Solitude

I quite like running.  In a perverse sort of way.  Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that I like running after I have done the running and most certainly not when I am battling a headwind, with my feet being blown from under me, as I cross the viaduct.  Despite this love hate relationship with the activity, I have always fancied getting into trail running; the idea of getting out into the countryside, onto the moors and away from the conurbations, is just my cup of tea (mmm tea), but until now, I had never done anything about this.

But the other day, someone suggested how running could be combined with climbing - climb until pumped then run on the moors.  Sounded eminently sensible to me. I live on the edge of a village, adjacent to the Bronte Way, so I thought I would make use of this resource and see what this off road malarky was all about. Moving slowly through a wet and muddy field, I was in my element and although not moving quickly, it was quite a different experience to plodding along tarmac, trying not to trip over yet another crapping dog. Granted, 3 km uphill straight into a F7 was not a pleasant experience, but the track was soft on my feet and I didn't see a soul. I didn't really see the view either - I was too busy trying not to fall over. The return leg was excellent, sunshine, a following wind and downhill 95% of the way. Even the part on the road was quite good.

9.95 km later, I certainly felt like my legs had had a workout and although walking backwards might have been quicker, I somehow didn't care. Something odd has come over me in recent months and I no longer feel the need to chastise myself about my running - at least I go out and at least I do something. More to the point, it's actually much more enjoyable when I don't think I am about to have a heart attack and I'm also sure that running slowly still burns more calories and makes me feel much better than if I sat on the couch watching TV all day.

As fun as this excursion was, my feet were skiting about in the mud and so I thought investing in the right sort of shoes may be prudent (and everyone loves new shoes). Having sought advice from one who knows of these things, I trotted off to Leeds and purchased myself a pair of truly hideous, and therefore utterly brilliant, new trainers. Psyched from a meeting I was dreading, but which turned out to be massively positive, no wind and bright sunshine, I had to get out, so I headed to Ilkley Moor.

As the low sun shone in my eyes, I struggled to find my way to where I wanted to be. I also struggled to run up hill (as in I had to keep slowing to a walk). But I plodded on, reaching the Twelve Apostles just as the sun started to set. I passed two dog walkers and nearly tripped over one of their dogs, but otherwise I was alone on the moor. Bliss. Running down the peaty path, through puddles and jumping between stones, I could have just kept going, but the realisation struck me that it was now getting dark and that I was alone in the middle of Ilkley Moor without a phone. I turned round. Slogging back over the summit, the lights of Ilkley were laid out below me, the landscape shrouded in an inky blue veil. Making my way across the flag stones, I suddenly realised I was enjoying myself - while I was still running! Perhaps it was because I was going downhill, perhaps it was because of the environment, perhaps it was the solitude, maybe it was all of those things and others too, all I know is that after that 8.73 km induction, my hideous trainers and I will be plodding slowly over another moor sometime very soon.

Alone in the woods

The Bible (the Yorkshire Gritstone Bouldering book) said it was rather esoteric. It didn't lie. But there was something quite cathartic about being alone in the woods, with only the occasional dog walker and some very green boulders for company. It has to be said that I love esoterica and the under explored, so a place for which the best topo is still a couple of PDFs online, was right up my street. A bit like being back in Orkney!

Lost in my own, rather melancholy, thoughts, I bimbled back and forward trying a few things, as ever, with little success. There seemed to be some nice doable stuff but it was so green I was loathe to try on my own (although I have subsequently been told that here green does not equal slippery). Having warmed up my body and my confidence, I tackled a problem so easy, it probably isn't even a problem, but I was pleased to have topped out something. This was, I must not forget, only my 3rd outdoor bouldering session.

Admiring the view from the top

I tried, without success, a few things on Ground-Up Wall, guided by the chalk marks I suspect belong to the Facewesters, and on the incredibly green Flaky Wall.  Eventually I moved on to another f -1 slab, doing rather a lot of climbing up and climbing down, before I manned up and topped out through the vegetation (tactical knee, tactical tree). 

Contemplating life in front of Ground-Up Wall

Buoyed on by this very minor success, a couple of days later I made a return to 'home ground' and visited some easy problems I previously hadn't found.  These, it transpired, were directly beneath where I had parked my car, but somehow I managed to wander round in the woods, get the wrap stuck under trees and fall over in the mud trying to find them...

The low 'warm-up' area - just perfect for Donkeys

I started with the lowest graded problem in the book and was pleasantly surprised to find that it was easy in reality, although I was still a little shaky with nerves.  I topped out with an inelegant, but efficient, tactical knee, before repeating for consolidation. Moving on to something slightly harder, the nerves really began to show. Having down climbed once, I cited the mantra (Man Up, Stand up and Just Commit) and did exactly that, reaching the top out with only a slight feeling of nausea. But fear then overtook sense and I invoked the full-on seal top out, which was inelegant, inefficient and next to a carpark, most definitely embarrassing.  I was wired.  

