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’

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!

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.

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 …

The Devil’s Slide

Figure 4. Looking up the Devil’s Slide	Figure 5. Starting the Devil’s Slide

Flying Buttress

Figure 6. Shade in Tha Battery	Figure 7. The Flying Buttress

Sunset Promontory

Figure 8. Sunset Promontory

Arch Zawn

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.

It truly is a magical

Figure 11.

and relaxing place

Figure 12. Relaxed

But:-

• .. did it disappoint? Most definitely not
• .. did it live up to the hype? Oh, yes
• .. will I return? You bet ya! We were among the front runners when Martin Hore manfully stepped forward to organise the 2009 trip. It won’t matter if the same routes are climbed then as were in 2006; each route has a unique and special feel that is worth savouring time and again.

IMC Roll of Honour 2006

Master of Ceremonies: Peter Krug

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!

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.

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 bOh 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.

By Fraser Hale – October 2006

Being members of the lowest lying Mountaineering Club in Britain most of us, in search
of crags or peaks, journey in the direction of “away” most weekends. East Anglia is
largely bereft of any vertical scenery and can be seen as less than dramatic; the lack of
contours also contributes little in the way of physical challenges or testing weather
conditions. Nevertheless Suffolk holds charms of its own if you search them out.

I recently spent a weekend leading a National Trust Working Holiday based on Orford
Ness. The Ness is the largest vegetated shingle spit in Europe and is an extremely
important habitat, boasting several rare plant, bird and insect species. By contrast to
the more usual recreational haunts of club members, the Ness is the very antithesis of
‘mountainous’; the highest point barely above sea level and as flat as yesterday’s lager
it is nonetheless a beautiful and engaging place.

The spit did not exist 800 years ago, being deposited over that time by the constant
erosion and subsequent deposition of the headland to the North. Orford was once a large
and thriving port town, as evidenced by its relatively large castle complex, but as the
shingle encroached and narrowed the passage to the North Sea, so the town’s fortunes
declined.

In order to reach the Ness you take a short boat ride across from Orford Quay. This
highlights the feeling of remoteness that pervades the place and this is further augmented
as you start to unearth the history of the place.

Orford Ness has a long and intriguing military history. First used as a base for a defence against Napoleonic invasion, it was also used as a WWI airstrip where early aerial photography was developed. During the Second World War a top secret radar system was built and tested on the island and, finally, during the Cold War, atomic weapons systems were tested in weirdly shaped buildings part buried in the shingle.

The only person permanently based on the Ness is the National Trust Warden. There are very few roads and even fewer vehicles. The wind from the North Sea moans softly across the open expanses of shingle and you can quickly feel deliciously isolated and alone.

Not surprisingly the Ness has more than its fair share of ghost stories and a plethora of myths relating to its involvement in various top secret projects. Although the area is now owned and managed by the National Trust the MoD is still very tight lipped about what went on there right up until 1986, and every winter a storm unearths at least one chunk of ordnance from under the shingle.

There are a number of walks around the Ness taking in the lighthouse, the military buildings, dunes, lagoons, shingle banks and big skies. There isn’t so much as a hillock in sight but the place has an atmosphere all its own, lots of interesting flora and fauna and an awesome back-story. The castle on the mainland isn’t a bad visit either and there is a pub near the quay that does a decent line in grub. One weekend, when you don’t fancy the drive to steeper parts, check it out, it is a unique and slightly spooky place.

NB Check access details on the NT website first. www.nationaltrust.org.uk

By Mike Hams – October 2006

Beginners weekend was the scene for my best ever day out in the Peak district.
Saturday dawned a tad damp and some hearing the forecast on Radio 4 went off to
Sheffield for a hard outing on plastic holds. My son Matthew and I along with
Judy, Beryl, Ian and Christina headed for the obligatory Lawrencefield trip. We
reasoned it would be sheltered, out of the cloud and may possibly dry given some
let up in the rain.

