Mission trad

This month the sun does not seem to have stopped shining and I have made the absolute most of the weather to get out and climb. There have been routes on grit, limestone and rhyolite, in West Yorkshire, North Yorkshire, the Dales, Peak District and in the Lakes. Most have been single pitch, but yesterday was a proper multi-multi-pitch adventure.

Completely uncharacteristically, the forecast for the May bank holiday seemed to keep improving as the weekend approached and the Simple Chick and I deliberated long and hard about where we were going to go for our long standing climbing date. Settling for Windgather, we set off down the M62, ropes, rack and tents packed.

Our session was about gaining more confidence to climb together and to look after ourselves, without one of our more experienced partners on hand to bail us out, if necessary. My confidence on the sharp end is virtually zero, with every single move I make, I cannot help but see the potential (serious) consequences of making a mistake. I feel like I am in a complete climbing rut and I have no idea how to get out of it. It would be easy for me to just give up and second routes all day long but that simply is not who I am, I do not want to be a follower, I want to be an independent, confident and safe climber, swinging leads on a Lakeland multi-pitch. 

The Simple Chick at the belay

So I keep on climbing and keep on trying to lead things that I like the look of. My mates, older and more experienced, tell me that plugging away leading low grade routes when I fancy them is the best thing to do, but I feel frustrated that I don't seem to be able to get over what appears to be a fear of dying. I would like to say the fear was unfounded and irrational, but it is not.

Girls who love rock!

Windgather is a friendly crag and the Simple Chick and I knew there was plenty to go at, well within our comfort zone. So we led, turn about, picking whatever we fancied, trying hard to get good gear placements and well, more time on rock. My head went a couple of times and I must have spent a good half an hour, rooted to the spot on one route, convinced that the move I knew I had to make was going to result in a foot slip... and death. So I laced the crack with gear and after about 900 false attempts ('I'm going to die!', 'You're not going to die.', 'I'm going to die!' etc), I went for it and then just kept going until I reached a massive ledge. When I stopped shaking, I wondered, as did the old boy who had been watching and listening to me, what the hell the fuss had been about.

Long Legs on Raven Crag

Fast forward a few days and my other mate and I found ourselves in Langdale, a plan for a multi-pitch adventure having been hatched over a post-climb beer. We started up Raven Crag and, after 5 pitches of climbing, walked up and across to Gimmer Crag. The latter seemed high and imposing and on initial inspection, the supposedly easy route seemed blank, but it was not. The climb was excellent, high above the valley floor, with an awesome view all around. But I was nervous, even on second, because my 'can't do' head had appeared. This was new territory and I did not know what to expect, but the holds kept coming and the more I climbed, the more I enjoyed it. After an even better second pitch, I was in love with Gimmer Crag (always listen to the Simple Chick!) and already want to go back. The top pitch became more scrambly, and arriving at the belay and reaching a wide grass ledge, my remaining cheese sandwich was very welcome indeed. 

View from the bottom of Gimmer Crag

My mate, who is a far better climber than me, led all the pitches and I think, had I tried, I would have felt under so much pressure from the following pair, that my confidence would have been even less than normal, but I can't help feeling disappointed that I didn't lead at least one pitch. This is the sort of stuff I want to do - comfortable climbing, on long routes, in amazing places - if only I knew how to sort out my head...

View from the top of Gimmer Crag

The need for rock

The Simple Chick and I made a decision a few weeks ago to make our trad season happen. Last year, as sunny days passed by, I threw myself into running, but it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that it broke my heart to not be out on rock. Life and circumstances change and I now know many more safe and competent climbers to get outdoors with and, for the next four months at least, I am free to get out whenever the weather is favourable.

A smiling Simple Chick at Stanage

For the past few weeks, the sun seems to have just kept shining and I have actually managed to get out climbing. I was perhaps surprised to find that the events of last year are still at the forefront of my mind, even when seconding I am sometimes frightened and I am now unbelievably cautious on lead. I don't want to go above my own gear - because I have seen gear (not my own) fail, with serious consequences.  But something else curious has happened, perhaps because of the added Vitamin D, perhaps because it gets me away from my PhD, perhaps because of the inherent mindfulness of the very act of climbing, but for these last few weeks of frequent trad excursions, I have have felt far more at peace with myself than I have done for several months. The more time I spend wielding hexes, the things that have been upsetting me seem to be carried away on the ever present wind.

