The return to Lundy, was it still as good?

The three year wait was finally over – we were once more off to Ilfracombe, eager
with anticipation for the IMC 2009 Lundy trip. At the risk of being branded a
lazy so-and-so, I refer the reader to my article written after the 2006 trip
The Magic of Lundy.

The BIG question – would this tiny island be able to weave its spell a second
time?

The climbing was brilliant with only a few repeats and plenty of new
cliffs/routes visited. Great Lundy adventures were had with some tough pitches
culminating in a prusik escape from a wet Hot Rod in the intermittent light
rain! Other memorable routes include Alouette (* S 4a) Shamrock (*** VS4c,4a,4c)
for the right reasons and Solitaire View (* VS 5a ma!) for the wrong reasons.

We also explored the island a bit more, including a walk up to the North Light
and right back down the east side of the island, taking time to sit and watch
the seals watching us.

The answer to the BIG question – an emphatic “Yes”. It took a little while to hit
me this visit, but I put that down to the pace of life immediately prior to the
visit rather than to the island having lost any of its Magic. Once the Magic got
me again it was just as compelling as I remembered, and by the time it came to
leave it was with the same mixture of emotions and a hankering to return before
the usual triennial anniversary.

Jeremy discoveres the joys of Soft Southern Sandstone

Let’s face it, Harrison’s Rocks isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. All the climbs are
top roped, many of the popular routes are worn smooth and it can get very busy.

But sometimes it just isn’t possible to go climbing for the entire weekend.
Sometimes the Peaks seem just a little too far away for a day. And when all you
have is a twenty five metre rope and a harness but you’ve still got to climb
something; then Harrison’s Rocks, less than two hours from Ipswich, rise up the
list of preferred locations like a cork in a bottle of champagne.

On a sunny crisp Saturday in mid October Dan, Ala and I found ourselves in the
aforementioned predicament and set off for the Rocks. And what a great day we
had.

I think the three of us took it in the spirit of “outdoor practise” and the very
fact that it is all top roped meant that we moved quickly from climb to climb,
therein getting lots of practise.

Harrison’s Rock is soft sandstone and many of the faces are covered in a very
fine film of sand making it feel as if you have a million tiny ball bearings
beneath every hand and foot. Consequently, holds can be difficult to maintain so
balance and precision is needed if you don’t wish to find yourself sliding
slowly but surely sideways, down and eventually off.

Traversing is particularly difficult on these soft rocks and Zig Zag (4c) as the
name suggests provided a test of sideways moving skills and balance. Ala deftly
climbed to the top but Dan and I were found wanting at the first time attempt
when we both came off in slow motion.

We started the day though on Long Layback (4c), a terrific climb recommended by
Martin and my particular favourite of the day. Funnily enough it is one long
layback and definitely a climb to enjoy as a lay back, although climbable using
other (perhaps unorthodox) techniques as Dan and Ala proved.

We moved from North to South during the day and next stop was Isolated Buttress.
Yes you have guessed it. Isolated Buttress is a buttress which is isolated. It
provides about a dozen great climbs. A considerable inconvenience however of
climbing on the Buttress is the descent off it. Getting to the top, I discovered
to my horror that the buttress it is a little more isolated than it really
should be. A very large step or small to leap is required across a ravine where
a slip would probably mean certain death. Other than that the descent is fine.
In the prosaic spirit of naming at Harrison’s, I think it should be re-named the
Inconveniently Isolated Buttress Across the Ravine of Probably Certain Death.

We did two climbs on the buttress; The Isolated Buttress Climb (4b) and the
strength sapping Birchden Corner (5b). The Corner is a bulging arête with no
resting points and is a real test of endurance, a very satisfying move left just
below the top makes the effort all worthwhile.

The final highlight of the day was Unclimbed Wall (5b), which for all we know
does remain unclimbed. A sheer smooth face with few good anythings. We all got
to the top but agreed that we all took so long and spent so much time dangling
on the rope recovering strength that it couldn’t really count.

The rocks weren’t busy, the sun was shining and other climbers were friendly. We
shared ropes and luncheon with teams from London, Lithuania and Russia. All in
all a great day out. Not everyone’s cup of tea, but as far as I am concerned a
bottle of champagne for Harrison’s please.

A new member finds hazards not usually mentioned in the guidebook

I know what you’re thinking, “What’s the use of searching for dragons? All the
dragons were slain long ago, in the olden days. You won’t find any dragons now.”

