Quiet Times?

Its felt like a quiet few weeks in North Wales since I've been back from France. Then I realise if I go a day or two without doing something I think its quiet. Then I think about home, friends I haven't seen in ages did I do the right thing packing up everything and moving. Lots of people talk about getting out, falling out of love with Ireland, wanting to leave. I've been gone a year in another two weeks. Feeling a bit like I've not done much recently so I'm making a list to remind myself why I'm here and why its worth it...

Ran up Snowdon after work a few times.

Walked up from Llanberis and soloed the Trinity Face after work. It was dark. Felt ridiculous and amazing.

Near the top of Trinity Left Hand.

Walked up to Clogwyn Du after work with Will to try and find something easy to do. The rock was black when we got up there. Nearly got lost about four or five times.

Sitting in a tree for 2 hours belaying Will on Pincushion, he made it to the peg and lowered off.

Perched on an arete on One Step in the Crowds wondering what the hell I'm doing up there for the first trad route of the season and how the hell I'm going to get over the roof. Smeary feet, good jam, work feet up. Hit the slopey lip of the big crack, jam other hand, work feet up on nothing. One last look a the WC zero at my feet. “Trust your feet, don't fuck this up,” is all that's going through my head. My arms are getting tired, I think I've been up here for fifteen minutes or more, time crawls. I pull. I see good holds. Smear feet up. Reach slowly. Keep in balance. My foot pops. I slap up violently as I start to barn-door. My hand lands on the jug. Tremadog rock has never felt so good, I laughed after an outpouring of expletives.

Up at five to 5 am and find the last of the ice in Ogwen with Helena. We walked in, it was warm. Climbed the Idwal slabs in boots at 7 am. Pretty ridiculous. Few snowy and icy holds up top. Felt sorry for the guys starting up it at 9.30 am in rock shoes it was cold!

Helena somewhere up on the Idwal Slabs at a stupidly early hour.

Ran Moel Eilio and around the quarries a few times.

Few beacon sessions.

Seen the Alain Robert talk.

Had a chat with Joe Brown. He showed me this pretty funny video: 

We got chatting about bolting and how he's worried that climbing is loosing its adventure. He comes from a generation where it seems like they just went out and got on with it in pretty much any weather so this week I decided to take a leaf out of Joe's book.

Jono arrived from Ireland on Wednesday. His heel is still injured for his trip to the States so we couldn't head up the mountains to have a look for conditions, too much walking required. We headed up to Skyline in Australia in the quarries instead. I got on one of Joe's routes, a HVS which had 30m of novelty gear placements until I got a good wire 10m from the top. It got windy, then the horizontal snow came whizzing by followed by hail. The rock stayed dry so Jono climbed directly to the line of bolts on the 6a. I was wearing two belay jackets. We couldn't feel our feet or hands. Just as I topped out to join Jono it started raining. The rock got wet so we sacked it off...

A crap forecast lead to us drinking too much that night. Made it up to Vivian at 2 pm the next day with a raging hangover. Jono had his eye on the Dervish. I offered to lead Last Tango for a warm up. I was in trouble straight away. I could barely get of the ground. I couldn't seem to quite put my feet and hands where I wanted them. Moving up the crack to the overlap I was feeling really rough. It was a mega effort not to vomit, then I got the shakes and couldn't keep my feet on anything. I put in a wire and lowered off. Jono shot up the route. Just as he got back down we heard a rushing sound. A wall of white hail came in from the mountains and soaked the place. The ropes got stuck when Jono tried to pull them. An ad-hoc system got him back up the ropes to release them. We retired to Llanberis in the rain.

So back to the start of the post. Did I do the right thing in moving? I think this picture says it all.

Alone on the Trinity Face in the dark. Never been happier! I swear I'm smiling.

French Ice.

It took a bit of travelling to get there but just over 3 hours after landing in Nice the four Irish and the rented Fiat Panda arrived through the snow with a boot full of sharp pointy stuff to get stuck into the ice. I was excited. Celliac, La Grave and loads of other places all within driving distance from where we were staying. A quick dinner, sort kit out, bed...

