Sorry to disappoint but this will only be a short post as I am very tired and want to go to bed. On Friday I finished a week long shift at work, which is always a great thing. I caught a lift back to Manchester and had a meeting with Dave Turnbull, the big boss of the British Mountaineering Council to discuss some exciting future plans. More information will follow over the next few months, but it is safe to say the meeting wet pretty well.

I rushed home, packed my bags and jumped on a plane to Switzerland. I had been asked to give a presentation at The North Face booth at the Outdoor Show in Friedrichshafen but due to my manic schedule over the last few weeks, I was not as prepared as I would have liked. I did my best to put something interesting together on the journey over, and during any spare time I had at the show, until 4.30 arrived and it was time to go on.

Thankfully it went really well, and I got a lot of great feedback, making all the stress and nerves worthwhile. Actually, I found the whole show quite overwhelming. The sheer scale of it is just immense and the party that night was no exception. I don’t know how many thousands of people there were, but most looked to be having loads of fun, dancing into the early hours, which is what a good party is all about.

The following morning, I was back on a plane looking forward to a good night’s sleep in my own house before setting off again for the south of England to spend more time on my project.

I hope to be able to find internet access whilst I am away so I can keep you updated with daily blogs so watch this space.

Right, I am off to bed.

Night night

Devon Days

Day 5

Surprise, surprise. The rain stopped play. As Saturday slipped by, Sundays forecast got worse and worse until the radar showed almost continuous torrential rain all day. I woke feeling sad and disappointed but quickly checked my computer in the hope that something may have changed overnight. It was worse than ever, not a chance for climbing, nothing to do but pack up and head home.

Dave and I said goodbye to our friends and started on the long northwards drive. I was in a pretty low mood for the journey and an sure that I was not the best company for Dave but he did his best to cheer me up.

I feel like I could have climbed the route today but have been held back by forces out of my control and this is very frustrating. What's more frustrating is that due to other factors that are out of my control (read work!), I wont be able to get back on the route for almost 3 weeks, which right about now, feels like an eternity away.

As most obsessive climbers will know, projects get in your head and under your skin and if it is particularly big or important project, it is difficult to focus on anything else. You wake up, go about your day, and go to sleep with the moves and sequences whizzing round your head and as usual happens when you are focused on a specific point in the future, the present seems to go on for ever.

But deep down I know time will run away from me as fast as it always does and there are plenty of things I need to do. For one, I need to work really hard on my fitness for the next 4 days, because as soon as Friday comes I will be locked away, with no climbing for 9 days and I don't want to feel like a sack of spuds when I finally get back on the route.

So James... Chin up, quit your whining and get on with life!

Now, doesn't that feel better... ;)

Day 3

My toes were still sore and the prospect of another long day standing on tiny edges was not a pleasant one. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on perspective, the weather forecast showed heavy rain moving in at midday and so I decided on spending the morning focusing on two short sections of the route; the bold start, and the sustained upper crux. The reasons for practicing the bold start are fairly obvious, but I also wanted to make sure I had the most efficient foot sequence for the upper crux to make sure I have the best possible chance of succeeding on the unrelenting hard moves to the top of the wall.

I set up the fixed ropes as simply as possible and packed up the remainder of my gear to allow for a quick escape in case of sudden downpour. As I stepped over the edge, the now familiar feeling of being very insignificant flooded back to me. The wall feels so vast. I have spent a time climbing on much bigger walls but these are all split up with belays, ledges, or other features and somehow don’t feel quite as massive. This wall on the other hand is featureless, there is nothing to take your attention from the fact you are very small, and utterly alone.

I slid slowly to the bottom of the wall, checking out potential gear placements and pulling on holds trying to warm my fingers up. After donning some comfortable shoes to ease the pain on my toes I pulled on to the first moves of the route and began to climb. The moves felt surprisingly hard and I juts managed them, move by move by the skin of my teeth. I went back down to refine my sequence and started to fall off most of the moves. The rock felt really greasy and the moves felt uncomfortable, I imagined myself on the lead and the thought was frightening. One move in particular sees a long reach, to a “wrong way slanting” edge, off a “wrong way slanting” foothold. As you stretch and reach over yourself, your foot is less and less on the hold and you pray that it will remain in contact long enough to allow you to get a precise hold on the wrong way slanting” edge. Blowing this move will see you falling towards the boulders, 10 meters below, flipping forwards as you fall.

