to
St Mark’s Stone. Simon and Steph are climbing friends of mine from Bristol who had joined
ranks with the IMC and visited Lundy on previous occasions. John Pereira had also been to
Lundy before but not for some time, whilst Alex Purser and Andy Hemsted were both Lundy
first-timers. Andy had stepped-in as a last minute substitute for Guy Reid,
who was recovering from his climbing accident at Swanage. One of the things I love about
climbing is the loose network of friends and contacts that you make whilst on your climbing
travels, and our party was a good example of this. We’d been climbing hard for 3 days so
Wednesday seemed like a suitable choice for our ‘rest day adventure’.
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| Figure 2. St Mark’s Stone, 100ft offshore from the imposing cliff of ‘The Parthenos’ (in shadow). Photo taken by Alex Rigg from Beaufort Buttress. |
The Lundy topo showed that our abseil started from a spur to the North
side of Grand Falls Zawn. Simon and I had been here before in 2003. On that occasion we
had sat for some time on this spur looking back at the immense slab taken by American
Beauty, trying to summon up the courage to make the 250ft abseil and so commit ourselves
to doing that classic E1. This time we knew we were in roughly the right place, but not being
able to see down to the base of the cliff (as is often the case) we were unsure quite
where to abseil. Tying the 100 m static rope around a couple of large boulders I
threaded-in to my belay device and attached the backup prussik loop before starting a careful
descent down the loose fern-covered slope. This became steeper and more crumbly before finally
reaching solid rock, although I still descended slowly to avoid dislodging loose blocks
above. On reaching the bottom I yelled up that I was off the rope, and then started blowing
up the inflatable boat.
My plan had been to put the climbing gear in the boat and push it in front of me whilst
swimming across to the island. The boat could then be pulled back and the next person could cross with their gear. An alternative scheme was suggested – to set up a Tyrrolean Traverse between Lundy and St Mark’s Stone.
None of us had done this before but we gave it a try anyway. John volunteered to swim over to St Mark’s Stone with one end of the spare rope that we were intending to suspend across the gap. Off he went. On reaching ‘The Stone’ he realised that climbing pro, tape loops, nuts, etc. would be needed to attach his end of the rope to rock, so I swam across with my climbing gear in the boat. It quickly became clear that we weren’t going to be able to get the rope under enough tension for a person to haul themselves along it. We could have tried to increase the tension by setting up pulleys and using prussik loops, but the gap to the island was so big, and the rope so stretchy that we gave up on that idea. It just wasn’t going to take a person’s weight. Communication was now more difficult because two of us were on the island and four were still on Lundy, but we managed to change the plan. If we passed each end of the rope through runners attached to the rock then surely we could haul over bags of climbing gear suspended from the rope – rather like a cable car. Again this wasn’t successful. As the bag of gear neared the middle of the gap the rope was sagging so much that it started to dip into the sea. To pull the gear out of the water it was necessary to put the rope under so much tension (using italian hitches for example) that it was then impossible to move the rope one way or the other.
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| Figure 3. Our failed attempt to haul climbing gear across the gap – photo Alex Rigg. |
By this stage lots of time (and energy!) had been spent fiddling about with the rope. It was time to revert to a modified form of ‘Plan A’. The gear would go in the big red drysac that was tied-in to the boat, and that would be pulled back-and-forth by the rope. One by one the remaining four crossed over, most of them swimming next to the gear-laden boat which was guided by the rope. At this stage the sea was pretty calm so getting in and out of the water was straightforward. In fact whilst the others were crossing I had fun jumping from rocks into the fantastically clear deep water. Andy, however, was not happy about the cold water so opted to sit in the under-sized boat and paddle over.
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| Figure 4. Paddling across in the gift shop dinghy |
Throughout the crossing I was worried that the inflatable could be punctured by a sharp rock. I have to admit that I was fussing about this too much – but with all the difficulties we’d had getting it there I could imagine not being able to get our climbing gear back again without the boat.
Once on St Mark’s Stone you find that it’s got a friendy and relaxed feel. The main slab faces South so is warm and sunny, and rises from a large non-tidal platform on which it’s easy to lounge and take in the atmosphere. Most of the routes follow diagonal crack features on the main slab and all are at easy grades. These are marked on figure 5.
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| Figure 5. The routes on St Mark’s Stone. Photo Alex Rigg. |
In this photo John and Alex are on the far left-hand end climbing Lundy Offshore, marked by the green line. The straight diagonal chimney ending
at a is St Mark’s Chimney (Diff), whilst St Mark’s Crack (V Diff) is the line ending at b. Steph is leading St Mark’s Jugs (c) belayed by Simon Pelly. Leaning Difficulties is the straight chimney/crack ending at d, whilst the slab directly below (green line) is Swim for Victory, graded HVS but downgraded by Andy and me to VS at most. In this photo Andy and I have just finished the prominent straight line of Mary’s Jugs (e) and are looking for Arguably the Most Inaccessible Quality V Diff on Lundy. This is over on the right-hand end of the island and is – unsurprisingly – a V Diff. It’s reached by abseiling to some small ledges just above the high tide line. From this same point Simon and Steph created a new route called Blinded by Bermuda, in honour of my stunning shorts.
