Bouldering Abroad: Charlie and Tom in Iledia

This post was meant to go up many moons ago; this trip that Charlie and Tom took (without me, I'll add sans bitterness) was meant to be posted just after they got back. That was in April. August isn't too long to wait I suppose...

And with that, I hand you over to the ever charming Charlie.

Day 1

After a long drive the night before (mainly as a result of my misplacing my driving license) Tom had negotiated the hair-raising hairpin bends of the Pyrenean foothills. Our base was to be Santa Engracia 15km outside of the nearest town of Tremp. This was an ideal launch site for our many jollies in days to come. 

We allowed ourselves a lie in and didn’t get going much before 1pm. Usually this would have been a source of frustration but, due to an excellent forecast and travel weariness, there was no rush. Todays climbing was to be a gentle easing into the week with a short mooch to El Niu, a sector in the Collegats Area. These limestone slabs would provide the canvas for our grunting and inelegant renditions. Neither of us could claim to be experienced sport climbers so there were a number of disciplines that we needed to get our heads round, although none of them would take us far beyond what we have acquired from our time in the peaks and southern sandstone at home. The climbing was excellent with grades ranging from IV+ to 7b. Good footwork being the key as hand holds were not always forthcoming. The crags orientation meant that we were provided with shade from the heat of the afternoon sun and allowing shares in Nivea to remain stable (I do not tan well). An evening of eating and guidebook consultation followed.

Day 2 

We had settled on Sector Cine as our area of exploit for the days climbing with excellent recommendations from the guidebook. Promising unique rock formations that supposedly inspired Gaudi architecture in Barcelona we had high hopes. Unfortunately we were to be disappointed. The walk in was unnavigable with every turn seemingly herding us into a cul-de-sac of rotten, overhanging mudstone. Upon attempting a “direct” approach over said overhang, only to have a large section fall away, we thought that we should double back and find another way. The “20 minute” walking had become a 1.5 hour mission. Upon deciphering the maze of false tracks we reached the foot of the crag slightly deflated. We roped up and I set off onto a V+.

The experience we had had with the rock on our approach did little to inspire confidence in the bolt placement let alone hand or foot. I called it quits 1 bolt from the chains just below an overhang. Tom decided not to let my wetness quash his attempt and had a go. With loud expletives he managed the move that I had wimped out of and cleaned the route saving us from leaving equipment at the scene. After a few more routes we

decided that we were “not having a nice time” and retreated to the nearby El Niu where I massaged my bruised ego on some routes next to those we had scaled the day before.

Day 3

We decided to make the long drive to Cavallers right into the Pyrenees. Upon arrival we found that the road

was closed due to avalanche risk. This felt a little cautious as our trusty Fiat Panda’s thermometer was showing 27 degrees...we were scuppered. Having committed to the longer journey we had no choice but to call this a “rest day” ate our packed lunch and made for home.

Day 4

Having spoken to our host we took her advice and travelled south near to the village of Camrasa where there is a huge climbing area right next to a huge HEP dam. Keen to make up for lost time, we roped up outside the car and set up off the first route on the Mercant Estil sector. The pocketed limestone walls were a vast improvement on the fragile muddy conglomerate of El Cine in Collegats, as was the 1 minute walk in. After a few successful climbs we found ourself at the foot of “el dedo de Satan”. Due to its relatively diminutive height we thought that this could be done.... Its a 7b+. We assured ourselves that, with a top rope, there was no way we could fail. This was not the case I managed the first 3 moves with Tom only 1 further before we decided that perhaps this wasn’t “in our locker” This was a real eye opener at the terrifying ability of those that can wriggle their way up 50 meter 9b’s. We tackled what was my favourite route so far. Miss Linda (6a) was a 15m series of honeycombed rock face which cemented this area as the best outdoor climbing experience I have had.