We woke to snow, everything was covered in fresh white powder. “Great”, I thought, “its cold”. Calvin, Clare and Ian weren't so optimistic. It must be the years of experience. Stupid Irish boy, there was lots of snow, too much in fact. We managed to get to and from the shops going sideways with snow chains on across the bridge over the lake. I was gripped and I hadn't even been on any ice yet! We got back to the house in one piece and went for a walk.

Ian Rea my climbing partner for the week. He also has a good eye for nice French wine.

Luckily the roads were cleared for the next morning and we headed off down to the little known, quiet Ubaye Valley near the Italian border. As we trundled through an avalanche tunnel I caught flashes of an ice fall between the breaks in the wall down to the right in the valley. “That looks amazing. Pretty steep! I wonder what grade it gets? I'd love to try something like that. Don't be an idiot, take your time and get warmed up first,” went the internal debate. For someone who's only climbed in UK winter conditions it was the best looking bit of ice I'd ever seen! We pulled in at the tunnel exit and everyone got out and started gearing up. I thought I'd missed something. “Oh crap, we're going down to that route. You're about to embarrass yourself big time.” A short walk and an abseil located us at the bottom. Calvin went first and shot up it, Clare followed with similar ease.

Calvin running up the first route.

Ian kindly gave me the lead and off I went. I started up and relaxed, it was a lot easier angled than the walls I'd been training on. I took my time, making sure of axe and crampon placements, sticking in screws when I felt necessary. Soon it was over, first proper ice route done and I wanted to do more.

We did another route further up the valley with an abseil approach which topped out directly onto the road! The belay was off the crash barriers, luckily its a quiet road.

The top out onto the road was a bizarre first!

Day three and we headed up to Celliac. We decided to do Les Formes du Chaos a mega classic 300m route. Although the route was quite busy it was still really enjoyable. There wasn't too much hanging around at stances. The pitches really contrasted with belays in caves and some funky ice formations it was a fun day out. There is an optional walk off if the top two pitches are out of condition but luckily they were in and Ian got to traverse into the waterfall and swarm up the back. I got the steep ice wall at the top.

Ian leading out of the cave on Les Formes du Chaos.

That night we continued onto La Grave hoping to find some space in a gite Clare had stayed in the year before. Luckily there was a free room which left us with a five minute drive to the route in the morning. The owner who is also a guide gave us a conditions update and also gave us some e-climb axes and an ice screw to try out! Caturgeas, the mega classic line was on the cards. Eight pitches of good ice according to the guide. The only problem is that the route faces south so it gets the sun. We knew it was a gamble to see if we could get up it before the sun hit the top so an early rise was in order.

We arrived at the bottom of the route at first light. It was 07.30 and probably about -10 °C, game on. Calvin headed off first and Clare quickly followed. Ian then shot up the first pitch and I followed with numb hands. Some hot aches ensued at the belay but I quickly got over it and lead up the next pitch. By the time we got to pitch four the sun had risen. Small bits of ice started coming down the route. I looked at Ian. It wasn't boding well. The temperature was rising and the sun was already warming the top. “It'll be grand.” he assured me. It wasn't grand. Half way up the pitch waves of chunky hail started coming down the route. I couldn't look up without getting a painful face full of ice. Calvin was at the next belay already sorting an abseil. I climbed to some good ice and put in a screw and clipped it. There was nothing for it but to bail. Ian summed it up well, “That's a damn shame.” 

The top of Caturgeas can be seen high in the centre. We didn't get that far, gutted.

The previous night we had arranged to go an stay with another Irish man, Harry O' Brien who spends time in the smallest house I've ever been in around the back of the Les Deux Alpes ski resort. The area is best described as the back arse of nowhere! It made a good plan B however as there was an ice fall there. It would be a consolation prize fifteen minutes walk from Harry's door so not all bad then.

We arrived, put packs on, walked the fifteen minutes uphill. I heard rushing water. I turned the corner and was greeted by the sight of a waterfall in full flow. Bollix! Ian joined me. “Do you want the wet frozen bit on the left or the right?” I asked. “I didn't bring my wetsuit”, replied Ian “Sure I suppose you can only be philosophical.” He was right but I was still disappointed.

An out of condition route. It really wasn't our day.

Thanks to Harry's hospitality we al had somewhere to squeeze in and sleep and we were well fed. The drive back the next morning was a nervous one. It was snowing again and as we approached La Grave we spied two north facing routes. Stop and do the routes and risk not getting back through the Col du Lautaret or gamble on there being something to do on the other side? We continued on and then turned back. It was worth the risk.