Visibly shaking, I wasn't sure if repeating was a good idea, but I did it anyway and that's where the fun began. This time my top out was not just that of a seal, it was more of a beached whale wildly thrashing for freedom. Grasping hopelessly at the grass and even the mud, frankly, I was shitting myself.  Fearing I was about to slither back down the wall, with a high chance of injury, my foot suddenly struck something solid and although unsure what that was, it seemed a better option than breaking a leg. I pushed myself further onto the rock and managed to haul the rest of me over the edge. And then I checked that no one was watching.

Returning sheepishly to the bottom, I had a go on a few more problems but had scared myself sufficiently that my heart wasn't really in it.  Always wishing to finish on a positive note, however, I repeated the first problem, more elegantly than the first two times, but still with a tactical knee. 

Looking at the time, I realised there was a while before I had to get to Leeds Wall, so I wandered over to the easy-problem-with-the-stupid-top-out to give it another go.  Giving it a couple of tries, I got further than on previous occasions, but faced with the tricky top out, I backed off - I had already avoided breaking a limb once that day.  Removing my shoes on the mat, it was warm, sunny and peaceful.  There was no excuse not to lay down for a while and drink in the warmth.

Airing one's hooves in the sunshine

Recounting my experiences later on at the wall, The One Who Runs suggested that lone bouldering was a sure fire route to an injury.  Perhaps he is right and certainly I have felt that I would have achieved more in my lone sessions with the input of another, but there is also something rather enjoyable about trying things at your own speed, in your own way and being able to take the time to soak in your surroundings.  

The shared experiences, banter and good fun that comes from climbing with your friends can never be surpassed, those are the days that memories are made from, but climbing on your own, if marginally more risky, is certainly better than not climbing at all.

A beautiful day shared with friends

And as for the near-death seal-like top outs?  Well Three Minute Egg says he'll teach me how to do it properly...

Therapy

Today I found myself in glorious sunshine, driving out of Bradford with my Snap Wrap, chalk bag and shoes in the back. I think, that without noticing, I might have become a boulderer.

Arriving at Caley for the first time, I spent 10 minutes wandering around in the woods, getting the wrap stuck under trees and falling about in the mud. Eventually I found some boulders. But I was on my own and I still lack confidence in my abilities and with only one pad and no friends, the height and slabby nature of the 'easy' boulder seemed a gamble too far. I returned to the car.

The return

Some 20 minutes later I found myself back at the scene of our torchlit adventures, this time determined to do better. And I did. Marginally. I began where I had finished, just over a week previously, and having walked through the woods, got the wrap stuck under some trees and fallen about in the mud, I reached my first target. Granted, I minced around for a couple of minutes, but with the added benefit of actually being able to see what I was doing and a willingness to commit, this time I managed to get off the ground. This is progress! After a couple more goes, baulking at the top-out each time, I moved over to another group of problems.

Searching for a chegwin for my foot

Stretched out, looking for some footholds

I moved between three different problems, feeling infinitely more confident than on my previous visit and although I still did not get up anything, I got much further off the ground than on my earlier attempts. Reflecting on the session, I decided that next time, if I can get hold of a second pad and a friend with good beta, I'm pretty sure I will get up something.

Considering the problem(s) (and someone else's excessive chalk marks!)

As the sun disappeared behind the hill and the boulders, once again, became damp and greasy, I sat down on the wrap and listened to the bubbling stream and the singing birds. Maybe I had not topped out any problems, but for those two hours while I had busied myself trying, those things that this morning had made me feel so sad, had, at least for a short time, been put to the back of my mind. Climbing, it seems, has more than just physical benefits.

Urrrr-rrruuu-rrruuuuurrrrr

Chewbaccaing - The act of peeling straight off a boulder problem as you touch the top hold, resulting in a sound reminicent of Chewbacca.

I had never bouldered outdoors before last Tuesday and because my mate, Three Minute Egg, and I are overly optimistic, we decided that trying to go after work was a REALLY GOOD IDEA.  It wasn't. With only one pad, some iffy landings, greasy rock and fading light, I couldn't, or more likely, wouldn't, get up anything.  Having fannied about at the bottom of an f3 for about 20 minutes, with no hope of progress, I was pretty despondent when we finally admitted defeat and headed to the pub for soft drinks and a flaccid burger.  However, rallied by vitamin C and caffeine, a new plan was formed...

Searching for holds in the dark

A few days later, my second attempt at bouldering was a far more pleasant experience, mainly because I could actually see the holds and because we had a branch of Bensons for Beds at the bottom of the problems.  I admit that I was pretty frightened to begin with, I lacked confidence and my climbing was mince, but after a few bail outs, I realised that my new mobile mattress was the business and I began to relax.  Having tackled the smallest and probably easiest problem at Brimham, I was buoyed on and back on the first problem took my first 'real' fall - with a healthy dose of Chewbacca thrown in.

