Trad – an alternative perspective

Climbers on the East Buttress of Clogwyn Du'r Arddu, North Wales

Given Jenn's recent thoughts on why trad is currently not her cup of tea in Does Trad Hold You Back?, I thought I would pen my alternative perspective.

I did an awful lot of bouldering in 2007. Looking at my UKC logbook I see figures of 144 boulder problems and only 20 trad routes. 2008 is not starting that auspiciously either. The figures are 7 and 10 respectively, but that is rather distorted by UKC's insistence that 5-6m problems at Slipstones above perfect grassy landings are for some reason routes (go figure!); 17 and 0 would be more accurate as the only place I have used a rope in anger this year has been Portland. In a soon to be published magnum opus, I find correlation between the amount of bouldering I have done and achieving trad grades that I had previously failed with. Elsewhere on this blog, I describe my “coming out” as a boulderer. But I suppose at heart, despite all these examples to the contrary, I regard myself first and foremost as a trad climber. Not only that, but one who has a strong affinity for the multi-pitch climbs of North Wales. This article is my attempt to explain why.

I think I still get a frisson standing at the bottom of pitch 1 of x that is different to either single pitch, or bouldering, however hard either of these are. The feelings are different, with bouldering and single-pitch; maybe the negative feelings are ones of potential failure, or worse, not even being able to get on to the thing. With mountain multi-pitch there is the ant-like complex. What lies between you and success is not a sequence of hard moves, but an awful lot of vertical space. Mountain stuff is serious; mountain Diffs are serious when you think about the consequences of failure and potential weather issues and route-finding and loose rock and (if you are anything like me – experienced hill-walker as I once was) getting lost on the way back down!

The level of intimidation – yes that is the word – intimidation, is much higher for me. I have been a lot calmer standing tied in under single pitch E-grades than under multi-pitch VDiffs. Maybe there is more of a sense of cutting loose (no not in that way), of embarking on a voyage rather than a quick sprint. Well so far, so negative. But as with many things in life, negatives have a positive element as well. Overcoming these fears and starting. Finding the first gear placement and it being good. Getting to the first stance and thinking, only five more to go. You are committed, the scenery is spectacular, the air is clean and you begin to remember that natural rhythm that only mountain climbing gives you. Maybe the moves are well within your ability, but that is like saying that because you can run 100m you can complete a marathon; it's really missing the point. Maybe the gear is not as rich as it might be, and maybe it's a long way down, but, for me anyway, I tend to experience a calmness and even a certainty in these situations that I don't get thrashing about on some 25m test-piece of 6m problem. Maybe there is just more time to get immersed in the experience, for it to take you over, for a Zen-like state to develop.

Jenn has spoken about our joint experiences on Adam Rib early in 2007. For reasons that she eloquently explains, I led all four pitches. It's an HS, but I seemed to find lots of creative ways to turn it into a VS. These mostly consisted of rather bizarre meanderings away from the jugs in search of elusive gear. At one point on the penultimate (and allegedly 4a) pitch, as I tried to get my right foot established on a high hold for the third time, with a somewhat speculative purple Camalot as my most recent piece 20 feet below, I remember thinking “if you don't latch this soon, then you are going to fall”. However the thought was rather less immediate than on a single pitch climb, maybe detached even. A positive way of taking this is that I didn't panic or let the problem get to me, I wasn't overwhelmed by the situation as maybe I would have been closer to terra firma on a single-pitcher. I got my foot up on the third try and moved up smoothly to a bit of a ledge.

It is moments like that that stand out in my mind with trad. Things that I remember when other details fade. A bit like recalling today what it felt like 20 years ago to effortlessly raise a slightly leg-side delivery up and over mid-on and one bounce into the picture window of the pavilion. I get more of those moments with mountain multi-pitch than any other form of climbing. Mountain trad sticks with you.

And then of course there is the main event – topping out 100m or 250m up and realising that you have done it. Which of course then leaves the problem of finding your way back down the other side to the campsite, but that's another story.

Bishop Redux

I think I said everything that needs to be said by way of background about Bishop in my Gravity article, which covered our first trip there in March/April 2007. I also touch on some details about our October 2007 trip in my post about eventually getting Green Wall Essential. Take a look at either of those articles if you want to know more about Bishop Bouldering or check out Wills Young's helpful blog.