The slab’s diagonal lines are such strong features that most of the existing routes follow these. Whilst eating lunch and contemplating the rock my perverse mind decided that it would be fun to do something deliberately unusual. From this was born a new route Currently the most esoteric girdle traverse on St Mark’s Stone which Andy and I climbed in two pitches and graded VS. It’s two pitches are shown in figure 5 by the red and purple lines.
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| Figure 6. Abseilng in to ‘Arguably the Most Inaccessible Quality V Diff on Lundy’ |
Figure 7. Andy belaying on our new girdle traverse. |
I really wanted to do more climbing but John pointed out with some concern that sea was getting noticably rougher. I wasn’t keen to leave because it still seemed early in the day, but John was quite right. Alex swam back first to take charge of pulling over the dingy’s guide rope, then we took it in turns to swim back with our gear in the dingy. The sea was now rising and falling with some considerable swell, and even getting into the water proved a tricky with Steph being knocked from the rocks into the sea. Having seen this most of us wore our climbing helmets while swimming back.
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| Figure 8. The return crossing |
Having made the strenuous 100ft return swim through a choppy sea you then had to get out of the water. Grabbing hold of the rock whilst the sea was at the highest point in its swell you were left clinging to slippery wet rock – above a nasty looking drop as the sea fell by some 10ft or more. Not nice. You then had a few seconds to scramble out of its reach before the sea rose and caught you again. Unfortunately the sea moves faster than you can climb. In attempting to scramble out several people ended up with cut feet, so I’d recommend suitable footwear if we ever do this sort of thing again. The other top tip is to use a length of rope as a handline. Those on shore coil this up and throw it over the head of the person in the water, aiming well past them. This makes it easier for the swimmer to find the rope and grab it as it falls onto them. They can then be hauled in by the helpers on shore. By holding your legs forwards rather like a water skier your feet hit the rock first – hopefully at the high water level – and you can be pulled out of the water by the rope, pivoting about your feet into an upright position above sea level. Only when standing almost upright do you grab the rock with your hands. It’s just as well we’d got this technique honed because while drying off and getting ready to change out of my wet clothes I knocked my rucksac off its ledge so that it bounced down the rocks and back into the sea. My camera was in there! Fortunately trapped air kept the sac afloat so I was able to jump back in to retrieve it, and then be hauled out again.
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| Figure 9. Standing in front of our exit point from the sea. As a sign of how rough it was the water is spraying up to well over head height as it hits the rocks |
We were all safely back on Lundy island but the fat lady wasn’t yet singing. We still had to climb to the top of the cliff over fairly loose ground. Originally I’d planned to climb one of the routes in Grand Falls Zawn, but we’d been told by the Island’s nature warden that it was restricted due to the large number of birds that were still nesting there. To be honest at this stage I didn’t mind; the excitement of swimming back from St Mark’s Stone had left me feeling pretty tired. I now just wanted to see everyone safely to the top of the cliff and back to the Barn. The route up was technically easy, but the rocks soon gave way to loose grass and dry mud in which were embedded large boulders that had to be passed carefully for fear of dislodging them. Those people that were still left below the climber crouched behind protection out of the route of falling debris – or that’s what I wanted to happen. I can remember getting quite stressed when I saw this wasn’t happening. I really didn’t want to see anyone get hurt on my mad adventure, particularly after its success so far.
Dinner that evening was a jolly affair. As usual we were all sitting around the huge table on The Barn, sharing meals, drinks and our tales of the day’s adventures. Spirits were high and, to my surprise, quite a few people said they’d like to join in with part 2 of my plan for the day – to climb The Devil’s Slide by the light of the full moon. The whole trip to the island had, in fact, been planned so that our visit coincided with a full moon. However, like most of the climbs on Lundy ‘The Slide’ is on the West coast, so the moon wouldn’t be seen from base of the slab until the second half of the night. It would need an ‘alpine start’, so I put in my earplugs and went to bed.
Somehow I woke at 1.30 am, just before my watch alarm was due to go off. That was good – nobody would be disturbed if the mission was aborted. Outside the full moon was shining brightly, but the sky was full of small clouds. They scurried quickly across the moon’s face, driven by the same wind that had made the sea so choppy during our return swim yesterday (!). Conditions weren’t great for climbing, and with all this cloud around I couldn’t even be sure that the moonlight would last for long. Should I wake the others? I woke Simon Pelly to ask his opinion. We decided that we would do it, so got ourselves ready to leave. Simon and I planned to go ahead of everyone else and to rig the abseil rope before they arrived; although I doubted anyone would really want to leave their bed to join us once the bravado of the previous evening had worn off. At the last minute I quietly woke those who’d said they were interested, and left The Barn.
Simon and I set off up the gravelled track on the East side of the island, planning to cross over to the West coast when we reached the Threequarter Wall. In this way, we figured, we’d go straight to the cliff at the top of The Devil’s Slide. It was a good plan, but we should have prepared by visiting the target area sometime in the previous few days; it was a bit late to realise that we hadn’t been there for 4 years! As you can probably guess, on arriving at the West coast we weren’t sure if we were in the right place. Uncertain of what to do we went North a bit, then South a bit, then back North – trying in vain to identify a feature we recognised. It all looked the same in dark. Finally we heard voices, so headed back South towards them. Right at the point where we’d originally arrived on the West coast we found all the others, heading down a gully that leads to the abseil boulder halfway down the edge of The Slide. Feeling pretty silly I mumbled something lame about taking the scenic route, then set about tying the abseil rope around the boulder.
