I am sat at my computer looking out the window at the gently swaying trees and the grey sky just beyond. This situation feels very familiar, and that is because, apart from training, it is almost all I have done since my last post. I wake up, work at the computer, go training, work some more and go to bed. Yes, that is it, and that is why I have not blogged about anything for over a month, because I really have had nothing to write about.

There is method in the madness, and a light at the end of the tunnel. I go to Spain for 3 weeks on the 8^th of September, first to Majorca for a RedBull DWS event and then on to the Costa Blanca for some more DWS and some coaching work and this is what has kept me almost sane.

I have written about my dislike of stamina training before, and I still do not like it. However, it does make it seem a little better when you start to feel improvements, all the pain has been worth it. I am still a long way from the fabled reality of not getting pumped, which one of my friends told me he had reached a few years ago, but I am definitely a little fitter than I was and that is only a good thing.

I have done a little DWS before but not for any length of time, nor on anything difficult and whenever I have done it in the past, it has always been with a reserved trad climbing mentality and definitely not gung-ho, dyno and slap till you drop. Add to that the fact that I am not the best of swimmers, and have a deep fear of jelly-fish and seaweed and I am starting to question how successful this trip will be? I think I like the idea and image of DWS, hanging around on gorgeous orange rock, feeling free, getting a suntan etc. But I am not so sure in practice. Oh well, my tickets are booked, and I don’t want to be thought of as some kind of pussy. Time to man up, and throw myself in at the deep end, literally....

But before any of that, I will be back in Devon on my project. I have had a lot of time to gather my thoughts about it over the last month and in short, I have come to realise that I wildly underestimated it. Whilst it is not as physically difficult as some of my gritstone routes, mentally it is in another league. Think of it like this.

Imagine the longest sport route you have ever done.

Now imagine that it is pretty hard, not at your absolute limit of endurance, but fairly close - so there is a good chance you may fall off.

Now make the bolts pretty spaced so you will take a bit of a whipper.

And then take out a few bolts in the crux section so you will take a BIG whipper if you fall here.

Replace all the bolts with micro wires, sliders and other tiny gear, and pray to god that you have placed them in just the right spot or they will be as much use as a chocolate fireguard.

Then just for kicks, imagine that the first bolt (or micro wire) is at 12m, above a terrible bouldery landing, and you have to do the crux of the entire route to get there. This section alone is probably the most psychologically intensive section of climbing you have ever done.

I will be back in The Shire for 3 days in early September. Hopefully the weather will play ball and the Fairies will be watching.

Right then, time to go training.

:)

Where do I start...

I am sat in Exeter at Emily’s Dads house, drinking tea, having just eaten the most amazing bacon, sausage and egg sandwich. It is all rather surreal, and seems just like any normal day, but occasionally I get a shot of pain from my heels that remind me of the day’s earlier goings on.

My alarm woke Emily and I at 4.15 and we rolled out of our sleeping bags to force down a bowl of oats and raisins, drenched in sour soya milk. Yes, this really is living the dream. Daylight slowly appeared on the horizon as we finished packing the car and headed to the crag. Even at this early hour, the temperature was more than pleasant; I silently hoped that it would not get too much warmer.

Conditions near the top of the wall felt reasonable as I made my final practice attempts and it felt like today could be the day. I racked all my gear in the order I would place it and made my way to the base of the wall to practice the bold start one last time.

The holds felt very greasy and after practicing it a few times my head was in a mess and I started to feel sick when I imagined being on the lead. I tried to convince myself that there was a chance of walking away from a fall, but deep down I knew the truth, even If I didn’t want to accept it.

I wandered off along the beach to try to order my thoughts and instantly felt a little better. I decided to have one final practice then make my decision. All went well, the climbing felt hard, but I managed to switch off my rational brain and calmly keep moving up. As I lowered to the floor, I knew it was on.