Well my friend, allow me to contradict you, for I have been in the presence of
dragons and I know them to be alive and as fearsome as ever. What is more I know
where they live; on Carreg Wastad, the eastern wall of the Llanberis Pass, in a
grey, mysterious and distant land they call Eryri Cymru. (Just off the A5.)

Three of Ipswich Mountaineering Club’s elite three man teams had been assembled.
The lead team Clare, Ala and Jeremy and support teams of Phil with Adrian and
Cathy with Eddie.

The great wall of the Carreg towered above us, its top lost in a swirling mist.
The rock was dark and wet. I stretched out my arm and with my open palm touched
it and trembled. Yes, dank and cold, but something else besides; I touched
eternity. I heard the rock on my hand moan, “I have always been here and will
always remain here. The mist, the dragons, have always been here and will always
remain here. You too have always been here, waiting. Now it is your time. Go.” I
also heard another voice that day. “Come on, don’t just stand there, flake the
rope,” it was Clare.

And so with vorpal swords, nuts, cams, two 50m half ropes and a winkle picker we
set forth in search of dragons.

Clare was magnificence itself, making light where there was darkness in the
opening chimney. A right to left traverse followed, and the first pitch was
vanquished.

“Ah, ha. I was right, there are no dragons,” I hear you cry.

But hold my friend, for there are some things I did not tell you. You cannot just
go in search of dragons, for dragons won’t simply let themselves be found. The
dragon will choose the day and it will choose the ground on which to reveal
himself.

On this day, Sunday 5th July, the ground was a small narrow ledge on Carreg
Wastad. As we clung to the rock, huddled together there was a terrifying roar
and out of the mist emerged the beast; the mighty rib itself, hanging in the air
as if suspended by the very squall above.

Drawing breath to match fire with fire, Clare once more led on. Ala too set about
the dragon. Momentarily silhouetted , she then was over and ascending, leaving
me alone with the ancient reptile.

As behind a cloud the sun still shines, so too are brave men to faint hearts.

“Dragon, rib? Rib, dragon? You are but one! ” I cried.

So to the echo of my battle cry I went forth upon the rib of Crackstone Rib on
Carreg Wastad in the land of Eryri Cymru.

A sea cliff, route finding, commitment, adventure…

Ian Thurgood – July 2009

“We really must do Blue Sky – the 3 star, 2 pitch classic VS at Saddle Head”,
says I.

So, we turned up in the morning on an incoming neap tide with high water due
around 13:40hrs – clearly not the time to abseil into Blue Sky, but we knew
that. Plenty of time to tick off a few warm up routes off the non-tidal ledge –
beautiful!

Now, picture the scene. Come mid-afternoon the tide was very much on the ebb, so
nothing for it but to get that ab line down and do the business. We knew it was
a neap tide so the platform from where the first pitch truly starts was never
going to be exposed, but if you read the guide books, they all say you can ab
down to a ledge about 5m above the high tide line and not take anything away
from the whole experience – there, what could possibly go wrong!

The first pitch is described in the guide book as following the corner from the
platform (or 5m ledge in this case) then moving right on to a wall to a cave and
ledge stance – VS4a. Having spoken to some lads earlier in the day after they
topped out on Blue Sky, I followed their beta and threw the ab rope down the
left hand side (looking out to sea) of the buttress, as they said you abseil
past the first stance. Well, I don’t know if we were just too far left or what,
and I did ab past a small cave and ledge stance to what could, I guess, be
euphemistically described as a ledge above high water line, but the first pitch
that followed was not as described nor was it anywhere near VS4a!

Having got down to the aforementioned un-ledge (I did manage to place one No.3
nut to attach the belayer) – not before noticing, as I was abseiling, that the
end of the rope was drifting a good 15m out to sea. So I dragged it out of the
water before it could get itself wrapped around any submerged rocks and
continued to abseil with one hand whilst holding and paying out soggy coils of
rope with the other! I radioed to Christina that the ab line was free.
Walkie-talkies on sea cliffs – an absolute flippin’ god send I tell ya.
Christina started abbing down and as she did so the ebbing neap tide decided it
wanted to have some fun with us and push the waves just that little bit higher
up the cliff – resulting in the inevitable salt water rinse – 3 times!! You look
like King Canute – or at least that’s what it sounded like Christina was saying
to me, but with all the noise from the seas crashing around and below us it was
difficult to be certain!