This post is really just an opportunity to show some of my favourite photos from our second trip. More of these can be viewed out our respective UKC photo galleries; view Jenn's here and mine here; you will need to register to view them full-sized.

Jenn on Sunburst Seahorse (V2) at The Happys

This is an overhanging problem towards the Tom Peter's slab area of The Happy Boulders (page 94 of The Bishop Bouldering Guide - all page numbers will refer to this excellent publication, if only it had an index of problems at the back!). Jenn flashed this, I couldn't get it on the day.

Peter on a V2 on the back of The Tut Boulder at The Buttermilks

This montage is of me on a nice V2 at The Buttermilks (page 210) which has an interesting lay-back/heel-hook move at the start and then quickly eases. Note I am climbing in the shade, it was too hot to contemplate problems in the sun.

Jenn on Bourbon IV (allegedly V0) at The Dreamers

Bourbon IV is one of the classic problems at The Dreamers (page 47). It seems to have attracted every grade between V0- and V1 in various guidebooks. I think anything below V1 is a bit unkind. It's a really nice problem, which is deceptively simple. You have to wind about all over the place and it is one of those climbs where you maybe have too many options for hand and foot holds, but only certain specific ones that work. The top-out into the groove is a little interesting as your best hold is a shallow, dust-filled divot just over the crest. You need to pull on this to get to a juggier hold on the left-hand side of the groove.

Peter on The Space Suit (V3) at The Sads

The Space Suit is in the Kung Fu area of The Sad Boulders (page 146). It is probably a bit unfair of me to have a picture of me on this shown first, as I worked the problem and Jenn flashed it. Saying that, I virtually had it first time. You start at what is described as "an absurdly low start" at the back of the cave and haul your way up "the underbelly of the suspended boulder" onto the face and to the top. I had started to shred my right had slapping for a sharp hold on the arête, once on the face and was getting rather despondent about it until Jenn suggested taping-up my hand. It went first go with a protected hand.

I had never realised that my arms looked like that climbing until I saw this photo - it almost looks like I have some idea what I am doing.

Jenn also on The Space Suit (V3) at The Sads

The same problem, but from a different angle. Jenn is one move below where I was, when she brings her left hand up, the position will be identical. I tried taking my shadow out of the photo, but my PaintShop Pro skills weren't up to making it look natural. The landing wasn't great, hence the double mats.

Peter on an unnamed V2 at The Sads

This V2 is towards the back of The Sad Boulders canyon (problem 8 on page 164). For a change, this is something that I actually flashed. The key (as in the first part of the triptych) is establishing on the initial hand-holds and popping from there to a decent hold for the right hand (centre image). You can do a sit-start at V4, but as the guidebook says, this is "kinda stupid".

Peter on Heart Prow (V1) at Dale's Camp

Heart Prow is in the eponymous area of Dale's Camp (page 309). The final image is a nice photograph in my opinion. The light was quite notable that day. However there is a story behind the image. The previous day I had fallen off of the final jugs of Slight Inducement (V1), in another eponymous area of The Happys (page 132). I think this was mostly through fatigue and the shutting down of normal mental processes that accompanies this. Sadly, I managed to helicopter and miss the mat, falling heavily onto what was thankfully a fairly boulder-free part of the canyon floor. I had cuts and bruises all over, with various bits of my body tattooed with grains of Volcanic Tuff and my top shredded. This was my first really heavy fall bouldering and I was pretty shaken up.

Which brings us back to the above image. It was another V1, maybe not high-ball by Bishop standards, but high enough and with the ground sloping away at an awkward angle. I had a few misgivings going for the final hold and then topping out, but it also felt good being "back in the saddle". It is nice to have an image to capture this positive memory.

Bishop Bouldering – A Journey of Discovery

[This article and the accompanying photographs originally appeared in the July 2007 edition of Gravity Magazine]

My name is Peter. I write climbing articles. For the past three years I've been travelling around the world with some OK climbers, trying to capture the spiritof our sport and some of its fairly average moments. Between trips, I'm here in London, tied to a word processor, torturing myself with photos of all the amazing climbing out there.

In late March 2007 I got a call from Jenn. She was spending the Spring in Bishop, California, working her way through all the low- to mid-grade projects. On the ‘phone she said she was "really psyched", so I bought my ticket. One thing I've learned about Jenn, if she says she's "psyched", something is going to happen...