We weren’t disappointed in our guess and being a moderately concerned parent I
asked if Matthew could tag on the rope that went up Nailbane on the Gingerbread
slab. Last time out Matt had struggled and sworn at me (under his breath) all the
way up Snailcrack and I had put him off! So working on the basis that climbing
near to me but not with me would help confidence off he went. Being a foot or so
taller helped with the climb and he made a really good stylish ascent to the slab
while his dad looked on proudly. As the conquering hero returned to lunch on fine
food the heavens opened and thoughts of a trip up Pulpit Groove went out the
window.

Matt and I went and practiced some belay set-ups alongside the climbing area as he
hoped to lead something easy at sometime weather permitting. Several belay
arrangements were tried and clove hitches became second nature. It was all going
well and rock was drying from the shower. The other teams decided that a trip to
the Frustration area would be a good idea, as we weren’t inspired by the other
offerings in the Pool area. We arrived to find a top rope on every easy route and
an abseil on the hard ones. After some muttering we crossed the road to Millstone
and the Hells Bells area.

Here I finally climbed something Giants Steps. It was green and the holds were a
touch slippery. Thankfully under the watchful gaze of my 13 year-old I managed to
climb the horror without looking too bad! Minor complaints about rope drag were
due to my belayer doing his job properly as Ian informed me. (Performance anxiety,
what performance anxiety?) Matt had a nightmare on it, as he was just too short
for the move off the block in the corner of the ledge. I had to winch him up a
couple of inches at a time.

Time had marched on and it was dinner o’clock according to MMT (Matthew Meal
Time!) A return to camp and cooking followed. Some ale was consumed (his mother
will read this gentle reader) and a reasonable bedtime followed.

Sunday dawned reasonably wetly, team wuss headed for the café and the full
Hardhurst breakfast. I was reasonably concerned that we wouldn’t be getting off
the ground after the big feed. Froggatt was to be the venue, decided between the
second and third cups of tea.

Steve Culverhouse joined us for the trip, as he was part of the lift share. The
weather cleared to a moderately good day (by Peak standards) and Matt declared he
was ready for the challenge of the first lead. What to put him on? Well it could
only be Nursery Slab (M) in the Downhill Racer area. Steve kindly agreed to solo
alongside Matt giving advice on gear placements and Matt had climbed the route
before. Success should be a reasonably sure thing. (I wasn’t going home to explain
why the son and heir was dented to domestic management!)

Steve was calmness personified as he followed the putative leader up the climb.
Gear placements were tried and rejected, the belayer (me) had to work hard at
maintaining concentration. The man at the sharp end was fully aware of the
potentially exciting time that would be his if it all went wrong (I was working
out how to drop Steve off and flee the country before word got back home). An hour
or so later the call came “climb when ready”.

I set off in big boots to see how it had all gone. The gear placements were all
top notch (well done Steve and Matt). A very proud father topped out to shake his
son by the hand in best stiff-upper lip British Mountaineering tradition (Mallory
would have been proud of our control). I then hugged the hero and let my top lip
quiver a bit in a 90’s new-man fashion (those that are too young can ask their
parents about new-man).

Time was getting on so we left after one route (in line with my Mike one-route
Hams reputation) and headed home. It was without doubt my best ever days climbing
and will unlikely to be topped even if Matt drags me up E3 in the future. My
heartfelt thanks to Steve Culverhouse for making it all possible and Pete Tonks
for superb organisation of the whole weekend. (Can we have better weather next
time please?)

By Fraser Hale – June 2006

A few weeks ago I spent the weekend at The National Mountain Centre,
Plas Y Brenin, Taking part in the inaugural running of a new course.
Apparently, the trend in recent times has been towards the technical in
training programmes for Mountain Leader etc. and it was felt that something
to redress the balance was in order.

The Mountain Environment Workshop focuses on the physical environment
in which we walk and climb rather than the skills and techniques that we
employ once we’re there. The aim of the course is to improve awareness and
appreciation of all aspects of the mountain environment, its geology and
geography, its flora and fauna, its evolution and history.