Day 5

Undeterred by the abortive jolly to Cavallers we decided to make another long drive to Coll de Nargo. We arrived at a crag called Gegants which consisted of towering free standing spires which looked somewhat beyond our grade. Never the less we toiled down a dirt road which was a bridge too far for the mighty Panda. After a particularly european approach to parking (fuck it, here will do) we continued on foot to find some good limestone climbing which consisted of slabby sections with tough boulder like problems thrown in. This was enjoyed with a bizarre backing track of incessant bleating of the sheep heard grazing at the foot of the crag.

Day 6

Having has such a fantastic session on day 4 we decided to return to Camarasa which would cap off the holiday. We moved ourself along the crag around the routes we had previously scaled. As we tired the approach to the routes became a little less serious which lead to many of, what Tom would refer to as, “postures sexy”...

This at one point involved what is likely to be the first use of a “tree hook” (the arboreal descendant of a heel hook). We spent the rest of the afternoon pootling up 6a’s and V+’s and headed home for some grub and packing :(

Summary

This was our first taste of outdoor sport climbing which is remarkably different to those gritty trad offerings of the peak district. We found that once we trusted the reliability of bolts and suppressed the terror of re-threading the rope through the chains, we could start to really push our grade without the nagging doubt in that marginal wire placement in a crumbly crack. Lleida was a beautiful place with a huge range of routes for all abilities (despite what the guide books would have you believe. I cannot recommend it highly enough!

I would also recommend our accommodation which was very plush for the tiny cost and comes with its own, very knowledgeable, host and mother of one of the GB bouldering squad.

http://www.ownersdirect.co.uk/accommodation/p8001114?uni_id=2

Top Gear Mountaineer goes to the Movies

As I've mentioned previously, back in March I did some work for a brand on an advertising campaign. I couldn't say who, what or where or who with but I can now reveal all. What I was working on was the campaign for new releases in the Adidas Terrex footwear range: the Solo and the Scope.

We spent three days filming in the Snowdonia mountain range, and it was a really interesting experience to be in front of the camera. Watching the final piece was really interesting, especially being able to piece shots together and knowing what was filmed where and when and how.

I also had the very special experience of being able to work alongside some genuinely famous people: Al Humphreys, adventurer and adventure writer par excelence; Alex Messenger, climber, BMC officer and editor of the UK's official climbing magazine Summit and Shauna Coxsey, International Gold-Medal winning boulderer. I was brought along purely for technical knowledge and if I'm honest it was kind of intimidating working with such big names in the industry.

Anyway, less of me, more of the videos.


Oh, and there's this one. I get to talk in this!




So that's it. I'm now famous.

I'll have my people call your people.

The Nature of Danger

As a climber, young person and general man-about-town I often get or overhear comments about climbing, such as 'oooh isn't that dangerous' or 'oooh I couldn't do that' or 'wow that looks dangerous, you're so manly' (well...sometimes). It makes me sad and a little angry when I hear these comments, because they make me think about something that honestly doesn't enter my mind a lot - how dangerous is this sport that I enjoy so much? So I decided to write about it, and see what you guys think.

I'm going to start with a fundamental truth, from which no one can escape: Climbing is dangerous. There, I said it. Don't come and yell at me; everyone knows and acknowledges this. If they don't, then they are certifiably insane. Those lovely folks at the BMC posts massive info graphics at every climbing center in the country, reminding participants that climbing carries risk of injury or death, and that we all take on those risks by participating. It's even on the footer of their website. That isn't to say everyone who climbs will lose a limb or die or get mangled; incredibly few do, for a sport that has such high participation numbers and takes people to such extreme places as the Swiss Alps, the Peruvian Andes and the exotica of the English Peak District. And that, dear readers, is due to a recognition of risk.

The happy notice in the footer of the BMC website

No one, not even the absolutely mental free-climbing highballers would say that climbing isn't risky; it's one of the reasons we invest eye-wateringly large amounts of money in the latest protection and gear and (some of us at least) will quite willingly spend hours in Snow and Rock, Cotswolds, UrbanRock or any of dozens of other climbing shops picking the strongest, or the lightest or sportiest quickdraw or cam. It's because we're all absolutely terrified of falling and we want to know that the gear we just placed into the wall is the best it can be, to make up for our relative ineptitude at actually placing the stuff. It's why we spend loads of money on Winter Skills courses - we don't want to guess at how to do it and get it wrong.