Christina got half way between the espied cave and ledge stance and a slightly
damp around the edges Ian before making the decision that further descent was
inadvisable. Trouble is, the foot ledge she was dangling near was not suitable
as a belay – a sloping ledge and bulging wall coupled with only one piece of
protection. So, I decided to climb up to Christina without placing gear but
using a sling prusik round the ab rope as my leader placed protection.*
Fortunately the climbing was pretty straightforward so I was soon standing next
to Christina, whereupon, as Fagin would say, we reviewed the situation. Having
reviewed, it was decided that this really wasn’t a good place to set up a dodgy
belay! So, Christina stayed where she was connected to a No.6 nut and the abseil
rope whilst I transferred my prusik to the ab rope above her and carried on
climbing using the ab rope as pro. I carried on climbing, that is until
prevented by an absolutely desperate move out of a lovely secure corner onto a
wall to the right – gotta be British 5b/5c in anyone’s money! I know that
because I was unable to make the move without pulling the prusik really tight
and hand over handing up the ab rope for a few feet – horrible! Not to mention
the admiring audience from their nice dry, flat, non-tidal ledge round the
corner – no round of applause though ☹. Anyway, I had got to the cave and ledge
area we passed on the abseil down, which now seemed very small for 2 people and
2 ropes. But, this is where we would have to stay as Christina would have to
follow the line of the abseil rope, due to the fact that I would be belaying her
on said rope – yes, we still hadn’t flaked out the climbing ropes at this stage.
I managed to find two OK gear placements to anchor myself, flake out the rope I
was carrying (what a relief to finally get that weight off my back) and tie
myself onto the climbing end. All went well until Christina reached the horrible
move right. Bear in mind that not only was Christina climbing with 50m of 8.6mm
rope tied to her back, she was also tied in along the ab rope as the loose end
was soaking wet, so she had the added weight of several metres of 10.5mm sports
rope hanging off her waist loop! Not only was it a horrible, difficult move, but
I couldn’t take her on a tight rope as it would pull her away from the corner.
Eventually, after much investigation of alternatives, Christina stepped out of
the corner on to as tight a rope as I could reasonably give her and by a process
of combined tactics (including huffing and swearing) she arrived at the ‘stance’
– and was able to sit in the small cave to regain some composure!

After a little breather we flaked out the second rope, much to Christina’s
relief, tied on, and I set off to find the second pitch. I was not sure that the
stance we were at was the correct one, so I moved up and left of our stance to a
much larger, and I have to say more people friendly, cave and ledge stance –
damn! The route went up the corner from this stance then right across a short
wall under some overhangs. Looking up at the rightwards traverse from the
stance, the angle of viewing makes it look desperate, but once there, it is an
absolute gem. A flake running at hand height with positive holds all the way
along it’s length, coupled with a fantastic break at foot height (suitable for
the tall or the vertically challenged) made this one of the most pleasant
traverses I have ever come across – the only trouble being that it was over all
too quickly. On exiting the traverse, you are right out there on the arête
enjoying the most stunning climbing position with easy, protectable climbing to
finish. A pitch that deserves all of the 3 stars it is rightly given. If the
second pitch is as good as this what must the correct first pitch be like?

The belay was easy – just use the ab rope anchors! So I made safe and radioed
down to Christina to start climbing.

“ Shall I pull the ab rope up to this stance?” asked Christina

“ No, there are a couple of girls wanting to use it while we finish climbing.”
Replied Ian

“Ooh, hang on, where does this go?” said Girl 1

“Down to Blue Sky.” I replied

“ Oh, no, I don’t want to do Blue Sky” said Girl 2 running away!

By which time Christina had begun climbing, so the ab rope was left hanging and
coiled in a nice neat pile (we hoped!) way down at the first un-ledge I was at
about 2.5 hours ago! Christina made short work of the fabulous pitch – for those
that know Christina prepare to be shocked – she enjoyed the traverse!! – and
appeared on the arête wearing that smile that only a happy climber can wear.

As Christina started sorting out the climbing ropes, I stayed anchored in and
began tentatively pulling up the abseil rope. I knew I had untied the stopper
figure of eight so that wouldn’t catch on any rock. All was going to plan until
………. uh-oh resistance, the rope is stuck! If only those girls had got their
bearings upon arrival and I hadn’t stopped Christina from pulling it up to the
first stance. Luckily, letting out a bit of slack and gently teasing it back up,
the rat’s nest responsible for the scare appeared, swiftly followed by the end
of the rope and the end of our Pembroke adventure.