I arrived at the bottom of The Slide first. It felt eery to be alone in the darkness with an angry sea crashing into the base of the rocky platform. Far above I could see half a dozen head torches dancing around, but all I could hear was the pounding sea. By the time Simon arrived our ropes were flaked out and I was ready to go. At first I tried to leave my headtorch off. Sure, the climbing was easy even without much light – just pad up the super sticky granite slab – but I found it difficult to spot where to put protection, even when leaving long gaps between the placements. I chickened out and turned my head torch on. Soon I arrived at the halfway break, level with the big boulder that we’d abseiled from. There were still plenty of people there, queuing. Despite it only being 2:30 am four other pairs of climbers had joined the party. It looked like this adventure had turned out to be too popular.
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| Figure 10. Belaying at the halway break on The Devil’s Slide. Photo taken by Ian Thurgood from the abseil boulder. |
By the time Simon and I arrived at the top of the climb, three more pitches later, the sun was rising and a warm glow hugged the horizon. Caroline and Mike met us at the top of the cliff; our rucksacks brought up from the abseil boulder and the abseil rope already packed. Being at the back of the abseil queue they’d got too cold and decided not to do the route, particularly since they wouldn’t actually be doing it by moonlight. Four pairs, it seemed, were as many as The Slide could accommodate in one night. We didn’t wait for all the others to finish climbing, but set off back for The Barn to catch some sleep. After all, it was dawn and another days climbing was beckoning …
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.
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.
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.
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).
“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“.
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.
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!
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.
It was early (05.30hrs or some such) when the trip began in earnest (or was it Ipswich?). An uneventful journey meant the relaxing began with time for a wander and an ice cream in sunny Barnstaple. We were full of chatter with great plans and long tick lists of route upon route.
The island’s reputation had been hyped for many of my 11 years in the IMC and I had been looking forward to my inaugural visit for at least 2 of those many. I only hoped that I wouldn’t be disappointed.
As a first-timer, the island begins to get under your skin as the MS Oldenburg approaches the small grey/green ‘blob’
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| Figure 1. Approaching Lundy (click on any image to view in Flickr) |
and starts to tantalise with silhouettes appearing on the top and the cliff; features gradually showing themselves – and this is only the quiet East side!
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| Figure 2. Approaching Lundy 2 |
It continues to wheedle its way deeper and deeper into your psyche as you walk up the cliff side to the collection of beautiful stone buildings perched on one corner of the plateau, passing the magnificent Millcombe House with its inverted roof for the collection of rain water designed by those pioneering chaps of the early C19.
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| Figure 3. Millcombe House |
You may be only 11 miles off the coast of mainland Britain, but you don’t have to be on
the island for long to make it feel like 1,100. No papers, no television, no radio in the
barn. Some were able to stay in touch with the outside world by the use of natty hand
held devices, but didn’t impose their findings out loud to the occupants of The Barn, so
one could choose to remain blissfully ‘out of touch’ if that was your preference (which
was mine and Christina’s – we were switched off, man!)
Apart from those used by the Landmark Trust employees and farmers no additional
vehicles or dogs are allowed, and the Landmark Trust limit the number of people on the island at
any one time. There is no need for cash money as the tills in the shop and pub are linked
so just a single settlement is required before you leave – like a large open plan
hotel!
Oh, and there is climbing a-plenty ranging from V Diff to E silly. If you want a list
of climbs, look in the guide book or go to a website such as http://www.climbers-club.co.uk/guidebooks/lundy.html or, better still,
visit the island yourself. This article is not a diary of my week spent there – how
boring would that be!?
But with such atmospheric places to practice our skill and art as …
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| Figure 4. Looking up the Devil’s Slide | Figure 5. Starting the Devil’s Slide |
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| Figure 6. Shade in Tha Battery | Figure 7. The Flying Buttress |
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| Figure 8. Sunset Promontory |
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| Figure 9. Arch Zawn | Figure 10. Ian and Christina on Frontspiece |
… who could possibly not want to climb there?
But, its appeal extends way beyond the climbed cliffs and far deeper than the dived wrecks lying off its rugged, boulder-strewn coast line.
All too quickly the week is over and it’s all aboard MS Oldenburg for the return crossing back to the hustle and bustle of kiss-me-quick hats and crowds of sun-burnt grokels after being allowed by this wonderful place to share a few days of its geological existence. There’s a lot less chatter this time. Admittedly it’s blowing a hooly and the shallow drafted Oldenburg is a-pitching and a-rolling like a pitching and rolling thing (witness Alex “6 bags” Harper!), but somehow I can’t help thinking the lack of chit-chat is in part attributable to the sadness of leaving – or is that just romantic twaddle?
You may feel – and justifiably so – that one is waxing lyrical over a lump of rock. Knowing that it would take a more competent wordsmith than myself to do adequate justice to this fragment of pink granite peeking its ancient head just above the surface of the water, I can only apologise for my lack of literary skills.