OK I can't keep up the accent, but Jenn and I had always been intrigued by the prospect of climbing around Bishop. Watching DVDs, from Josh and Brett Lowell's Dosage series (apologies to Big UP Productions for the intro.) to Paul Dusatko' Soul Cal, had whetted the appetite, if not quite convinced us that climbing in bandanas was that cool. Surely we would quickly follow in the footsteps of Sharma, Rands, Graham and Barnes and be flashing high V-grades within only a few days. Well there was only one way to find out. This is the story of our journey of discovery.

A faint moon rising above the Peabody Boulders

Bishop lies in the Owens Valley in the central part of Eastern California, close to the border with Nevada. The valley is something of a geological wonder; a graben, or rift valley, bounded on the east by the Sierra Nevada (including Mount Whitney, at 14,505 feet the highest point in the contiguous US) and on the west by the White Mountains. The mountain ranges are still moving slowly upwards and the valley floor slowly downwards. In the early 1900s the area was caught up in the water wars that were the inspiration for the Roman Polanski / Jack Nicholson film Chinatown. At that time, much of the water rights in the valley were bought up by the city of Los Angeles, sometimes by dubious means, and a giant aquifer runs from the area to LA. Today, partially enforced judicial orders mean that a trickle of water is again allowed to flow into the Owens River, tingeing some surrounding areas green, but much of the rest of the Valley remains a dustbowl. The local feeling about this is reflected in stickers such as "LA sucks! the Owens Valley dry", which appear in many places. Bishop itself has a population of around 3,300 and is at an elevation of 4,000 feet. For many people it is just a place to stop, rest and buy gas while on route US-395 going to or from the ski resort of Mammoth Mountain; something that is reflected in the number of motels and fast food stores. For others, it is one of the very best places in the US for all sorts of outdoor activities, not least climbing.

Cossaboom Bang Bang (V0) at The Catacombs

Twelve hours is a long time to be cooped up in a metal tube, it makes the East Coast transatlantic travel we more frequently do seem pretty trivial really. A night's sleep (or as much as our messed-up body clocks would allow) at a hotel near LAX; pick up the rental car the next morning; a five hour drive with lots of opportunities to say "hey, another Joshua tree"; and we arrive in the mule centre of the world and small-town America (to use the phrase from Wills Young and Mick Ryan's excellent Bishop Bouldering Guide – printed by Wolverine Publications and available at all good bookstores – well Wilson's Eastside Sports at least). The views of the Eastern Sierra on the way were pretty stupendous, rearing up from the edge of the Owens Valley as if some one had drawn the demarcation line between horizontal and vertical world with a very fine pencil. Lots of Alpine fun to be had up there, but we had our sights set somewhat lower.

The author with the Eastern Rim of the Happy Boulders and The White Mountains as a backdrop

As we were going to be in Bishop for two weeks, we had booked into a motel with self-catering, there are lots to choose from we went with the Best Western Creekside Inn; see any of the Bishop guides for alternatives and camping. Having checked in and unpacked on the evening of our arrival, we still had some daylight left and decided to see what all the fuss was about. A short drive out of town and onto some unpaved roads deposited us at the foot of the Happy Boulders canyon; a shallow ravine carved out of the thick layer of volcanic tuff that covers much of the area around Bishop and chock-a-block with boulders. Our first surprise was how hard it was to force oxygen into your lungs at 4,500 feet while toiling upwards through unhelpful sand and gravel on the approach path; no high-altitude mountaineers us! We managed to make it as far as the first boulder in our guide and, after collapsing for long enough to recover our breath, found a fun V1 to play on; the name – Paranormal in the West Country – conjuring images of Devon and Cornwall. There is in fact a distinct anglocentric feel to much of Bishop bouldering, and the credit / blame for must surely extend beyond the occasional itinerant ex-pat from Blackburn.