Trying to muster the courage to jam on lead...

And to me, climbing, particularly on gritstone, remains a challenge. I constantly have to fight my own fears, my perception of my limitations and my hands are scabbed from learning to jam, but even if I have been shut down on routes and despite having so much still to learn, of all the different aspects of climbing that exist, I know that trad is my 'thing'. The way that it makes me feel and the way I feel about climbing trad, are almost impossible to encapsulate in words - it is as if I 'need' to climb to make myself whole.

P making up another route at Almscliff

I want to spend every minute of good weather this summer out on the rock with my friends. I no longer care about the inconsequential ins and outs, and ups and downs, of real life, for me, climbing transcends it all.

As time and time again I find myself saying, 'I just want to go climbing'.

Scary Mary atop 'It's Scary Mary' (S 4a) at Stanage

The rabbit move

The Baron, drinking coffee from on high and without the benefit of sound, seemed quite amused as the Simple Chick and I apparently embraced, undertook a short dance routine and started imitating rabbits between climbs. In reality, of course, we were discussing the moves of the Simple Chick's project, going through the sequence before she climbed again.

The rabbit move

A few weeks previously, I had belayed as she climbed her hardest lead. I was so proud of her breaking through another grade barrier, particularly as I knew that she was perfectly capable of climbing the route, but that she just didn't THINK that she could do it. Following this success, and the accompanying mini high that I think all climbers chase, she set her sights on the next grade and a lovely route on the same wall. We spent a few sessions working it, concentrating on the little traverse sequence at the top.

On her next attempt, as she neared the top, I think the man next to me was quite amused as I shouted 'it's the rabbit move' and watched her execute the sequence smoothly and easily. She smashed it!

The Simple Chick post crush

Later on, I think for the 5th time that night, having taken a proper fall from the hard move, another silly fall and having backed off twice, once due to the shock of actually doing the hard move(!), I gave my project one final try. The Simple Chick said we were not leaving until I had done it (and promised me a pint if I did), but in truth, I was getting tired and running out of chances.

Reinvigorated with high calorie tiffin and yet another coffee, before I knew it, I had clipped the 6th clip and faced the hard move, now slightly refined with the Simple Chick's help. There was no choice, I had to keep going this time. Stepping up, my hand landed solidly on the triangle and I tried hard to compose myself for the final sequence. I heard the Simple Chick cheer me on as I moved my right foot, clipped, brought my left foot in and right foot out, frogged, moved my body over, stepped up and reached up for the jug, letting out a rather loud 'YES!' as I clipped the anchor.

A very happy Long Legs

I was buzzing when I reached the ground - it was just such a rush to finally get a route clean that I had been working for a while and which at times had felt completely unachievable. And for me, the most interesting part was that the very first time I went near the route, I could barely get past the second clip on top rope - at that point I never believed I would ever lead a 6c.

Long Legs and the Simple Chick enjoy a very well earned celebratory beer

And so, this all made me start to think... Perhaps I can achieve what I want to achieve if I put the work in, maybe I really can climb harder, perhaps I haven't reached the limits of my abilities after all? Clearly training and trying harder routes each week has reaped rewards, my fingers are stronger and I feel that I am getting a little better at reading sequences. There is no doubt that Main Wall Monday has paid huge dividends, steep angles that a few months ago were exhausting, seem so much easier now. 

Dave MacLeod (my hero!) talks in his book about being open about your goals so I am now going to share mine - I would like to lead a 7a indoors and a 6b on the Main Wall before the end of 2016. In the past, I would have said there was no way I could do either of these things, but now I think, why not? If I plan my approach and train accordingly, I can certainly give both objectives a damn good try.

More than anything, I am really looking forward to the fun that the Simple Chick, and my other friends and I, are going to have, as we work our routes, get outdoors and train hard for the rest of this year.

Climbing is always a very, very serious business