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| Figure 11. |
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| Figure 12. Relaxed |
But:-
IMC Roll of Honour 2006
Well folks we have Kingfishered and consumed ample quantities of curry thanks to the marvellous organisation of Carol Harbottle and our hosts for the evening, The Masha, IMC’s favourite curry house! Now it is time for the IMC’s most prestigious and indeed only award! The Lob of the Year!
Before we get down to details I suppose as has become sort of customary it might be worth mentioning some notable achievements, if that is an appropriate phrase, in the past year. Firstly and somewhat dubiously we as a club have had a record year of usage of the brilliant rescue services the we as climbing folk in Britain enjoy with Guy’s experience at Swanage and the rescue of IMC’s crack(ed) team at the Beginners Multi-pitch weekend. Fortunately, all concerned are now ok but we can be thankful for the efforts of these people who risk their lives to rescue us when it all goes “Pete Tong.” Secondly, Mervvn Lamacraft and a certain Peter Krug did not get any recorded air-time this year although there are unsubstantiated rumours that the latter took a flyer from his mountain-bike just below “The Gap“ and into Brecon A & E. And off course one should remember Mervyn’s sterling efforts of raising over £ 3,000 for East Anglian Children’s Hospices by successfully running this year’s London Marathon – it would be fair to elaborate slightly by adding this was a team effort with Mervyn enduring the pain of running the course and his good lady threatening pain if the sponsors did not cough up!
Now back to main event. The first entrants in this competition in what you will see a quite disgraceful episode of back-stabbing and counter-accusation familiar with politicians and their ilk, who preach a message of peace on earth and an end to poverty but deliver neither. This is the sort of scurrilous behaviour which should not be tolerated except that this is the only way one can get material for this award!
Anyway the location Stanage Edge on a fine and sunny September Monday. Our hero, Teena Thurgood, for he it is he, has decided to round the day off with an ascent of Via Media a VS 4c finger jamming crack. He’s psyched and ready to go having lead HVS at Lawrencefield the previous day. Pre climb assessment complete he steps confidently into the fray placing the first piece of gear and moving smoothly upwards. The second piece of gear, number 2 rock, is selected but it’s not looking good as things are getting rushed and the clip of extender and rope looks hurried. The clip is achieved and preparations for further upwards movement begin. The footwork then goes to ratshit and with an “I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming” the leader plummets from the rock to be caught safely by the gear. The climb is completed without further drama but the eagle eyed second has spotted a camera crew on the next buttress and on the way down asks if any footage of the flight was in the can. Unfortunately the young lady had been concentrating elsewhere and could not oblige. Thurgood counters with a snide attack on Mike Hams claiming that he was trying to regain his trophy with the following report of Mike on Outlook Crack (Stanage). Honestly, the depths of depravity that some people sink to! “HS 4b” says Mike “looks like a bit of a jam fest, I’ll give it a go, how hard can it be!” Up he goes – 1st cam in the crack, jam a bit more then came the somewhat muted warning “I think I be a coming orf” – he was right! About 4-6 feet of air time and some light grit rash for his troubles. But the lad got back on and had another go at it managing to place a 2nd cam before a more controlled lower off. Thurgood also had a look but backed off as it was a bit strenuous for early in the day.
And there is more as Mike follows this up with more aerial activity on Wall End Holly Tree Crack at Stanage. Another HS 4b with 3 metres of jamming crack to gain the rightward sloping ramp followed by a rather nasty off-width number behind the holly bush. The initial crack was despatched with just some mild puffing and then a nice gentle stroll along the ramp. But, now the fun begins! It was obviously giving Mike cause for thought as he made some very careful gear choices before setting of up the off-width crack. Looking good – another grunt and stuff the leg in for a thigh jam to place a BIG cam. He’s moving again – oops, no warning this time, he’s off! At least 2 metres of air time and some proper grit rash later and he’s back at the ramp after, in his words “seeing the rock move rapidly upwards”! All credit to the lad though as he regained composure and attacked the beggar with gusto to top out.
The next entrant is none other than the current holder of this title – a certain Adrian Fagg. Once again the venue is Stanage with a dubious party of Adrian and Martin Stevens heading to the Travesties Buttress/Blurter Buttress and Fate area. Martin reports Adrian and himself had a go at Ono, Duo Crack Climb, Typhoon and Overhanging Chimney. In the latter hangs a tale. In a stunning attempt to prove that his entry into last years LOTY was no fluke Adrian, who a few weeks beforehand had declined to follow Overhanging Chimney to save it for the on-sight, tied into the sharp end and had a go.
Easily up to the beak and with a pair of runners just below the roof, then into the chimney, facing left, and onto the beak. A belayer’s query about more gear got a reply to the effect of, ‘in a minute, I feel fine’. Sadly, he wasn’t fine and with his feet some 3ft above the gear Adrian decided he could fly. Well, he can, as long as it’s downwards at 9.8 metres per second per second. A fine backwards flight, ending up inverted and spread-eagled, and performed with impeccable timing just as John and Norman walked around the corner to spectate. Fortunately with more space between himself and the floor. than last time. Furthermore, his aim has improved as he failed to hit Martin whilst in rapid descent. Apart from some bruising to his back, no harm was done although pain-pills were taken and following Duo Crack Climb proved that for him the climbing weekend was over.