Ian started up the left hand route. The ice was ok but not great. I had a steeper rising traverse for the second pitch. It all started feeling very Scottish. I pushed in an ice screw and clipped it anyway. Axes were getting buried to the head and then raking down through the ice when I tested them. Front points were doing the same. I persevered and arrived at the belay. “Christ that was terrifying.” I thought. We hit the bottom in one abseil and headed over to the route on the right as Calvin was seconding up the top pitch.

Ian following up the top pitch of some Scottish feeling ice.

I didn't think it looked too bad. The top pitch looked quite short but a little steeper than anything else we'd been on. I tried to give it to Ian but he was having none of it! As Ian neared the top of the first pitch Calvin arrived back at the bottom. I asked how it was, “First pitch is four, the second pitch is defiantly five, belay's on the right.” Shit! The alarm bells in my head started going off. I started up to Ian as Clare was coming down and I asked for her opinion as well, “The top pitch is quite steep and very sustained.” The bells were deafening. Oh god I was in trouble.

Looks quite short and not to bad from the bottom.

  
I arrived at the first belay. The next pitch looked a lot steeper that it had at the bottom. It also looked a hell of a lot longer. I warmed my hands and looked on nervously. Bail or have a look? I decided to have a look. I placed a screw a few feet from the belay, I wasn't taking any chances on this. I established myself at the bottom of the steep climbing and placed another screw. I looked back across at Ian. He looked miles away. I looked down, I felt a long way up and quite alone. 85° ice lead to 90°. I was starting to get a feel for the axe placements. I was taking ages, I had to keep shaking out. Hanging off one tool was more terrifying than hanging off two. I was onto the steep section and decided to place another screw. I started it and it bit in well enough. Why can't my wrist rotate that extra few degrees?! I fumbled it. I thrust my hips forward and caught the screw between my waist and the ice. I nearly came off. “Jesus its not worth forty quid,” I thought “relax you idiot!” I managed to get the screw in and continued, taking an absolute age. I thought it was going to ease up after the 90° bit but it returned to 85°. My arms were fading fast. The axes felt like lead bars. If it didn't go in second time I had to hook it over my shoulder and shake out. I was getting worried and then I saw the tat on the right. It was only ten meters away. I crawled up to the ice towards it. “Safe!” I shouted down. I got away with it.

Ian arrived beside me, beaming. He shook my hand. “I'll have to buy you a pint for that!” Two abseils had us back at the bottom and ten minutes later we were back at the road. Calvin walked down towards me, “Well? Hardy man!” he smiled. I smiled back, “That was amazing!” I don't think anyone realised how close I came to not getting up it!

Saturday was spent on limestone in the sun at Sisteron. I pulled on a draw on a 5+, that got a good laugh. Some epic travelling on Sunday from France to North Wales via Dublin had me home for 03:30 on Monday with work at 09:00. I ran up Snowdon after work, its lovely over here at the minute. Cold but hopefully the clear skies are a sign of things to come. The axes and screws are back in the drawer, I've organised the trad rack. I'm psyced for spring....

Relaxing day in the sun clipping bolts!

Nervous Expectation.

So I'm finally in a position where I can afford to go on proper climbing trips. I live in an area with ample training facilities. There's no excuses for being weak and unfit, its all on the doorstep or in the attic. My own laziness is the only limiting factor.

Am I lazy? Sometimes... Then I got a text off Helena who had to work at 11 am the other Thursday:

“...Would you want to get out really early tomorrow and climb something in Idwal?... Would have to leave here at 6 and go do the Screen?” Well there was only one answer to that! “I can bring ropes and 6 ice screws!”

And so the plan was set. I woke at 5.30 forced down a slice of bread and some coffee and was off. We weren't the first people at the Ogwen car park, I was surprised to see others there just after half 6. Word must have been out that the ice was in! A quick walk had us at the bottom of the route and geared up for first light at 8.