Fun and adventurous as it was, half a route is not the full tick, so we’ll be
back! Not so much sayonara Aozora (goodbye Blue Sky) as Ciel à bientôt Bleu
(until we meet again Blue Sky!)

* Editor’s note: Ian is well aware that a prusik isn’t safe in the case of a fall
onto it. So, if you didn’t know that, please don’t get the idea that it’s a
recommended method of self-protection. If, on the other hand, you did, then
you’ll know that it’s up to you to weigh-up the pros and cons according to the
particular case.

Pete and Louise find other challenges

Louise Krug – July 2009

The weather forecast for last weekend was grim – certainly grim up North where the planned IMC meet was to be. After scanning the forecast all week we decided at the last moment to head for Swanage – not to climb as it’s a bit too scary for us – but with bikes and walking boots and an intention just to get out and do something whatever the weather.

We set off mid-morning on Friday, which is clearly not early enough to avoid the bulk of the London escapee traffic. Still we were able to get a pitch in Tom’s Field and headed off for a short walk down to the sea. The ground was muddy chalk and extremely sticky. By the time we reached the shore, we were both modelling mud sculptures of snow shoes – much heavier I suspect than the original! We headed back a different route, which was good because it went past a barn that we could shelter in as the rain pelted down!

Saturday dawned much brighter so we set off on the bikes. We had one bike route gleaned from a back issue of MBR. Although it officially started in Corfe Castle, the route passes within a few hundred metres of the camp site, so we joined it there on the Priest’s Way. It’s a lovely ride through very pretty countryside, mostly off road. After an hour of so we ended up at Old Harry
(famous tourist spot). I lost some of the fun as the cycle track was heading fast towards the cliff edge so I pulled up short and walked the last bit till I got round the bend! Then a 3km road section (quiet) before a big old pull up to the Purbeck ridge. I walked a lot of that as well- I was no slower than Pete who rode it all and it was a lot less effort! Then another delightful section along the ridge ending with a sweet (fast as you want but not scary) section down towards Corfe. Here we deviated from the route description and used back roads and bridleways to join up with the route a little way out of Corfe. This was slightly longer, but avoided a long section of main road. Next began the grimmest section. Most of the route is rideable by most people (a long blue rather than red for those used to MTB grades) but not this section. Steep uphill, rubble and nettles. We both pushed/hauled the bikes, and needed a sweetie break in the middle to keep up going! Then we reached what should have been delightful gentle downhill single-track. Only it started to pour down, and chalk is slippier than limestone when wet! Still, it brightened up after about 1/2hr and we decided to make the short diversion to St Anstells head, to give us time to dry out! Stunning views and the weirdest church I have ever seen. All
that then remained was to find the Priest’s Way and campsite again. At this point I noticed some steering trouble. I put it down to tiredness so we stopped for another snack. Picked the bike up to go again and the front wheel remained lying down. Easily fixed (phew) and we finally  collapsed in the tent.

The next day was very windy, so we were happy to leave the bikes and set off on foot. We walked through the Lulworth ranges (military ground, sometimes shut), along the coast to Lulworth Cove and onto Durdle Door before returning over the higher ground. Extremely pretty, grand coast line, dramatic in the high winds. Extremely tiring for a coast walk – dropping to sea level and then rising to between 150 and 200m a total of 6 times. We could have bagged a Munro with that! And we missed the opportunity to drop down a final time to the ghost village of Tyneham, abandoned during the second world war.

And then it was 6pm and time to return home. The travelling there – round London – makes it a relatively hard place to get to given how close it is, but for non-climbers there certainly is plenty of interest. All the footpaths and (almost!) all the bridleways we encountered were well maintained, and well signposted. The scenery is fantastic and you still get a good deal of exercise even though nothing is terrible high! There is a (serious level) climbing trip planned for the 19th/20th September, but I would seriously recommend it also to non-climbers. For the record, the Lulworth Ranges should be open that weekend.

Finally, on no occasion did we make it to the famed Compasses pub, being too scared of the rain on Friday and too tired on Saturday.

On French Guides

Norman goes to the Alps

Norman Smith – August 2009

Let’s face it , the French can be a pain in the bum. They smoke vile smelling cigarettes, take interminably long lunch breaks and delight in forcing Les Anglais to try and resurrect their O level French.