Our next entrant is young Mr Culverhouse who is yet another ex-winner of this award which again begs the question of where is young and new talent? I know that some young tigers employed combined tactics in trying to conquer Frensis Crack in Brimham Rocks but there was no proper airtime involved.
Anyway Steve was on this occasion was climbing with Nick Willis who reports that he was visibly stressed from his house moving not moving but was climbing well on the Saturday at Wildcat in spite of a cold and sore throat. Sunday dawned with a wild westerly blowing and rumours that Mike Hams fancied a pop at the File, VS 4C on Higgar Tor. So, he and Steve headed up to the Tor with the intention of meeting Mike Hams and Simon Chandler at the crag. Steve was feeling even worse on the Sunday morning but on the walk in it was agreed that one of them had to get on the File. Nick had attempted this route not long after he’d started climbing but New (whilst belaying him) calmly suggested he should come down and learn to jam before going up any further. Hence his suggestion to Steve that he would be leading the File as a year later he still couldn’t jam a sandwich.
So, Steve set up the Don Whillans suffer-fest, jamming confidently and placing several pieces of bomber gear, despite complaints that he couldn’t feel his hands due to the cold. However, he seemed to be moving over the crux bulge with ease, placing another hand jam higher up in the crack and smearing feet tentatively up the gritstone. But then he fell; suddenly and with absolutely no warning his hand jam popped and he peeled off bringing the system all tight and wrenching the belayer up into the air! With the confusion over the belayer found himself two metres off the ground with Steve hanging upside down and below him with his head hovering just above the ground. Steve remained very calm, and after checking how much skin had been lost, continued up the gnarly crack, sending it easily and comfortably. Clearly there are two main contenders but one should mention a couple of other escapades. There is word that a certain bearded veteran of our club had a slip off August Angie at Swanage barely worth mentioning, which off course makes it worth mentioning. The same individual upon hearing of Guy’s accident on Friends from the Deep commented it was a pity that he had ruled himself out of the running for this year’s award as he had started the season in “flying form!” This shows his fine judgement of character no more emphasised at the July multi-pitch weekend when he commented to me that there was one party not accounted for but he was happy that they were the crack team and would therefore be fine. This was at about 8.00 pm or roughly the same time that the afore-mentioned team were calling Mountain Rescue for reinforcements!
Anyway back to Guy’s flying start to the season. On an early season visit to Devon’s Dewerstone, Guy found himself confronted with one of his least favourite climbing mediums – the fist jamming crack. The offending climb at the Dewerstone has the innocuous name “Climber’s Club Direct”. The jamming crack in question splits an overhang low on the route. Martin, in the lead, succeeded in overcoming the obstacle with a few well-placed fists. Guy, following, failed to find an adequate lodgement and was soon penduluming out from under the roof. The following day the same pair were seen at Chair Ladder, Cornwall, with the same order of play, and similar results. Martin, with the advantage of 20 or so previous ascents of this Bishop’s Rib, succeeded at the crux bulge, though not without some difficulty. Guy, having made the crux move, inexplicably lost contact with the rock and was once again swinging out in space.
Fed up with all this adventure on the blunt end, Guy was determined to make amends on the sharp end at Bosigran the next day. Suicide Wall sounded like a well-named route. Pitch 3 is the crux. The move off the stance is it, dramatically positioned centre stage on this popular cliff. Historically, this 5c move was surmounted with liberal use of the belayer’s shoulder, but Guy was determined to lead it free. Two bits of marginal gear were placed, much humming and harring took place, followed by several tentative forays upwards. Then our Guy made a determined “last attempt”, and with one bound he was off, coming to rest on rope stretch just below the tiny belay ledge. All credit to our man, however a further attempt saw the obstacle overcome and the climb duly completed
Obviously there are two main contenders for this year’s award and trying to choose a winner has vexed the judges for some time now and indeed caused much mass-debate with no end result. So a choice is down to the time honoured method of choosing a winner. The method has to be the tossing of a two-headed coin. Heads it’s Steve and tails it’s Adrian and so this years winner is………… heads! Hey this year’s winner is Steve Culverhouse for his spectacular lob from The File and the simple fact that it was deemed to be unprecedented to set a precedent for the now ex President to choose the same winner for consecutive years!
Well done mate!
Wotcha folks. Hope all is going well out in reader-land. Well, the end of season
is well and truly nigh. Certainly the nights are drawing in and I was just
thinking about putting some lights on me bike last week for the ride home when I
found some scrote had gone and nicked it! So if somebody sees a dark grey, red and
white Ideal bike for sale somewhere, let me know and I will go around and make my
feelings known!
Now that I have got that out of my system let’s get on with the Prattle. As I have
noted above the summer is well and truly over but as usual I won’t be letting the
grass grow under my feet and fully intend to carry on climbing as long as me hands
can stand the cold (now that I think have got my climbing head back) and then
there are all those days in the saddle to look forward to, and hill-walking, and
even now thoughts are turning towards another Scotland trip (note the thousand
yard stare that you can’t see at this particular moment!).