Jenn cruising Grant's Christmas Present (V1) at The Happys

Bishop volcanic tuff; now how to explain this? Well in the world of friction, Bishop volcanic tuff is to Grit as Niagara is to Kinder Downfall; but that doesn't really cover the other characteristics of the rock, from giant wind-blown huecos to razor-sharp finger pockets. It is rather like someone put the pumice stone from your bathroom into one of those mad scientist machines that causes objects to grow exponentially; taken the output and somehow twisted different parts of it through implausible angles to create the standard tuff boulder. It has also been described as climbing on coral. Whether the problem is easy or hard, the holds often seem to be quite a way from each other and there is a real gymnastic feel to the moves. And talking of things being quite a way from each other, the foot of the climb and the top-out seem to mostly fit into this category. Over half of the documented problems are what would be described as high-ball in most of the UK. It seems like a problem is not worth recording unless it is at least 6 metres high; and many of them are twice as high as that. This took rather a lot of mental adjustment and also the hiring of a second bouldering mat (thanks to the nice people at Wilson's Eastside Sports again – that's two name-checks so far, surely that qualifies for some free gear!). In fact my main recommendation for many Bishop problems, at whatever grade, is to have as many mats and spotters as you can manage.

Basin Mountain and Mount Tom rearing above the Soul Slinger Boulders

But I am getting ahead of myself. After getting a couple of problems before sun down, we returned, rather dusty, to our motel, retired to the local sushi bar and plotted the rest of our campaign. The plan was to be sensible about our climbing; take it easy; have rest days between bouldering days; go and check out Yosemite; see some Sequoia and Bristlecone Pines; wallow in the natural hot-springs; and get involved in the many other attractions of the area. Well the passes to Yosemite and Kings Canyon were buried below 30 foot of snow, which didn't help, but even if they hadn't been we probably wouldn't have taken them. In our 15 days in Bishop we did have two rest days, if hiking at 10,000 feet (to see the aforementioned Bristlecones) and in 100°F temperatures (in Death Valley) count, but were much too excited by the climbing to rest much on the other 13. This kids-in-a-sweetshop approach was perhaps a bit OTT and we would do it differently next time, but it led to a lot of fun; albeit at the expense of a commensurate amount of skin-loss.

The view down onto Heavenly Path (V1) from the Western Rim of the Happys

Over the next two weeks we were to return to our original venue of the Happys (and the adjacent Sads) a further five times; it is the sort of place that you want to go back to again and again. On three days, we visited the climbing Mecca that is The Buttermilks; with its giant boulders and bullet-hard quartz-monzonite ranging from rough to glassy in inverse proportion to the characteristics you want the next hand or foothold to exhibit. At first it is really difficult to take in the size of these outsized glacial moraines that have been dragged down from the Sierra by long-receded glaciers. We mostly got cricks in our necks trying to make out the distant final moves of death–problems like Evilution (V12); it's tough doing this when the top holds are obscured by cloud and circling condors.

Jenn flashing Monkey Hang Traverse (V3) at The Happys

The Happys and the Buttermilks are both world-famous bouldering areas and we did focus most of our energy on them. However, at other times, and especially during the weekend invasions (mostly from Portland – Oregon, not Dorset – to judge by the SUV number plates), we cast our net wider to encompass such Bishop esotercia as The Dreamers, The Catacombs and Pocketopia; all at above 7.000 feet on the Sherwin Plateau but geologically akin to the Happys. Here, rather than tripping over other people's mats and bumping into Lisa Rands as we had at the Buttermilks (I had to get the name-dropping in somewhere), we spent our days surrounded by just really tall boulders and really tall pine trees. Most days we were undisturbed by any other human beings. Finally, by way of variation (and also seeing as we had bothered to drag our harnesses, rope and quick-draws with us to the US), we even spent a day tackling some sports climbs in the Owens River Gorge.

Jenn on Pirate Booty (V3) at The Happys

So how did we get on? Well selecting from my extensive list of climbing-related excuses: no. 145. we were both pretty weak going into the fortnight after illnesses and a lack of training; no. 204. the rock was rather different and took a while to get the hang of; no. 481. as mentioned above, we never really let our bodies recover in between sessions; and no. 18. (an old, reliable favourite) it was way too hot, at around 80°F about 10-20°F higher than normal at that time of year. On this last point, the Bishop bouldering season normally lasts from October to April. While winter can be cold, this season sees some of the hardest ascents. The area is essentially on the edge of a desert and summer temperatures of 90-100°F mean that this is a time for mountaineering (or chilling out at the Black Sheep espresso bar behind Spellbinder Books) not bouldering.