I began to slowly prepare myself, probably trying to delay the inevitable, but suddenly realised the tide had crept in to almost half way and if I didn’t start soon, there was a chance Emily may get very wet feet! My earlier worries were replaced with a sudden urgency; I stopped being scared and got on with the job.

The climbing was terrifying, possibly the most harrowing experience of my life. I don’t really want to get drawn into grades for specific sections of the route, but in hindsight, I feel those 15 meters are amongst the hardest I have done, so make of that what you will.

The deadly part was over, but there still remained almost 30m of hard, sustained climbing to go and whilst safer than the start, it relies on tiny gear in soft rock and so the chance of monster falls is pretty high. I slowly made my way up the wall but the higher I got, the worse the conditions became until I was having a real struggle to stay attached to the wall.

I arrived at the beginning of the crux section of the upper wall. The next 15 moves is the most sustained section on the whole route. There is a little bit of gear, but it is difficult to place at the best of times and would be almost impossible in today’s conditions. I decided my best chance was to run it out to the next good hold, hoping that by not placing the gear, I may just be able to make it through. The gear that I hope will catch me if my gamble fails is a Wild Country Zero 3, the smallest cam in the world that is rated for passive protection. Fingers crossed.

I went for it and gave it everything I had. Each move felt desperate with my hands and feet feeling like they would slip at any minute. I arrived at the crux of the section and stretched out my left hand for a flat crimp. My pinky slipped off and fingers opened up, I fought with all my might to hold on. I re-formed the crimp and placed my foot on a high 1mm edge, locked off my left arm and found the distant finger-lock with my right. It hurt, but I didn’t care, as long as it was jammed I wouldn’t fall, which would give me precious more seconds on the wall. I made a strenuous blind foot sequence and moved my left hand to a reasonable gaston but I know I need it in my right hand. With two moves to go to the good hold, the end is in sight but at the same time seems an eternity away.

I need to swap hands and so move my left hand to a poor intermediate. It is a constant battle against all the things that are pulling me earthwards but I won’t give up. I throw my body inwards to generate positive momentum to counteract the negative that I know will happen as soon as I release my right hand. My body moves outwards as my fingers find the hold. I tighten up all my muscles and let out a grunt as my body stops for a split second...

The split second is over, my fingers grease off the hold and I am airborne, I scream.

The fall goes on and on. All I am aware of is I am still screaming, I stop... still falling... and scream some more. Finally the rope takes me and I am back in the world. I quickly check myself and I am not dead, the gear held. 50+ ft onto a Zero 3, not too shabby. Then the disappointment kicks in and I hang my head in self pity. Lower me...

From one extreme to another. Last trip it was raining, today it was roasting. It felt like the hottest day of the year and conditions on the wall were grim. I sorted out all of the gear placements and finalized my sequence but the individual moves felt as difficult as they ever had. Deciding to call off my attempt was a difficult decision, but when your life is on the line, you need to be 100% sure that what you are doing is the right thing.

Unfortunatley the forecast for tomorrow is much the same and so things are not looking great. I don’t know, English people just love to moan. Moan when its wet, moan when its hot, moan, moan, moan...

I think drastic measures may need to be used, unfortunately that means getting up really, really early. It’s a good job the route will be worth it.

It has been a great first day back on the route. I will have to be brief to conserve my battery power as am currently in my tent, using my phone as a modem to publish. I arrived at the crag at around 3pm and everything seemed perfect, the tide was out, it was dry, not too hot, not too cold, not too windy... I wasted no time in setting up and quickly abed in, chalking and cleaning holds as I passed, re-familiarizing myself with the holds and gear.

Once I arrived at the bottom, I spent a short time practicing the low dangerous crux until I was fairly happy with the sequence. I climbed through this and decided to press on up and see how far I could get. 45 minutes later, I topped out feeling tired but contented, having just linked the whole route for the first time.

If the weather holds for tomorrow, I think my chances are looking ok.

Adios...

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...