I continued to practice the moves and decided on a favoured overall sequence. I gave the whole sequence an attempt to see if I could manage it, despite the bad conditions, if I dug deep and gave all my efforts. I made it to the good holds and the first good gear with a couple of minor slips. It felt hard but it gave me confidence that I could do it if I tried hard.

Here is a short clip of the very bold first 10m. The ground is about 3m below my feet at the start.

I abed back down and walked to the top of the crag. Fine droplets of rain had started to fall and HotAches had already packed up. I wanted to look at one last section before I called it a day so I quickly abed back in. I lowered myself to the start of the upper crux, trying to memorise the holds and sequence on my way past. I started to climb and steadily made upwards progress. I had a lot of excess gear on my harness, acting as a kind of weight belt and wore my comfortable boots because of my sore toes. Even with these hindrances, I remembered the sequence and successfully linked to the top with a big smile on my face.

Quickly I packed up my equipment and walked back to the car. On the way I considered my thoughts and feelings about my progress on the route. I am happy with what I have so far achieved and feel that with a little bit more work on one specific section on the upper wall I may be ready to get on the sharp end on my next session.

Unfortunately, the rain looks set to stay for today and tomorrow but at the moment, Sunday looks good. I am going to head back to Keith’s house for a rest day and to make plans. If all stays as it is now, then I will return on Sunday for a possible lead attempt.

How exciting...

Devon Days

Day 2

After a very lazy start we finally made the long journey from my friend Keith’s house to the west coast where the weather was glorious. HotAches were already in-situ on the route so I waisted no time in setting up my ropes and dropping in to join the party.

I made my way down the wall, placing gear, cleaning slots and re-familiarizing myself with the moves. On reaching the bottom of the wall I decided to start off climbing to see how high I could get. Unfortunately, I fell in the middle of the low bold crux which is possibly the worst thing that could have happened. I tried to push this mistake out of my mind, but fell off again, and again.

This was a big worry. Falling here is possibly the worst place to fall on the route and will almost certainly result in broken legs, of worse. I need to be confident that I will successfully climb through this section to have any chance of being able to focus on the momentous task that lies above. I managed to climb the lower section a few times but never felt really comfortable; I think more practice tomorrow is in order.

I gradually worked my way up the wall, section by section, finally making it to the top. My toes were on fire and my muscles were tired. It was now around 2pm so it seemed wise to take a break for lunch, giving my feet a well earned break. After eating, I wandered down to the beach to look at the scenery and the other climbs. This gave me a chance to gather my thoughts and feeling and try to sort them into a manageable form so I could begin to make progress towards my ultimate goal. Due to the sheer scale of the climb, I was finding it incredibly difficult to psyche myself for the eventual lead. Normally, the routes I do are less than 15m and it is fairly simple to remember the sequence and visualise myself climbing the entire route and successfully topping out. However with almost 50m of climbing, it’s hard to know where to begin and the thought of being on the lead, for the moment, is overwhelming. For a few minutes, a Kestrel hovered perfectly motionless about 20m away from us, level with the cliff-top. We sat watching this fantastic bird, transfixed by its beauty until it dived out of sight.

My feet felt a little better so I set off to the bottom to attempt to link as much as possible. By this point the wakes were crashing at the base and the spray had soaked the first 10m. I started from here and began my long journey upwards. Right from the start, my toes were on fire but I pushed on and tried to block out the pain. Slow and steady is the only way to go, keep moving up and you will get to the top. I didn’t feel as pumped as I had been expecting and I found I could actually remember a lot of the moves. Towards the top of the route, my legs began to cramp but finally I topped out into the fading evening light.

I was very happy with my performance and had managed to make some very big links, suddenly the prospect of being on the lead seemed a little more plausible. However, my feet felt like they were in pieces and I hoped that 1 night would be enough for them to recover.

We left the crag and put up our tent. It is the first time I have used my Trailhead 6 and it sure is comfortable. Later we met HotAches down on the Quay for a short interview and some other incidental shots. We finished shooting as the sun went down, headed off for some food and went to bed. Dreaming of pain free toes.

Devon Days

Day 1

The weather forecast was looking a little iffy but If I know anything, it’s that you can’t trust the forecast in England. We bit the bullet, forked out for a tank full of fuel and headed down south to the Shire. After a really quick journey myself and David Simmonite arrived at The Mill climbing wall to say hi to friends and grab a bite to eat. Earlier that day, the guys at the mill had experienced the most torrential rain they had ever seen, so heavy in fact that it had flooded the shop! Things weren’t looking great, but there is no point in letting things get you down, you just have to hope for the best and make the most of what you have.