There is not much on the meets calendar at the moment so please keep an eye out
for any e-mails advising of possible ad hoc trips
Looking back at the hazy dazy days of summer I will as usual try to thank the
organisers, and please forgive me if I have missed anyone out.
I think a big thanks should go to Martin Hore and Sally Southall for organising
the Beginners Multi-pitch and Beginners Follow-through Meets.
You remember July was a month of record temperatures so quite how we found
ourselves racing off the hill (or in some cases staying on the hill for
hours waiting for mountain rescue) in the pouring rain I do not know. It was
certainly a good introduction to some of the problems you might encounter on the
bigger mountain routes!
I gather the weather was much more clement on the follow-through so well done
Sally (you can organise a p***-up in a brewery!). I must not forget to thank all
the “leaders” for helping out at the various beginners meets . . . your help is
much appreciated.
Big thanks should also go to Simon Chandler for organising what I gather was a
superb week on Lundy and you will no doubt have seen an email from Martin Hore
scheduling another IMC invasion for 2009! I would like to thank Mike Hams for
trying to organise the August Bank Holiday Meet.
Furthermore, thanks should go to Steve Culverhouse for organising (and he has done
a lot of organising this year) the Swanage meet.
There were a few other trips but I can’t remember them so apologies to those
organisers.
Whilst I remember, thanks should go to all those IMCers who helped out this year’s
Hospital Abseil. I would also like to thank Adrian Fagg for presenting the first
slide show of the autumn. It was a very enjoyable evening.
Now for the tricky bit. Unlike our man at “Number 10” I have decided that it is
time to hand the reins to somebody new and I will even set a date – 16 November 2006
at the AGM. Are there any budding Gordon Browns out there raring to go?
I might as well take this opportunity, as I have already mentioned the AGM, to ask
that if you have any issues that you would like to raise then to please let me
know.
That’s all for now. As I have mentioned please keep an eye out for ad hoc meetings
and if you are thinking about going away on a particular weekend why not ask you
friends in the IMC to join you?
Take care.
Cheers
El Presidente (for the last time)
This is a slightly thinner issue than usual but no less rich for that.
The touching article from Mike Hams and the photographs from Kearton Rees
highlight one of the club’s strengths – that of helping and encouraging fledgling
climbers. This is borne out by the e-mails from some very happy attendees that
follow the ‘beginners’ and ‘follow-on’ weekends: and I can further attest to this
from hearing people at the wall sounding really fulfilled after said weekends. As
El Pres says, all those involved in the organising, instructing and generally
helping should pat themselves on the back. Well done.
Having read Fraser’s article I‘ve made a resolution to get up to Orford Ness
sooner rather than later and won’t be surprised to see other IMC bods there too.
But the meat of this issue has to be ‘The Return to Great Gully: a story of four
doughty fellows and their tribulations in Wildest Wales’. A great read with the
added twist of having the two accounts that tell the story from different
viewpoints. Excellent.
Please see From The Secretary to note the steady increase in membership-topping
last year’s total. The pattern is, apparently, standard, and it will be
interesting to watch the figures next year.
I am setting the deadline for the December issue as ‘just after The Christmas
Curry’ so that news from that occasion can be included along with any stirring
stories that come my way before then.
I look forward to hearing from you
The deadline for the next edition is: Monday 18th December 2006
e-mail to: guy@falconhurst.com or post to:
Guy Reid, Falconhurst, 27, Bath Road, Felixstowe, Suffolk IP11 7JN.
Two more mystery routes for you. Can you identify these?
Route 1
Route 2
This months articles can be seen on separate webpages by clicking the following links.
For other articles see the articles index.
By Guy Reid
Congratulations to Steve Culverhouse who was the first person to send correct answers to June’s crossword competition.
We have another crossword for you in this edition, and again the winner will receive a mystery prize so send your answers by email.
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By Simon Chandler – October 2006
The response to my music competition in the last newsletter was disappointing; however, the only person who did send me their answers
thoroughly deserves to be the winner. Mike Turner scored 20 out of a possible 22 points! One point was scored for
identifying the artist, and one point for the title of the track. Mike couldn’t identify the third tune, but got all the rest.
Amazing!
Here are the answers:
With numbers 2 and 11 the climbing link is in the lyrics.
Current membership is 125, of which 41 are new members, 78 are renewals from last
year, 6 are returners from earlier years, and 14 are under-18. 33 of last year’s
111 members did not renew this year.
Our YHA group membership has been renewed to 30 September 2007. The IMC membership
number is 018-7652217 and can be used by all IMC members when making bookings.
Paper correspondence received:
All enquiries and correspondence should be directed to the Secretary.
Mervyn Lamacraft,Tel: 01394 277050 or send email to mervynlamacraft@hotmail.com.
For a list of committee members, see the contacts page
Please put a note in your diaries that the AGM will be on the evening of 16th November
2006 in the Dove Street Inn
(formally “The Dove”), 76 St. Helens St, Ipswich.
See our Club Meets page for up-to-date details.
This scheduled list is suggested as a framework for meets in the coming
months and to help get dates into your diaries; however, we are looking
for volunteers to co-ordinate some of the events and for ideas of where
people would like to go. Please contact the meets coordinator if you are interested in helping to organise any of the
above or to make suggestions for future meets.