I've never climbed a proper ice route before, I've also never really lead any harder that some lean III's in Scotland and backed off a really lean Vent in the Cairngorms but I was psyced. So here I was standing at the bottom of my first proper ice route and I wasn't nervous, I wasn't scared, I didn't even think too much about it. Thunk, thunk, kick, kick and I was off. Mega hooks lead most of the way. I took care on the steeper section; tap, tap, tap, make a placement, be delicate, pull! Faff in a screw. All too soon it was over.

As I sat at the top belaying up Helena, the rising sun turned the clouds a shady orange, I smiled. Everything went well. Everything felt fine. Great route in good condition, no wind and an amazing view. Maybe for once I've done enough and put in enough hours to not feel left behind. Not feel like I should have done more and not be scared for the wrong reason.

I planned this trip to France back at the end of November so there's been plenty of time for preparation. I'd like to think I've been doing that. Many hours have been spent drytooling in the quarries in all weathers, day or night. I've been running for weeks, always in darkness generally with rain and wind, accompanied by the glare of harsh LED's. I've spent a lot of time in the attic recently. Pulling hard, traversing, getting pumped, resting and getting pumped again. Cold, damp, chalky and claustrophobic sums it up. The music from Chris' old mini discs blaring; Scar Tisue, Californication, Mojo Pin, Grace....

Will it all pay off? I Hope so. The weather forecast is good, its cold in Gap.

Helena at the top of Deer Hunter. Steep walls ensure sore forearms!

A Run, Some Fun and Hot Whiskey.

Went for a run last week. Up Snowdon on the Llanberis path and I managed to run uphill slowly to the second rail bridge. I've not been able to do that before so it bodes well for my April plan of trying to run the Wicklow Way. Hopefully I won't be in shorts and encounter snow and hail again! It'll defiantly be way out of my comfort zone, over twice the longest distance I've ever ran/ walked and stumbled. It will also take me way over the 8 hr mark that I've ran before and I've no idea how my body and head will hold up. I just hope I can venture into unknown territory the way Eoin Keith did over New Years and do as well.

For those of you who don't know, Eoin is an Irish ultra distance runner and adventure racer who ran over 300 miles in less than 72 hrs in the Across the Years race in the States. He's one of the few to break the 300 mile barrier at that race and the only one to break it and not win. He also holds the record for the Wicklow Way ran in the more difficult South to North direction at a time a little over 13 hrs. I will be going the more easy North to South route. You can read more on Eoin's excellent blog here http://eoinkeith.wordpress.com/.

Fun involved heading for an easy day out on Crib Lem last Thursday. Helena proved that women have no sense of direction as we got lost a few times via various “short cuts” on the way to Gerlan. The walk in was also a lot longer than half an hour! Eventually we located the ridge and scrambled quite high to get some more frozen conditions to cut up onto the ridge proper.

Crib Lem is the ridge that disappears into the cloud.

I spent most of the route knocking snow of my Petzl Darts every 5 steps. I'd lift a foot and have a kilo of compressed snow stuck there. I know they're not a general mountaineering crampon but after spending 45 mins the night before hitting my DMM Aguille crampons with a hammer they were still the only thing that would fit my boots! We spent most of the route climbing in cloud so I didn't get any views of the Black Ladders. Still a fun day out and a nice route with good company.

Happy faces at the top of Crib Lem on Carnedd Dafydd.

Friday brought a big dump of snow in the village but mega high winds meant an attempt at crawling up Snowdon was aborted pretty quickly. The attic came back into vogue due to weather conditions and I'm pretty psyched for it again. Spent a few hours up there with Doc Ruth and Helena and felt strong so all the training must be paying off. I just hope I can keep the fitness up for France next month.

Snowdon Street last Friday.

I'm off to the Gap/ Briancon area with Irish legends Calvin Torrans, Clare Sheridan and Ian Rea on the 10th of Feb for a week. It should be a great trip and I'm sure I'll learn loads if I can keep up! I've defiantly been training for it. A lot of hours have been spent up in the quarries putting in laps on the dry tooling routes in all weathers so thanks for all the belays guys! 

I haven't been to France since a sport climbing trip to the Ecrins when I started climbing and its where I did my first outdoor leading albeit on bolts. I've also got a new pair of Nomics I can't really afford so I really don't have any excuses now! I just need this head-cold to go away so I can get back to training and make sure I'm fixed sooner rather than later. 

The attic board.