Danger attracts many of us to climbing in the first place, for at a base fundamental level most of us are massive adrenaline junkies. You only have to look at the top-level climbers and mountaineers such as Berghaus primo Leo Houlding who, once the buzz of going up things has worn off, decide to take up paragliding or wingusit skydiving or any number of high-intensity extreme sports. For most of us, we never reach a level at which climbing cannot provide a buzz - we're never quite good enough. But it must be said that it's the danger of it that makes it fun; that enormous endorphin rush that hits you when you top out of a climb or pass a big crux without falling to your demise. And it doesn't matter about objective risk; in terms of thrill it's the perception of risk that makes it so much fun.

It's accepting and embracing of risk that I believe inherently makes you a safer and better climber. Its
accepting risk that means you have the fear that makes you cling like a man possessed to the rock with massive run out and shaky protection. It's also the accepting of the fact that there is risk that makes you cautious and aware; its what makes you back off a route when the surrounding slopes are aching to avalanche, or the sky is dark with heavy storm clouds and you're approaching a big multi-pitch sea cliff. It's also what makes me buy bright coloured jackets - if I get lost out on a mountain at night, I want Mountain Rescue to be able to find me. I mean it might also be an aesthetic choice but there's logic behind the decisions. No mountain-ninja melting into the darkness for me.

Honestly I believe it's the existence and recognition of risk that makes me a safer climber; if I didn't recognize it, I wouldn't prepare for it. Plus, it makes this stuff fun enough to keep coming back to.

Here's to a summer of safe climbing, but make sure it's fun.

More Internet Housework

Facebook
I'm finally embracing social media in the way I should; Top Gear Mountaineer now has a Facebook page! I'll be using it to keep everyone updated with blog posts, sling up funny or interesting things I find on the internet that are a bit too small to make a post and more up-to-date news and photos. A bit of something for everyone.

Find it here, click the link, like it and share posts with everyone who matters Top Gear Mountaineer Facebook Page !


Alex Jones's Moonlight Buttress bid
Some of you may know, some of you may not know but Alex Jones (off the One Show and other BBC goodness) has completed a big-wall ascent of all 1,200ft of Moonlight Buttress in Utah. the BMC has been supporting her, and in respect of her climb, they have decided to donate all the profits of their new beginner's magazine 'Get into Climbing' to Sport Relief until 1st April.

So go out and buy it - the money goes to a good cause and it might just get you into this climbing lark, which is never a bad thing. Find all you need to know here: Alex Jones Completes Moonlight Buttress




Twitter So I've been getting more active and vocal on twitter; if you want micro updates as to what I'm doing (and general rantings and angry posts about pushy people on London trains...) follow me @jimmydoodoo

Film stars and ultimate primadonnas

Where I've been... Those of you who DO follow me on twitter will know I've been away for a few days in Snowdonia on a little project. I can reveal that what I was doing was filming the advert for the new Adidas Outdoor Stealth range of shoes. A very fun project that got me into contact with a personal hero and some fantastic people, including Shauna Coxsey (World-ranked boulderer, professional climber, Adidas Athlete and good egg), Al Humphreys (Adventurer, author, blogger and cracker-outer of excellent cheese-based jokes) and Alex Messenger (An important man to British Mountaineers...) I'll let you find out who they are in detail, but definitely check them out! It was a pretty unique experience, in some ways good and some ways bad - seeing behind the lens does kill some of the mystique of cinematography, and trying to avoid looking directly down the lens when having a closeup is nigh-on impossible. But then I got a trip to Wales, and that's always good in my book!
The campaign (and shoes) goes live on the 5th May, so keep your eyes peeled and you might just see me hovering in the background of a film over Shauna's shoulder... Oh, and the shoes aren't bad either!

Finally, Gear Reviews It seems a lot of people have been enjoying the couple of gear reviews I've put up; with that in mind, Gear Spotter is going to expand and have far more attention over the next few months. If there is any gear you want me to review, or a category of kit to explain, let me know through the Facebook or Twitter pages and I'll see what I can do!