A quick reminder regarding attendance: Please note that anyone
attending an official Ipswich Mountaineering Club meet must be a
member of the Ipswich Mountaineering Club or some other BMC
affiliated club. A “meet” being defined as any trip advertised on
the website or newsletter or announced/advertised via the e-mail
facility (i.e. members@ipswich-m-c.co.uk).
The trip report goes something like this.
Friday. Had a great day climbing with Mervyn at Cyrn Las on Main Wall (HS).
Saturday. Got stuck on the last pitch of Great Gully (VD) and had to be rescued
overnight.
Our previous decision to retreat half way had proved to be wise. The pitch that had
seemed difficult when wet before had been straightforward this time on dry rock, but
there was a lot more of the same to go.
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| Typical conditions in Great Gully (click on image to view in Flickr) |
All went well until the penultimate pitch, whereupon the rain started. My confidence
evaporated in the face of polished wet footholds and the simultaneous disappearance of
any protection. The delay caused by my insistence on needing a top rope was something
that we could ill-afford. Nevertheless, Mike did the necessary and Andy belayed me up
what persisted in feeling quite hard even without the worry of being a long way above
gear. Confidence ebbed further as Mike struggled with the crux in the depths of the
cave above. At one point he seemed ready to give up but one last heroic effort
overcame the problem. When eventually my turn came, I climbed bwith interestb up to
reach the sling at the right end of the ledge, grabbed hold of it with both hands and
took a rest. Being unable to see anything other than the sling, I pulled hard as I
shuffled my feet up the wet rock b one big effort, the weight of two rucksacks pulling
back and needing extra force b yes, I can do this, the sling digging into my handsb&
At which point, there was a bang that to me sounded like a gunshot and I flew
backwards and down. I registered that there was no connection between my hands and the
rock and waited for the gully bed to meet my backside. Instead, and to my surprise,
the rope came tight and my right knee banged into the rock just below.
As Mike said, I had let go of the sling. At least, the sling had jumped and presumably
snagged again, the shock loading of which pulled it out of my hands without any
awareness on my part. The fact that it had only slipped so far then caught meant that
logically it wouldnbt come off again unless I were to pull outwards again rather than
down. That may have been a rational conclusion, but my brain had at this point
abandoned all connection with the rational world and I now looked up at the dimly
visible sling lurking in the corner of the roof and convinced myself that it was held
there by nothing that I could trust. Probably the only time that Ibd pulled on gear in
my climbing career to date had led to the first time that Ibve felt really frightened.
I rubbed my knee and restored circulation to my hands while deciding that I couldnbt
go back up. Itbs worth noting that I could have inspected the sling by temporarily
clipping to the static hanging rope that had been left there, if I were that worried,
but that would have involved thought on my part.
My sudden discovery that I had apparently lost the ability to prusik up the rope and
that the belay and exit above were such that hoisting wasnbt possible without some
complex rope-work, was a blow, best summarised by Mikebs b Oh Buggerb . I had apparently
also lost all ability to think by this stage.
Several hours later, and by which time I was shaking continuously with the cold, the
Mountain Rescue arrived, in the form of Kim, the lightest of their party on the end of
a long rope. My chattering teeth were apparently a good sign, as itbs when you stop
shivering that youbre in trouble. We spent a fair while waiting, as all radio
communication had ceased. Eventually, we were hauled up, mostly hanging in mid-air for
10 metres or so, then up the rest of the gully a few feet at a time on a nine to one
hoist.
I can only praise those volunteers that give up their spare time (and often their work
time) to help others. Once theybre on the scene, they take over completely b you just
do as youbre told, and are glad to do so. They took impressively good care of me,
helping me to warm up a bit, then leading the way off the mountain in what were
atrocious conditions. I was practically blown off my feet several times, yet the wind
had relented from earlier in the evening. The rain had eased to a heavy downpour while
I was still in the gully and thankfully had reduced again to continuous rain while we
descended. Nevertheless, the whole team remained cheerful throughout, without a hint
of the grumpiness that would have been entirely excusable and that Ibd certainly have
had if Ibd been called out that night..
You can read about an earlier attempt at Great Gully, and
another account of this rescue.
Mid-summer came and with it a prolonged spell of hot, dry weather. As to near to
perfect conditions for another attempt at Great Gully on Craig yr Ysfa as we were
likely to get. [Click here to read an account of the first attempt – Ed]
I teamed up with Andy Hansler whilst Mervyn teamed up with Adrian. We got a reasonably
early start and by 11.30 we were at the bottom of the route, fed, geared up and ready
to go. We scrambled the first 150 feet or so and roped up for the first rock step.
This was quickly surmounted and all went well with the following pitches, including
the pitch that stopped us on our first attempt.
As the day wore on the weather slowly deteriorated becoming cloudier with occasional
light rain. This wasn’t a problem until the penultimate pitch up a steep, polished
chimney. I led it in the dry but a little while later when Adrian was leading it had
become a bit wet and a top rope had to be dropped. So, we ended up at about 5.30 with
all four of us 8 pitches up, facing the crux Great Cave pitch with slowly worsening
weather. Hmm, this is beginning to sound like an epic in the making.
|
| Typical conditions in Great Gully (click on image to view in Flickr) |
The way up wasn’t exactly obvious and we spoke about retreating but decided continuing
up would be quicker overall. Taking a few steps into the dark recesses of the cave
showed a line of sloping and nearly dry holds up the wall, leading up to a chockstone
and a traverse out to the cave mouth. Handily, there was also a rope loop and other
tat for protection.