So it was with some trepidation then that I agreed to hire a French guide for a
week’s climbing in the Alps this summer. My aim? To reacquaint myself – after a
twenty five year gap – with what Alpine climbing is all about..

First appearances, however were not encouraging. My guide was called Pascal. And
yes, he insisted on smoking pungent little roll ups, including while climbing (a
la Don Whillans.) And yes his English was only rather more lamentable than my
French. And yes, he thought he was God’s gift to women.

But apart from that….well, he was brilliant and I can’t recommend French guides
enough.

Here’s why .

When the weather is lousy in Chamonix, the natural recourse of most Brit climbers
and their guides is to retreat to a nearby bar and bemoan their fate. Pascal
however seemed to have an instinctive knowledge of where to go to get some
climbing done, even when the weather was dodgy. So when it was cloudy and wet in
Cham he took us through to Italy to climb Gran Paradiso. And the weather ?
Absolutely brilliant.

Second if you’ve been in a French Alpine hut you’ll know the Hundred Years War
never really ended. Turn up for breakfast in the dawn light and it’s every man
for himself. Frankly, you’ve got about as much chance of getting some quick
service as Josephine had of Napoleon.. However, arrive with old Pascal by your
side and suddenly you’re at the front of the queue. Talk about preferential
treatment. Likewise if you want to get a nice hut bedroom all to yourself
instead of being dumped in the snoring inferno of one of the main dormitories,
then a French guide is the answer.. As for the climbing. Well, as you’d expect
French guides tend to be an inspiration. But what’s really good about them is
their attitude. They’re really not that big on Health and Safety. Or put another
way they’re prepared to let you fail. They don’t just heave you up on a tight
rope. Instead they insist you lead, route find, set up the belay points and
generally make a complete hash of things. It’s not just a lot more fun but it is
the only way to really learn about Alpine climbing

Oh, and one last thing that I found particularly refreshing about French guides
is that they have a healthy disregard for the high tech gear Stasi who seem to
thrive in Britain. Pascal climbed in a pair of old cords and what looked like
gardening gloves. He even expressed some admiration for my ageing and rusty ice
axe.

On the downside ? Well, he did insist on trying to rescue every female climber
who got into trouble. But hey, he’s French.

In the Beginning

Jeremy’s first taste of climbing at the beginners’ weekend

Jeremy Hall – August 2009

Across a frightful chasm I saw that there protruded from the rain-polished slab
of rock, one very small rust red nodule.

I prepared myself to undertake what I knew would be an irrecoverable shift in my
balance left to right to the very extent of my stride and I marked again the
nodule. Had it shrunk? For now it was really no more than a blemish.

A breath, a glance, and then, without being aware that I had moved at all I was
across. The way to the top was unlocked. Breathless but triumphant I re-joined
my leader, Martin S, at the summit.

So it was, at Baslow Edge on the beginners weekend in May, one of the first moves
I ever made, on what was my first ever day climbing rocks. And in the company of
Martin, much more was to come. Corner Route, Curbar Cracks, Cracked Wall,
Mauvais Pas, Shandy, Rum and Pep; through showers and sunshine and my failing
strength, Martin’s re-joiner ever “let’s keep chipping away”, we climbed and
climbed and climbed them all. And just when I thought I could climb no more, a
great hail storm broke above us. Surely now, the rocks would be drenched and we
could retreat with honour intact. But no, as my indomitable companion observed,
the hail was only bouncing off the rocks, and soon we climbed anew.

Actually I didn’t quite make it up Cracked Wall (HS 4a) despite there apparently
being loads of really large hand holds and great foot holds. I think it’s fair
to say that a difference of opinion over the abundance, size and usefulness of
holds began to emerge. Co-incidentally I found myself on the same side of this
particular debate when the topic was re-visited a few weeks later several
hundred feet above Llanberis pass.

Having survived and even prospered under Martin’s excellent instruction on day
one, so it was we went to Birchen Edge on the Sunday. Sail Chimney and Trafalgar
Wall, a solo on the Gang Plank and on Handy Crack a lead and fall. My first ever
placement saved me, but a lob was recorded. In my defence it should be said that
the rock was very slippery, rendering any attempt at this difficult graded climb
almost impossible – wouldn’t you say Martin?

As the rain became heavier we joined Andy, Caroline and others in offering words
of encouragement to Tom, a fellow beginner, whom was in a tricky situation half
way up a chimney unable to advance or retreat. Eventually after a brilliantly
executed abseil from Tom, gear retrieval from Andy and belay from Emma it was
off to the pub.