Blue skies appeared as we drove westwards forcing smiles onto our faces but these quicky faded as the sky turned to black and the heavens opened. We parked up and listened to the rain fall on the car. After calling the HotAches crew, who had also driven down today, we decided to wait for them to arrive and then chance a visit to the cliff if the rain stopped.

HotAches arrived and the rain seemed to stop. We headed to the wall trying to avoid the stream that was where the track used to be. It was useless and after a short while I accepted that my feet were going to get wet and just got on with it. The rain came again as we arrived at the route, big fat droplets that soaked you to the skin but everyone’s spirits were lifted on seeing the wall in all its glory. Dave from HotAces seemed particularly impressed and excited by the wall. After showing the others where the line went, and planning out shooting locations we soggily walked back to the car, making plans for tomorrow, hoping for a dryer day.

A few weeks ago I felt a slight twinge in my left ring finger whilst training. At first I tried to ignore it but it gradually got worse until it was becoming a big worry. I took a few days off her and there but unsurprisingly the pain was still there whenever I returned to climbing. I knew what needed to be done, and that was to take a complete rest and treat the injury correctly until it had fully healed but the thought of doing almost nothing, feeling the endurance I have been working on slowly but surely slip away, was not a pleasant one.

In the past I have tried to climb through the pain and whilst this meant I was still climbing, the injury showed no signs of healing and my ability dropped significantly. What is better, to give up on something you love, eventually having to start again from square one, or to carry on regardless, knowing you will always be held back?

My time away at work proved useful for more than just paying my mortgage. Without the constant opportunity to climb or train, I found it easier to switch off my head and forget about the rock. 0n Friday the 20^th, I came off shift and after a few more days of rest, I decided it was time to test out my finger.

The drive to Devon was long and slow, not to mention incredibly expensive due to the ridiculous fuel price in England. It is getting to the point that I need to really justify my climbing trips. As nice as it is to go sport climbing in Yorkshire, at ~ £15 per trip in fuel, maybe I should stay in Manchester and train. Unfortunately, the weather was not looking good but after having come all this way I was determined to get on the route, even if only to clean the holds in the pouring rain. Emily didn’t fancy the rain and made the smart decision to stay in the car and read. I told her I was just going for a quick look and would be back soon, and set off down the track.

As I set up my ropes, the sky looked ominous so I put on my DIAD jacket just in case. It turned out to be a good call as after making it just over half way down the slab, the heavens opened. On my way down I had placed some gear but since I had no Jumars for ascending, even if I bailed now I would have to ab the whole slab again to retrieve my gear, before packing up and running for the car. Basically I was going to get wet whatever I did, so better to get wet for a reason.

I stayed on the route, making my way slowly downwards towards the rocks, swinging left and right, cleaning holds and trying out marginal gear placements. As the rock got wetter, moving around became more of a mission and before too long I was slipping and sliding all over the place. I called it a day and abbed the rest of the way to the rocks, which by now were almost covered by the sea. I unclipped my Gri-Gri and sprinted up the steps and along the coast path to the top of the cliff, determined to do what needed to be done as quick as possible so I could get back to the car.

Idiot, how could I be so stupid. In my haste to leave, I had left my Gri-Gri clipped to the bottom of the rope. I quickly ran through all the options in my head:

1. Use a spare belay device – forgot my spare
2. Pull up the Gri-Gri and ab from the top – can’t because the rope is clipped through gear on the slab
3. Pull the rope and hopefully the Gri-Gri will slip off – Get my rope back but no gear and Gri-Gri falls into the Sea and I cant afford too loose it
4. Leave all my kit and return tomorrow – I think it would be ok, just get very wet, but it meant I would need to come back tomorrow and I wasn’t psyched to get wet again.
5. Run to the bottom, get the Gri-Gri, run back to the top – I don’t like running

I take option E ang grudgingly collect the Gri-Gri before stripping my gear, packing up and heading back to the car rather wet and tired to find a worried looking Emily, who was just about to come and search for me after my “quick look “ was not so quick.

