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