I've been knocked out since Saturday, I still went for a run. Had an attic boulder session with Owen on Sunday. I've not had any energy since Monday. Hot whiskey seems to help.

Best hot whiskey recipe:

1x tsp of honey, 1x wedge of lemon, 5x cloves, hot water and a measure of Irish whiskey (if Irish is unavailable, scotch will do).

Enjoy.

Four Sesame Rivita, Eight Cherry Tomatoes and some Hummus.

Not a good idea to have that as your only meal of the day at lunchtime and head into the hills for a night run. But there you go, when a bit of phsyce comes its better to go with it than let it pass. I soon regretted it as my legs and lungs burned. Pushing through the bog up the side of Moel Eilio was becoming less enjoyable by the minute and the thick wool socks I was wearing were now soaked through. I've not been up in the hills much in the last month or two so I was trying to make the most of it pushing hard were I felt I could. The weather was slowly getting worse. One last glimpse over my shoulder and the haze of lights from Llanberis disappeared in the swirling mist and damp. My world became a two foot blueish blob. Fine mist droplets shimmering in the blue glow narrowed my field of vision to what was directly underfoot. I could just about pick out the well travelled ground.

Frightened sheep scattered as I crawled past, their eyes glowing yellow and then vanishing into the dark. Finally the last stile before the top appeared. One last push and then across the ridge, the worst of it over I glanced left and noticed the jet black sky pierced by a bright dot. Suddenly the glare from the headtorch disappeared and light flooded the ground in front of me. I stopped, held in the power button and the light died. I looked back down the mountain, the village and its lights had re-appeared. The Plough was high in the sky, sparkling and clear. I took it all in. The cloud shrouded the lower hills, just leaving their tops exposed which were outlined against the orange glow of the sky. Seconds passed slowly and the cloud drifted back in. I realised I was cold from standing around. I'll take any excuse for a rest but the amazing view was a good one! I continued on back in my little two foot blob of blue, awe suddenly lost in burning legs, cold feet and hunger but I was smiling.

This rapidly changed as I slid my way down greasy bits of rock and wet grass. Concentrating on the next foot placement became paramount. I was concentrating so hard on my feet that I realised I wasn't sure where I was! Maybe a result of not having been up there in a while or maybe hunger but I was in a slight spot of bother. I was on the ridge all right, I'd just crossed the second stile but I knew I wasn't on track. I stopped and weighed up my options. I pretty quickly dismissed continuing and getting more lost. I turned tail and headed back uphill. I knew if I headed slightly right I'd find the edge of the ridge, I just had to make sure I didn't disappear off the side of it! After a nervous few minutes the ground gave way to darkness, the wind whistled by and the mist flowed over the edge. I traced the ridge back to where I wanted to be and picked my way back to the summit. The well travelled trail appeared back beneath my feet and I ran, stumbled and fell my way back to the village through ankle deep bog and rocky ground. 

X-Talons, trusty fell shoes this time of year. Pity about the idiot wearing them!

Lessons learned:

1. Tomatoes, hummus and rivita is a nice lunch.

2. Eat more food. 

Are you still climbing those mountians?

Its a silly question, one used in jest to mock me any time I seem to meet people back home in Ireland that I used to know. I generally shrug it off, give the simple reply of "yes" and try and avoid talking about it. They always follow up with questions about the highest, the hardest and then laugh. How do you convey what climbing means to you to someone who doesn't understand? They know me as I was, not who I am now.

I live in North Wales, work in Joe Browns in Llanberis and spend all my free time climbing, hill running and training. I tend to be driven by the line, the history and the adventure. Existing is easy, living is hard and it requires effort. I know I don't put enough in and its a constant battle to change that. To be ready for that moment, exposed, afraid, on the edge, walking the tightrope and reaching relief and success or falling upon failure. There's also some pain and suffering. I find dealing with failure the hardest thing but if it was easy it wouldn't be worthwhile.

Its also about the people you meet along the way, fun and shared experience. Friends are a constant source of inspiration and advice. I've met some amazing people and I look forward to meeting more. So I suppose this is a beginning. A journal of places, people, routes, thoughts as much for me as anyone else and hopefully it helps to inspire someone along the way.

Me feeling very out there on the fourth pitch of the first ascent of Benwee Head in Mayo. I don't just climb mountains! Photo Hugh Henessy ©