Blue Flower (click on image to view in Flickr)

So, where to start? Well, breakfast, naturally. After a huge repast we
were introduced to our tutors; Mike Rouse is a Mountain Leader and
ex-geography teacher. Dr Janet Sumner is an earth scientist with a penchant
for volcanoes. Both these individuals, it quickly became clear, are touched
by the special kind of madness that allows their interest in and passion
for their subject matter to infect everyone in close proximity. Trust me
geography and geology were never like this at school. After a swift master
class in rock formation and the underlying geology of Snowdonia, we were
off out to witness it for real.

As well as knowing a thing or two about how the ground under our feet
came to be there, Mike and Janet identified a lot of the stuff growing up
out of it. Saturday’s walk took us to Idwal, past the Slabs and up to the
Devil’s Kitchen, in glorious warm sunshine. Along the way we discovered the
delights of Sundew, a tiny, carnivorous plant that frequents marshy ground.
Next time you’re out in the hills look out for this spiny red plant and get
up close, it’s bloody amazing! Further wonders were revealed as we climbed
above the tree line – orchids, ferns and lichens, all identified and
explained by our encyclopaedic guides.

From the head of the valley the unimaginable forces that created the
landscape were apparent through the dramatic shapes in the rock around us.
The folding and buckling of layers of rock, dozens of metres thick, the
grinding and gouging of millions of tons of glacial ice and, against this,
the relatively puny impact of man with his mines, quarries and farming.

Sunday found us on the slopes of Snowdon, with further plant life to
discover but with the emphasis on the impact of the search for natural
resources on the land. Copper mining and slate quarrying were important
industries in Wales for hundreds of years and the legacy of these
activities is to be seen in abandoned workings and buildings all over
Snowdonia.

The living environment and the historical elements of its formation are
brought together in the stories and legends that are attached to various
places, plants and people of the area, Mike had a wealth of these tales
which served to highlight the ways in which we strive to interpret and
rationalise much of the natural world around us.

Yellow Flower

The biggest impact of the course, I think, is that I realised that all
this stuff was always there. I’d been taught a lot over the weekend but
nothing so important as how to look. I have stood on hillsides in the past
and gazed around in contented wonder at my surroundings. Now I realise that
I wasn’t really getting it at all!

Mike and Janet would like to make the Workshop a regular course, watch
out for it in the brochures and on the web site. Training at PYB is always
first rate but this is something special!

By Caroline Goldsworthy – June 2006

“I will be at North Burbage car park at ten on Friday, c u there!” That was the penultimate text I received from Adrian Berry, a top climber and climbing coach who I hoped was going to have an impact on my climbing grade, get me off this plateau and start moving me towards the magic Es.

Of course, it didn’t start there… it started Bank Holiday weekend in Derbyshire where a number of us collected to celebrate the coming of (middle) age of a certain Mr Bayley. The margaritas of the previous night had proved somewhat potent and Sunday found the team too hung over to do a great deal at all. Beryl and I took the hound for a much-needed walk and the ‘boys’ decided to stroll from Hardhurst to Hathersage as concerns were expressed over not being fit to drive! Super fit Ian took in a sub 2-hour mountainous Buxton half marathon showing us all up in good style. Nice one Ian!! J

Later in the day we all convened in the Outside café and whilst chomping through the excellent coffee cake I noticed a poster advertising a climbing coach who could help improve your grade. I was tempted… He didn’t look too ropey either which helped in the decision making process. Details were duly taken and later fuelled by food and alcohol I sent the man a text and he responded the following day detailing costs etc. I was more than tempted… Exchanges of e-mails the following week left me burrowing into guidebooks in a desperate attempt to come up with the perfect tick list. I sought the opinions of fellow climbers on ukclimbing.com as to what I should consider for a first E1 lead. Opinions didn’t differ greatly from my own and so finally – I had my list…

I mailed it to the man who said that it wasn’t what he was looking for and could I please tell him what sort of routes inspired me. I felt about 12 again having had homework returned covered in red pen!!