The Gear Spotter: Lowe Alpine Alpine Attack 45:55 Backpack Review

Introduction

I've seen in my time outdoors and in retail that packs, especially small-to-mid size packs are often underanalysed, when in truth they should be the cornerstone of a climber's gear. After all, they carry all your gear to and from the crag or up and down the hill - if they're badly designed or uncomfortable they can turn a good day bad and a bad day utterly awful.

Lowe Alpine is a solid, well-respected brand in the Outdoors world, building packs and clothing (intermittently) since the mid 1970's, drawing on experience gained by the Lowe family in climbing and alpinism. Today it's owned by Equip, a UK based company but still churns out extremely high quality gear for both outdoors people and photographers with their Lowe Pro range. Everything is designed to be sleek, go-faster, no massive frills and functional.

The Review

In use as a daysack on Etive Mor, Jan 2014

This pack has been with me everywhere since I bought it in mid-2013, from simple weekends at music festivals to carrying all my gear in Scotland and Wales. It's been used as a shopping bag and a haul sack, a pillow and a seat,as well as its intdended use as an alpinism pack. And after all this use and abuse over almost a full year, it barely looks used a day. The build quality and resilliance on this is absolutely astounding - even for a Lowe Alpine product. I had an Airzone 35:45 before that started to give way after about a year of continuous use - I've used this the same, if not harder and as I said, it barely looks like it's been taken out of the packaging. It's been used to carry gear and rack for a day on Ben Nevis and everything I need for a weekend's climbing and camping in Froggatt - there's nothing I've thrown at this that it hasn't been able to do.

The overall design of the pack is simple, streamlined and functional - a single large sack, a lid with two pockets and an excellent back system. The back itself isn't adjustable, so I'd recommend trying on in store before you buy - the 45:55 is longer and wider, for larger backs, whilst its smaller 35:45 brother is far more suited to narrower, shorter backs. If that doesn't work, they do a 'women's fit' ND version, try that on for size, it's just harder to find in store. On the standard size fits like a glove and I can honestly say it's never given me any kind of back pain, even with heavy weights and long distances. The straps are a little narrow, especially higher on the shoulder but give good stability when on the move, and the chest strap on the new (2014) version is, I think, far more prone to failure than the tried-and-tested version on my (2013) model but that's the only gripe on the load-bearing system I can think of. I'm yet to find anything that matches it as an alpinism pack. I would have preferred some extra external storage - some pockets or somesutch so I don't have to dive into my actual pack for a thermos or gloves, but I know why they haven't and I can live without them.

The headlocker system in
play - beautiful and simple

The buckle design, whilst not being ground breaking and innovative is extremely strong and effective. Unlike quick-release buckles that tend to have a tendency to fail at the worst time and let all the stuff stored under the lid spill down the side of a crag, the solid metal double-back buckle is absolutely bombproof and even comes in handy as an emergency bottle opener for summit brews! The webbing that makes up the rest of the buckle is solid, as would be expected, but the stitching and attachment points are all absolutely fantastic - almost up to the same kind of standard as used on climbing harnesses, so you can yank it down as hard as you want and it'll just ask for more - a good thing to have in a pack with floating lid capacity.

The lid itself is another work of simplicity and genius - a total floating piece, adjustable to an enormous degree to allow for the stuffing of those jackets, ropes, racks, shoes, small children and baguettes that just won't fit in the main sack. It could be potentially improved by making the lid totally removable without extensive fiddling to act as a simple sack, but that's a tiny gripe for such an impressive pack.

One item of note is the headlocker ice axe attachment system - it's simply brilliant, yet such a simple system that I'm honestly surprised that no one thought about it before. A single attachment bar passes through the leash hole that's found in the head of every axe and two attachments higher up. No matter how technical or simple the axe it'll fit, and it's not going anywhere unless you want it to. Tighten the pack up and the system is tight. Simple but brilliant.