I stepped up to the holds and clipped the rope loop and tat but almost immediately
wondered where the handholds were. Nothing for it but to pull on the gear. Now where
do I put my feet? This was repeated several times, falling off each time. By removing
my rucksack I was better balanced and able to place a nut and clip a sling for aiding
on. It was a precarious position but it gained enough height to place a higher sling
and somehow wriggle, squirm and thrutch until I was sitting on top of the chockstone,
panting like a steam train.
I sat for a few minutes, regaining my breath and composure before tackling the
traverse to the cave mouth. The footholds were large and obvious but it required a
squat to get under an overhang. Would there be protection? What were the handholds
like? As it turned out the hand holds were good enough but there was no protection, so
it was very much a test of nerve. I’d soon squirmed onto another chockstone at the
cave mouth and into howling wind and blowing rain. Brighter and really rather better
than the confines of the cave. I was soon anchored and ready to bring Andy up. Using
much the same combined tactics, but with extra swearing, Andy soon joined me on the
belay.
Having only clipped one rope, Andy was able to clip the other and so protect Mervyn’s
ascent. And so I brought up Mervyn with much huffing and puffing and a certain amount
of swearing, leaving only Adrian and my rucksack to be brought up before we could
scramble out to the top. Adrian looked at the now glistening holds and gave it a bit
of ’What the hell do I do here?’ Gear pulling and aiding soon commenced but whilst
pulling hard on the sling around the chockstone, the sling slipped and Adrian let go,
banging into the cave wall before ending up dangling on the rope.
At this point Adrian felt unable to make another go at the pitch. Oh bugger. We pulled
up the rucksacks before rigging the ropes to attempt an assisted hoist, but with ropes
running over rock there was too much friction for that to work. And despite having
succeeded at prussiking in the past, Adrian was unable to do so now, when it really,
really mattered. Double bugger. By now it was something like 7.30 and the weather was
getting worse, the cloud having dropped to below the top of the mountain. We had
earlier discussed calling mountain rescue but now there was no choice. Mervyn
scrambled up to the top of the gully and made the call. Thank goodness for mobile
phones! It was then a waiting game. There were several calls back to say ‘We’re
dealing with it’, then ‘We’re 2.5 hours away’ and finally ‘We’re 10 or 15 minutes
away’. Having spent most of the intervening time on the belay when the last call came
through I decided it was time for me to pack up and scramble out. With a shove from
Andy over a difficult section I was on the top and could hear Mervyn shouting ‘Over
here, over here’ but with no light he couldn’t guide them in. Fortunately, I did have
a headtorch and in a few minutes the first of the rescue party were with us.
Unfortunately, this left Andy a few feet from the top of the gully unable to overcome
the step that he had helped both Mervyn and me to get over. Had there been a few more
minutes before the rescue party arrived, I’m sure we would have found an anchor and
dropped a rope to get Andy to the top.
They quickly took over getting Mervyn and me into a more sheltered position. They soon
established that there were 2 still in the gully before bundling us into a bothy
shelter. We made ourselves as comfortable as we could whilst outside there was much
talking and flashing of lights. At some point, Mervyn’s mobile rings and lo and behold
it’s Martin Hore on the other end, asking after us. A few minutes later, someone pops
their head into the bothy and introduces themselves with a cheery ‘Hello, my name’s
Chris and I’ll be taking you down shortly. In the meantime, here’s a flask of coffee.’
Whilst we were reasonably comfortable in the bothy shelter the rescue team set up to
extract Andy and Adrian. Andy was just a few feet from top and was soon with us. The
three of us were then walked down to the road, loaded in a Landrover and driven to the
MR base close to the foot of Tryfan. No idea what time we arrived there, maybe 1am. At
the MR base we were loaned dry clothes, fed with soup, bread and bacon butties and
plied with all the tea we could drink.
We worked out from conversations and descriptions that the team on the mountain set up
a pulley system and lowered a man down to Adrian before hauling both of them out. Some
of the team returned about 2.30 – 3am, and then a dishevelled Adrian walked in with
the remaining team members at about 3.30am. We finally left the MR base at about
4.30am, were dropped off at the car before getting back to the campsite around 4.45am.
I really couldn’t recommend the route, although I understand Andy is keen for another
attempt.
The final word must go the Ogwen Valley MR team who were fantastic with 15 of them
giving up their Saturday night to rescue us. A donation from all four of us was
subsequently made to help them continue to provide their service.
So what could we have done differently? Well, given that the weather was forecast to
deteriorate during the afternoon we could have decided to leave Great Gully for
another day. Having got to the crux in deteriorating conditions we could all have
abseiled down rather than go on. Similarly, having got into difficulty, we could all
have abseiled down and walked out. Alternatively, we could have tied loops into
another rope, tied it off to an anchor and dropped it to Adrian for him to try aiding
up. Quite why we didn’t think of these options at the time, I really don’t know.