I replied telling him of my desires to climb a millstone crack and my fear of roofs and he responded with “fine, cracks and roofs it is”!!

So here I sit in the George Hotel in Hathersage, fed and watered (well that’ll be water post Divine intervention), and worry about what awaits me the next day. I had watched part II of the Neil Gresham Master class and am terrified that the first part of the day will focus on leader falls and how to cope with them. I know it’s something I need to work on; but all in
good time please??

As is expected of one’s friends I had received a fair amount of teasing about this course of action. My non-climbing girlfriends came up with comments from “does he do extras” to “do people know you’re meeting a strange man in a car park? Is he kosher?” The boys restricted themselves to requests that I text them to let them know which ward of the Royal Hallam I
was in.

Friday morning dawned clear and bright however, evidently a good day was in store. Adrian drew up and once introductions were taken care of, we walked to the crag. I was talked through a warm up routine and filmed doing some gentle bouldering and then we moved to a slab with a few dimples. Adrian taught me to squeak my boots and then he bouldered with tennis balls in his hands. Then it was my turn. Hummm… After a couple of half-hearted attempts I was excused tennis balls and attempted the route again. This time I was more successful but was unable to let go and jump down to the bouldering mat. This was overcome by donning the approach shoes, getting to the top of the boulder, hanging over the edge and then letting go and dropping. Ugh!! But I did it three times to make sure that I could cope with it. Adrian assured me that the first day of the course I am due to attend in Kalymnos would be dedicated to falling. Something to look forward to then, I thought. J

We next went to a trad route and I led a steep overhanging brute of a route called Mutiny Crack. It’s graded HS in the current RockFax but it is tough at that grade. It is VS in the BMC guide. The pro is good, but there are three overlaps to subdue and it is as pumpy as a very pumpy thing. Much whimpering and thugging finally led to success and afterwards Adrian spoke to me about the merits of taping the hands for crack climbs and of loose chalk.

A trip to Outside was agreed upon and we trooped off back to the car park. On our way we were approached by a lady walker asking if we could help rescue a lamb from a ditch where it had become trapped. Upon arrival at the scene Adrian simply stripped his shirt off, stood astride the ditch, plunged his arms either side of the lamb and hauled it out. The very grateful lady walker helped him clean his arms and we went shopping.

The next venue was Froggatt and we arrived at the foot of Three Pebble Slab, a route I love and have wanted to lead for many years.

Three Pebble Slab (click on image to view in Flickr)

Adrian took me through the process of building up for a big lead. I checked the route, thought about what gear I would need, calmed myself with the breathing mechanisms we’d discussed in the morning, I squeaked my boots and was eventually ready to set off. I muffed getting to the first horizontal break but did it again and was soon at the second one; I placed a small cam and moved up to the pocket. I had thought it was a #6 nut but it’s a 4 and thankfully I had put a 4 and a 5 on my harness. When I did this before for some reason I put the cam in first and then had problems placing the nut; so wised up this time, I placed the nut first then the cam, clipped each to a separate rope and once the gear was placed I concentrated on the move. Gingerly, and with heart in mouth, I put my toe in the pocket and reached up for the break. Now I was standing above the gear and this next move was the one I had failed on before. I put my right
foot up for the rock over and could not get my weight over. I tried again, still couldn’t do it. I looked down at Adrian. “Try not putting your foot so far over.” he said “I know it’s a big ledge but just put your toe at the edge of it and try again.” I did as I was told and miraculously the rock
over worked, I got my weight over and my right hand crept onto the hold that had been for so long, tantalisingly out of reach. I stood on the ledge and faced the final black slab above. Gretel-like the route was clearly marked for me in the chalk of previous ascensionists. Again the
breathing and calming, and then I went for it. With success so nearly in my grasp I knew I was going to get to the top and practically yodel, but on arriving at the summit of my route nothing was further from my mind. I just stood there, shocked and looked down at Adrian. I wanted to shout for joy but the shock of actually achieving what I had wanted for so long had left me speechless. It was like I was in a dream and to a certain extent it still has not sunk in.