Al, Maddy and I headed back to Ipswich exchanging tales of daring do. The next
day I reflected that mountaineering in general and rock climbing in particular
is a terrifying pastime. By Tuesday I had convinced myself that I would never do
something as ridiculous ever again, and by Wednesday I had signed up for the
beginners’ multi-pitch.

Friday 03/07/2009 to Sunday 05/07/2009

Andy Hansler – August 2009

The weekend got to a very early (04:00hrs) and somewhat damp start as Adrian and
I charged up to Llanberis, as it was still raining, unusual for N. Wales I’ll
concede. We wandered into Pete’s Eats for a cuppa & some nourishment. This was
followed by a bit of gratuitous gear fondling action and the pitching of our
tents at the campsite.

Not all was lost as we took a decision to give Idwal slabs a go; it stopped
raining only to start again (several times). But thankfully Adrian’s optimism
scared the foul weather away as he declared something along the lines of “it’s
last bad bit before it turns good”, and it did.

We had a very nice afternoon whizzing up Ordinary Route (Diff), anything but
ordinary, a very nice route. Next we assaulted Lazarus (Severe, 4a) which saw
Adrian dispatch the 2nd pitch in fine style. This was topped with The Arête
(VDiff) some scrambling and nice walk back passing under Cneifion Arête and
dropping down the far side of the Sub-Cneifion Rib. The walk off was completed
in daylight hours and no head torches were in anyway harmed during the days
activities. We then retired in good style to the pub for some grub.

Saturday started with, you’ll never guess it, rain! Steve prepared the battle
plans and the teams were mustered. Dan & Joe got me (what crimes had they
committed in a past life) and as we didn’t ‘ave a car we yomped off down the
Llanberis pass savouring every last drop of rain.

We then spent some “quality” time sheltering under the Cromlech boulders, after
several false alarms it stopped raining long enough for us to kid ourselves it
would been fine and off we stomped and slithered up to Dinas Cromlech. After
deciding Cenotaph Corner in the wet was just so yesterday we opted for a more
challenging route… Flying Buttress in big boots, Dan didn’t seem convinced
about the big boots bit and mentioned his rock shoes at least once before
starting.

I got to the top of pitch 1, thought “arr, the rocks almost dry”, splatter,
splatter, right on cue it started to rain. Joe led the second, third and fourth
pitches. However Joe encountered a wee bit of rope drag as the fourth pitch had
”grown” to include the fifth pitch. As a special treat Dan was given the final
chimney pitch which was good to watch, as despite an earlier declaration that he
didn’t use knees, Joe and I were convinced we saw some being thrown at the route
in wild abandon, and yes it rained during this pitch as well. Once again the IMC
membership made it off the crag in daylight hours. Wow; two days running.

Sunday started with much better weather and pretty much the same teams, we headed
out to Carreg Wastad where I wasted no time in selecting a local sandbag (a
habit I’m keen to break), The Crevice (VS, 4c – guidebook grade), the first
pitch looked OK, and the guide book claims no technical grade, so we thought
this would be a pitch for Dan to lead, sometime later and several pauses for
thought Dan made it to the top; after seconding this pitch I would give it VS 4c
any day, good lead Dan. Then we got to the “strenuous chimney” apparently “folk
often get stuck here for hours”. An overhanging, squeeze- chimney with good
holds all in the wrong places, VS 4c, like ‘ell, I would guess HVS – E1, 5b/5c.
After I had retreated with the family name in tatters Joe launched himself at it
with bags of enthusiasm, but soon ground to halt. Comments like “oooohh”,
“arrrghh” and what must be a potential future IMC classic “my torso is too big”
along with a number of miscellaneous grunts and frowns.

Dan opted not to try this pitch, apparently he made this decision when my
language turned blue and, as he described it, I started to use “power grunts”.
Joe hadn’t done anything to change his mind.

Right on cue everyone else turned up to watch us being repulsed by this fiendish
Welsh route. At least Dan enjoyed the abseil so it wasn’t a total loss. And I
had the injured arm excuse to use, which I did unashamedly.

We rounded the day off with a bit of dirty bouldering which saw Joe send the
classic’s, The Ramp *** (V1 / font 5) and Ramp Central * (V2 / font 5+).

In brief a good weekend with good company and umm, good(?) weather.