Conclusions

Huge recommendation for the Alpine Attack packs - the one thing I'd say is to check what size you're using at the moment and work out if you need more, less, or the same space. They swallow a surprising amount of kit and when under-loaded the straps can sometimes can lack a bit of adjustment. But for the sheer amount of stuff you can...well stuff into one of these and the load remain stable and comfortable, I'd say it's definitely worth the investment. And just like any gear, look after it and it'll look after you - but this one can take a hell of a beating

Pros

+ Excellent back system for alpinism and climbing - hugs the load to the body

+ Fold-away waist strap padding makes it comfortable with and without harness

+ Headlocker ice axe system is both simple and incredibly effective

Cons

- Simple sack system lacks any exterior pockets

- Shoulder straps are a little too narrow for those with wider backs

For more in the Gear Spotter range of reviews, check them out here

What a difference a year makes

For those of you who have followed this little corner of the internet since its birth, it will be common knowledge that this blog is now a year old. So too is my love affair with climbing. A chilly evening in late January, my boss (at the time) and a measly £25 joining fee and gear rental was all that it took to spawn what is, at its barest an obsession with going up things and being extremely cold.

I would say I've done quite a lot for only a year's climbing - I've gone from top-roping 3's and 4's indoors to comfortably leading 5+ and attempting 6's indoors and  VDiff outdoors. I've gone from absolutely no knowledge of technique both technical and physical, to at least a solid base understanding of knots, their uses, weight transfer, footwork, body positioning, crampon use, ice axe technique and all the other things fundamental to climbing and mountaineering. I can build a safe belay and bring up a second, rig a recoverable abseil and use it safely, I can front-point, plunge step, (just about) climb Scottish mixed and navigate my way off a mountain relatively safely.

In the mountains I've experienced the highs and the lows - from seeing the sun rise over the Western Highlands from 500m up Etive Mor to suffering debilitating wind and rain on the summit of Glydr Fawr. I've learned success is never guaranteed - you're at the mercy of the mountain, the weather and your own physical condition. Self-reliance is a huge part of climbing - knowing that you set that bomber anchor, you placed that cam properly, you tied those knots right. There can be no space for 'that'll do' or 'I hope this works'. It must be perfect every time. The responsibility is huge, lots of the time even as a second you're attached to another human being by two dozen meters of 11mm dynamic kernmantel climbing rope, and if you fail for a split second that could be game over. It also teaches you maturity - the mountains are no respecter of manliness or drive - if it's time to back off you pay attention and listen. It's not a game for those of a nervous disposition.

The people I've met have been amazing - from building a solid friendship with Charlie, my climbing partner (who will hopefully start to contribute to this place soon enough...) to industry reps, professional climbers and enthusiastic amateurs. Being a climber is like being in a massive extended family - everyone knows what you've been through or are going through, or are looking to you for guidance. Everyone has a story and most everyone is willing to share. Even those not of the climbing fraternity, but those who support them like the lovely staff at Pete's Eats in Llanberis or the lovely couple who put us up for a whole weak in Strathssynt, Glencoe. Everyone has a part to play and I can say I'm very glad I got to meet them.

It's also shown up flaws in myself - arrogance, impatience, lack of physical condition and a penchant for obsession I didn't know I quite had. Before I started climbing I would occasionally browse motorcycle websites, glance at properties to rent or browse 9gag. Now my internet history is filled with endless climbing blogs, route plans, gear offers and inspirational videos. Hardly a day goes by when I don't think 'hey, that looks fun to climb', even wandering around the artificial landscape of London. I'm forever annoying Charlie with pipe dreams of Alpine glory or a daring first ascent in one of the unconquered ranges that still exist in the world. He quickly brings me back to reality but it doesn't last long - I'm soon dreaming again.

I've been climbing for a year and I've had a wealth of experiences that some climbers wouldn't have in their entire lives - indoor, midlands gritstone, bomber indoor ice, patchy neve, powdery welsh windslab and slabby scottish mixed. The plans for the future go even further and farther afield - Finnish waterfall Ice, French Granite and hopefully even some Alpine routes. The training is upped, but so is the interest - I've gone from having a casual interest to seriously considering this as a career. I could quite happily spend the rest of my life going up and down mountains in all conditions and sharing that with anyone who wanted to listen. There are even first steps of that happening already.