I was navel lint for what remained of the day. I could not get myself on to the block at Tody’s Wall – just didn’t trust my gear. So I need to go back and get that done. Adrian showed me how to tape my hands for crack climbing and I struggled on an evil crack climb, trying to learn crack
climbing techniques (a project methinks!) and finally he soloed Long John’s Slab to put a top rope up for me, but I think the old bod had had it for the day. I spent what seemed like ages dangling on the end of the rope but I’m blowed if I could reach the next crimp. I was very disappointed with myself.

However, despite being disappointed with my efforts later in the day, I have to say the day as a whole was well worth it. I learnt so much, much more in that day than I have in the past 5 years, and I achieved my goal.  Adrian is a really good coach, explains things well, is pretty patient and
makes you believe in yourself. He gave me some things to work on and I will definitely be going back for another session.

Adrian can be contacted via his website at www.positiveclimbing.com

Thanks, Adrian for a fabulous day out, I could never have done 3PS without your guidance and making me believe in myself.

Adrian Berry soloing Long John Slab E3 5c

An account of an attempt at Great Gully, Craig yr Ysfa, Carneddau.

By design, team BS found themselves in North Wales at Easter. Keen for
grand adventures of the type described in The Good Book, edited by a
certain K. Wilson, Easter Saturday saw them plodding up the service road en
route to Craig yr Ysfa to tackle Great Gully. For this particular
adventure, they were joined by mystery guest F who, it turned out, has a
peculiar penchant for this kind of climbing.

Some steep descending and scree scrambling deposited the intrepid party
at the base of the gully. It was soon evident that this was going to be a
very wet grand adventure – there was considerable evidence of flattened
vegetation in the gully and water flowing from its base.

Team member B took the ropes for the first pitch but the protection was
such that all 3 team members were moving together on the whole rope length
before the first piece of gear was placed. Eventually, a solid nut was
placed shortly before a spike belay.

Mystery guest F then took the ropes and made short work of a rocky step
and some gully scrambling before belaying under a dripping chockstone. Team
member S was rather less taken with the step and there was much swearing
and cursing as an alternative line was taken up the smooth gully wall. By
contrast, team member B made the step easily, padded up the gully bed and
wondered what all the fuss was about.

The ropes were once again swapped over, this time to team member S, for
the pitch up to the ‘Door Jamb’ and an iffy belay. So iffy, the call was
‘Climb but don’t fall off’. The door jamb itself is a deep cave with water
dripping from the edge and smooth, moss covered, walls on either side. The
entire team wondered what to do next – the guide book mentions a human
pyramid or a snow bank to surmount this obstacle, neither of which were
options. An alternative option up a steep groove on the right was also
mentioned.

The ropes were swapped back to team member B who tackled the groove,
which was certainly steep and wet too. Quite a challenge in big boots. At
the top of the gully, the way was less obvious. Going left looked to be too
hard so right it had to be. This option had evidently seen the passage of
feet before and some more protection was possible until a nervous shuffle
across a wet and sloping grassy bank led to another belay of the ‘Climb but
don’t fall off’ type.

The belay was outside the gully and probably off route. Eventually, the
entire team were gathered on the small ledge and, again, wondered what to
do next. From our position, the next moves were far from clear but despite
this uncertainty mystery guest F took the ropes again and stepped out to
lead the pitch. The first few moves were easy but unprotected but then it
was onto wet rock again. After some deliberation, mystery guest F took a
rocky chimney option and did much of it before declaring ‘This is too hard
for me’. At much the same point, team member S asked ‘What is the time?’ It
turned out to be about 4PM and a quick sum confirmed that it had taken
something like 3.5 hours to get to a stop point on the 5th pitch with
another 4 pitches and the crux still to come. Time for a mountaineering
decision.