The next day dawned much brighter and so I headed back with the hope of actually getting to climb on the route. The rain held off and I had a good few hours working the various sections. The route is a complex affair. The whole slab is around 40m high and from a distance it looks completely smooth and featureless. It starts off up a 20m unclimbed section, the first 10m being unprotected climbing, with 6c moves on slightly dubious rock above sea washed boulders. You then get some good gear and the climbing eases to 6a/b for another 10m to join the original line. The original line was first climbed in the 90’s and traversed in off the right arête at about half height. It is incredibly sustained slab climbing on edges and sidepulls. The higher you get, the harder the climbing becomes and the more your forearms and calves burn. The route follows a tiny, parallel sided crack, too thin for your fingers and this crack provides the only gear. Originaly, there were about 15 pegs placed in the thin crack (placed at some point in the 90’s, before the first ascent) and this is how the route received its first and only ascent, in sport climbing style with pre placed quickdraws.

Before I go into more detail about the actual climbing, I feel I should give a brief summary of my history on the route, and how I have come to be at this point.

I first looked at the line a few years ago but was off-put by the rotting pegs. I initially planned to replace the pegs and climb the route in its original style but after speaking to various people and educating myself on the issues of in-situ gear I decided if I was to ever climb this wall, I would do it without the pegs. When I weighed them all up in my mind, the cons completely outweighed the pros for many reasons. I will go into these details at a later date or I will be waffling on for hours. I was left with a difficult choice; forget about the route and leave it as it is, or remove the rotting pegs and re-climb the route on traditional gear which would be incredibly difficult and dangerous, mainly because the crack is too thin and parallel to take anything other than pegs, only occasionally providing placement for a micro-wire or two.

And that brings us back to today, hanging of a rope which suddenly looks very thin, feeling very isolated and helpless as the waves crash 100ft below me. The last of the pegs have gone and the wall seems a lot fresher, like it has just received a new lease of life.

When you are on the route, you can’t see any holds unless you are right on top of them and so you need to try to remember 40m of intricate slab moves which as you may guess is not easy. The rock is very frictionless meaning you need to look for edges to stand on, but the rock is also quite brittle and crumbly so small edges have a habit of breaking off! Add to this very spaced and hard to place small gear, combined with the slightly dubious rock I mentioned before and you have the makings of a pretty tricky undertaking.

To climb this wall, in one push, on natural gear, from bottom to top will be an interesting journey. There is no doubt I will find it difficult, possibly more so than anything I have done before but I am looking forward to the challenge. The wall is one of the most impressive I have seen in the UK, truly inspirational and for me this is what climbing is about.

I can only apologise for the major delay between blog posts, I have been pretty slack on the writing front, and pretty busy on the climbing/training/working one. Believe it or not, I have sat down on numerous occasions and wrote a few thousand words, but at the last minute decided not to publish them for one reason or another.

I have mainly been training endurance for my future projects but I have managed to make it further than Manchester Climbing Centre on a few occasions. One of these found me way up north in bonny Scotland, at Dumbarton Rock with my sights set on the second ascent of Rhapsody. I won’t bore you with the details, but it’s safe to say that Rhapsody turned out not quite how I was expecting it to be, and so wasting no time I headed home to prepare for something new.

As usual the weather in England got the better of my plans and I got back on with my endurance work. Time passed and I felt myself making slow but steady progress. I don’t enjoy training in general, and endurance training is the worst. At least when you are working power, it is quick and relatively pain free. You try a problem, and you either do it, or fall off on a particular move, then you rest until you feel ready, and try again. With endurance, it’s all about suffering. You climb and climb and climb, your arms getting fatter and heavier and with every move making you feel sicker with the increasing pump, but you keep on climbing and climbing, feeling sicker and sicker, until you can climb no more. Then you rest, your heart pounding and forearms throbbing. Before you have had chance to recover fully, you force yourself to pull on again. The cycle repeats itself, only this time you feel sick right from the start...

On three separate occasions my plans to spend time on my new project failed to come to anything, thanks to Mr Rain. Living in England you grow to accept this is just the way it goes, and like endurance work, it is a necessary evil that will always be there. There is no point in moaning, you just have to get your head down and find a way to deal with it and in the end, these discomforts and inconveniences make the eventual success even sweeter.I head back to work in a few days time so it looks like my project is going to have to wait for another few weeks.

It is sometimes hard knowing this unclimbed beautiful wall is just waiting. I feel ready, I have all the necessary gear, I have everything I need except time. Things keep getting in the way but for now, there is nothing I can do about it so I am going to take my earlier advice, and quit moaning.

Speak to you all soon