I hope you've enjoyed being with me on the trip so far, and I hope you'll continue to follow me for a long time to come. It should be a blast.

Winter in Wales - Glydr Fawr and Crib Goch

There's an old adgage that I've stuck by all through my time in the outdoors, one my father told me. "Any fool can rough it, but it takes a skilled man to make himself comfortable in any situation." This has resonated with me; where others will take only the bare essentials and suffer the consequences, I've been happier to carry a little extra weight for a lot of extra comfort.

However, there are times when even the most prepared man has to rough it. I had to do it, in driving horizontal sleet on Glydr Fawr. In winter. Boy was I roughing it.

The storm that the UK's been suffering for several months showed it's teeth whilst we were there - on our first day we started out on a bleak, damp midwinter's day which quickly developed into the worst conditions I've ever experienced on a mountain. Horizontal, 45 mile an hour driven sleet, rain and hail greeted us in different stages. The wind was just about bearable, but me and Charlie are both 100+kg and it was giving us difficulties, especially on the higher slopes. Whilst it didn't make the ascent any fun per se, it did make it a challenge. Even putting crampons on was sketchy, as everything threatened to get blown over the ridge line at a moment's notice. It was even windy enough to affect the outcome of an HDR shot I took of the mountain.

After we crossed the snowline (which was only around 200m below the summit) the ascent got nice and fun.
With crampons on we tramped up the approach slope, careful to give a wide berth to the cornice sat in the nearby saddle. It wasn't technical, it wasn't difficult but it felt fun to front-point up the last of the slope, haul myself up onto the summit ridge and then tramp the last few hundred meters up to the summit.

The decision on the summit was that we really didn't want to hang around - when you have to bellow to be heard and can barely open your eyes because you've got vicious winds being driven at you, you don't want to hang around on the most exposed bit of mountain. Not to mention we were both soaked to the skin having forgotten to bring waterproof trousers. We thought we'd make a swift descent to the car, dry socks and warmth. Charlie, being more sure on his feet than me in the deep powder snow we were encountering trotted down rapidly, whilst I took the slow, steady 'plunge step' approach.

All in all, though, it only took us 3 hours to go up and down a 1001m mountain - a massive improvement on my pace from Scotland, which is a positive. However we were absolutely drenched - I had pools of water in my boots and I stretched my softshell trousers beyond their elastic limit - they went all baggy! I'll tell you something for free - the drying room at the hostel was very well used that night, and I was very, very thankful we decided to stay in a hostel rather than camp. We'd have had a mare of a time if we'd done that...

Day 2 was to be a winter repeat of a route we'd done the last time we were here - the Crib Goch route up Snowdon. Whilst you might say what's the point, it's something you've already done, it's a totally different undertaking when covered by a thick blanket of snow and blasted by icy winter winds. Especially when that snow is poor condition, thick, deep and exhausting. Much of it was the same, yes - but much of it was different, and it was an interesting approach. It took longer than last time, and we had some whiteout, which was an interesting experience. Everything just dissappears and you lose all perspective of distance, space or even direction - thankfully I had a massive yellow lump to follow who knew the ridge and the line we had to take. At least there was one of us...


The walk off Snowdon, however, was the most difficult bit of the day. The snow was terrible - incredibly deep and seemingly hollow underneath - me and Charlie both repeatedly fell into the snow up to our crotches, but only one leg at a time, so the other would fold comically underneath us as we struggled to use our axe and hands to stand up. I even snagged some pleasant holes in my softshells, including putting my front points through the back of my knee, which wasn't too much fun. It's just another thing to buy, I guess...

All in all though, this trip was more a battle with poor conditions and exhaustion than a technical challenge, orfun per se. But hey, you've got to have the bad days to make the good ones worth it. Hopefully a period of calm some time in the next month or so will allow us to have some fun before this winter season ends. Having said that though, a good portion of me is excited for a summer's climbing. I graduate university in May, and after that all I have to do for summer is find a job and climb.