Shitting myself on the first problem

The Lesser Spotted Chewbacca

As the day wore on, we moved between problems and although I found most of them way too hard, at least I kept trying.  Some of the rock was still pretty greasy and green so conditions were not ideal, but although I claimed my difficulties in getting up anything were due to having too much leg, it was pointed out that the problem was less to do with a physical inability and more to do with my mental unwillingness to push things to my real limit.

Unwilling to commit to a rockover!

Moving on, Three Minute Egg found himself an alleged f6B+ on the Blacksmith and gave his hands a proper pasting on the green slopers, while I took Facebook profile pictures, shouted useless encouragement and shivered in two down jackets.  It being Mothers' Day, there were plenty folk about and he even sparked the interest of the next generation of boulderers during his attempts.

Three Minute Egg working it on Cocoa Wall

Towards the end of the afternoon, we found ourselves back where we started and I was determined to get myself up that first problem.  Being reminded to breath, I thought calmly and logically about what I was doing and before I knew it, I was looking over the top.  Utilising a step up I couldn't see and the grace of a heavily pregnant seal trying to get up an Orcadian beach, I topped out my first f4+ (everyone has to start somewhere!). Having tried something else, I then returned to the easy f4 to end the day on a positive note.

Victory is mine!

In  the end I realised that it was not that I could not climb the first problem in the morning, rather that the fear and doubt in my own head made me believe that I couldn't and without the confidence to try, I was never going to do it.  By the afternoon, I had tried, failed, jumped, fallen, succeeded and backed off so many times that my fear had almost all evaporated and crucially, the psyche was now there to give it a good go.

In the end, as usual, it all came down to a head game and perhaps, although created in jest, our mantra, 'man up, stand up and just commit', really does hold true?  

Goals

I have never been much of a natural climber, however, I make up for this with bucket loads of enthusiasm. So much so, someone accused me of moving in at the wall yesterday. However, my total lack of ability makes achieving my goals all the more difficult, what is easy to the majority, is certainly not easy to me.  I am tall and I am female and both those things mean that I climb differently to many people that I know, it takes me time and a lot of effort to find a way to move that works for me.  And often I am scared, mostly on lead, and it is hard to overcome a paralysing fear that clouds your head and makes you want to vomit.  But I am also determined.  I want to be a good climber, I want to do better, climb harder, achieve more and so I keep trying.  Session, after session, after session.  I don't think I will ever be satisfied, but then is that not what drives you on?  The knowledge that after every achievement there is a new goal to strive for?  That your best is not actually your best?  That you can always take it that little bit further?

There is a joke at the moment about personal Dawn Walls, but I think the idea is very true.  We all have that thing that we want to do, that seems totally unachievable but with work and with effort is attainable.  I don't think it matters if this is an 8a in Catalunya or in my case, 6a at the wall, no matter what standard of climber you are, it is good to have ambition and no one should ever be dismissive of anyone else's dream, even if, to them, it seems a mere trifle.

I am learning too about the mental game and how far you can go with supportive people around you.  Those couple of partners who know better than yourself what you can achieve and so they make you do it.  And then, when you make it to the top, you realise that they were right and that what you said you couldn't do was achievable after all.  Those little words of encouragement, the pointing out of the screw ons you've missed, the discussion of beta or coaching points learned together, the willingness to sit on a rope for 20 minutes ('Well, it was faster than the Dawn Wall, but only just'), the words 'just try one more time', the gentle bullying when you say that you can't.  And slowly but surely, because they know you can do it, you also begin to believe that you might actually be able to do it after all.  And it doesn't matter if the goal is 'only' a 4 (over an overhang that 2 months ago induced a genuine panic attack and an overwhelming desire to vomit on their heads), they never belittle the achievement.  It's about finding people to climb with who encourage you to grow your own self belief and without self belief, it's very hard to push the envelope.

So what do I want to achieve?  Well this adventure started because I want to go to Kalymnos at the end of September with the Original and Best climbing partner and, having already been Siurana, think that to have an even better time, I need to climb harder. So...

I want to lead 6a indoors
Lead 6a outdoors
Lead a Severe (and maybe a VS if it's nice)
Boulder V4 indoor, maybe f6a outdoor?
Climb outside as much as possible - Trad, sport, bouldering
Go on climbing road trips
Have fun
Have adventures

I don't know if I can do these things, I don't know if I have reached the natural ceiling of my abilities.  A few months ago I would have said I had, but now I am not so sure.  I may not climb hard, but I still climb better than I did and so if I keep working, maybe be I can improve that little bit more.

I suppose, in the end, it will all come down to self belief....