Whilst we were all equipped for a finish in the dark, it wasn’t an
appealing prospect. So, mystery guest F lowered off and made himself secure
to a handy spike. Much rope faffing followed as mystery guest F secured the
ropes around the same spike. Team members B put himself on the rope,
teetered back into the gully until below the spike before rappelling into
the void below the door jamb, casually forgetting the dripping roof and
moss covered walls, thus getting a good soaking. Team member S and mystery
guest F followed. Further application of the same technique returned the
entire team to the mouth of the gully but it had taken something like 2
hours to get there.

At the time of writing, team BS had still to return to Great Gully for
another attempt. Mid-summer after a period of hot, dry weather currently
looks favourite.

By Caroline Goldsworthy – June 2006

Arrghh!!

I tried to bite back a scream as yet another lump of chalk responded to my weight by hurling itself into the abyss.

“Take in.” I yelled at my climbing partner high above me. Nothing.

“Take in!” More insistent this time. Still nothing.

This time I screamed. A screech from the depths of my now terrified being.

“Taaaake innnnnn!!” He took in. The green rope was now pulling me off of the cliff face and I had ample amounts of the blue rope, sufficient in fact to make a jumper!

“Take in on blue.” The green rope became tighter still – the blue sagged at my crampon-shod feet. An interesting combination of razor sharp metal and my lifeline – the rope!

“Take in on bluuuuuuue!!” The blue rope moved a little, at least now I wouldn’t tread on it. I moved up the grey and white face of the cliff. My progress marked by yet more rocks and boulders scattering as I passed and flinging themselves onto the beach and surprised onlookers below.

I reached the next point of protection. A warthog hammered into the chalky rock. I inserted the pick end of my ice axe into the head of the warthog and tried to twist it so that I could remove it. Not a hope. “F***, f***, f***” I imagined how proud he was of how well placed the equipment was. I imagined how good he had felt whilst hammering it in with his new lump hammer. I then imagined how good that lump hammer was going to look carefully placed in his skull!

Extracting Gear (click on image to view in Flickr)

I tried twisting the warthog again. I couldn’t quite get the leverage on it due to the proximity of a piece of flint. I leaned my face against the cool chalk, and swore and cursed him. I cursed his strength for getting the warthog in so deeply, I cursed him roundly for how gripped he must have felt when he placed it and I cursed myself for being such a girlie prat and not getting a grip on my own fear. “Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little death. I shall face my fear. I shall let it wash over me and through me…”

I took a deep breath and focused the anger on removing the warthog. Finally it came loose and I clipped it to a loop on my harness. I reflected on fear and motivation and asked myself what so many people have asked me in the past; “Why do you climb?”

Caroline on Saltdean Slab Grade II

I have never found a clear-cut answer to this question. All I can say is that it makes me feel alive and, let’s face it, there’s nothing like staring death in the face to make you feel alive. It feels good to sit in the pub later on and to relive the tense moments of the day with a cold pint of beer in front of you. I used to know someone who said it made them feel proud to have done something exciting during the day. Of course, these are not the only motivations; there are so many other things too. Feeling the early morning sun on your face; enjoying a fantastic view from the top of the crag or cliff; spending time with good friends in silly and often quite dangerous situations. It’s not being in danger that drives you so much as the feelings afterwards when it’s all over and “it wasn’t quite so bad” and having friends with whom to share those feelings.

A few months after our last chalk climbing trip Craig was killed in an accident on Mount Shasta, and I had to face the fact that my sport, what I love most, what I really live for, is dangerous and can be, in the wrong circumstances, terminal. However, I was also able to take comfort in knowing that my friend died doing what he loved and he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. I continue miss him as do many others, but ultimately his death did not stop me from climbing, because if it hadn’t been for climbing I would never have met him or shared the good times we’d had.I reached the top of the cliff with grit in my eyes and a mouth full of chalk and saw him there, smiling at me, cigarette on lip (he’d perfected this in recent weeks) and in that Californian drawl I shall miss he said, “Now, that wasn’t so bad was it?” And no, it wasn’t; not after it was all over and we packed the ropes up and walked to the pub. It wasn’t so bad after all.Dedicated to the memory of Craig Hiemstra; loved, missed but never, ever forgotten.

Craig on Saltdean Slab