The author warming up at The Catacombs

Despite these major challenges we managed to do a ton of stuff, get a lot stronger and even resurrect long-forgotten and deeply-buried climbing techniques like drop-knees and flagging. I have never been happy with pinchers, but you can't avoid them in Bishop and now I treat them the same as any other hold, progress I guess. Regarding specific problems, Jenn sent V3s like Rendevous with an Alien, Pirate Booty and Monkey Hang Traverse (flashed) at the Happys and Problem 2 at The Alcove section of The Dreamers; the V4 Impulse Control, again at the Happys (which she nearly flashed); and came close to V5s at both the Happys and the Buttermilks. As per normal, my own achievements were rather more modest, but you know some of those VB's were really, really hard. Climbs that stood out for me included Grant's Christmas Present (V1) at the Happys – if I could transport that to London as a training aid, I'd be very happy – Bourbon IV (surely harder than V0-) at The Dreamers, Doubletree (V0) at Pocketopia and Cossaboom Bang Bang (V0) at The Catacombs.

Jenn searching for lines at The Dreamers

However, perhaps one of my most abiding memories was only tangentially related to climbing. As I was spotting Jenn on Hero Roof (V0) at the Buttermilks, I heard a strange rattling sound behind me. The volume was increasing and seemed to have a certain urgency to it. Some vestigial memory of watching Westerns as a child returned to me and whispered "rattlesnake". I conveyed my suspicions to Jenn, now back on terra firma and we cast our eyes around to find a brown and black checked "rope" coiled round in a crack in the boulders behind us; a "rope" with eyes and who wasn't very happy with the two of us. We now know that Mojave Rattlesnakes hibernate, apparently in some numbers, behind the Iron Man Traverse area at The Buttermilks. They are normally asleep in March / April, but the unseasonably warm weather seemed to have woken this one up prematurely, either that or it was the smell of boulderers. It was quite a small snake and we weren't too freaked out until it decided to wriggle down to join us a bit later. That evening, back at the hotel, we read that the bite of a juvenile Mojave Rattlesnake is about as bad as rattlesnake bites get. We aren't entirely sure whether it would have been better or worse to have known this beforehand. Anyway, I guess the rattlesnake wasn't too impressed with our climbing skills and it slithered off under a more distant boulder, but not before stopping to pose for some photos.

Beyond snakes, I suppose what sticks most in my mind are two things. First the climbs I almost sent, top of this list is Green Wall Essential (V2) at the Buttermilks, described as an old-school technical test-piece. I had the final jugs in my grasp twice only to rather lose it both times and fall rather a long way. Second I remember the problems I looked at and thought I'd come back to. The perfect arête of The Church of the Lost and Found (V1) at The Catacombs, the crimpy high-ball of Jedi Mind Tricks (V4) at The Buttermilks and many others. I guess if you did everything you wanted on a trip, you would have no reason to return and I am delighted to have many reasons to want to return to Bishop. Now all I have to do is to wait for the temperature to drop low enough to be bearable – I'm thinking September 2007 maybe.

A Tale of Two E1s

[This article will hopefully appear on UKClimbing.com some time in March 2008]

An Introduction to A Tale of Two E1s

The author having just led Seams the Same

This article is a comparison of two E1 attempts by the author. The first was also my first attempt at an E1; it ended in failure. Just over a year later, my second E1 attempt was successful. In between, I had climbed nothing harder than VS, so I guess an obvious question to ask is "just what happened in the intervening period to make a difference?"

In common with Dickens' "masterpiece", this is a lengthy tale. Accordingly I have split it into some, hopefully more digestible, chapters as follows: -

1. 30th June 2006 - Fool’s Gold (E1 5c) - Bus Stop Quarry, Llanberis
2. 29th July 2007 - Seams the Same (E1 5b) - Serengeti Area of Dinorwig Quarry, Llanberis
3. Things that Made a Difference
4. Epilogue

I hope that you can take the time to join me on my journey and maybe find something that resonates in my experience and maybe even helps you in your own climbing.

This journey starts with: 30th June 2006 - Fool’s Gold (E1 5c) - Bus Stop Quarry, Llanberis

30th June 2006 - Fool’s Gold (E1 5c) - Bus Stop Quarry, Llanberis

Chapter 1 of A Tale of Two E1s

Morgan Woods leading Fool's Gold
© Kiera Lang

I have always liked slate. I both onsighted my first VS (Seamstress) and climbed my first HVS (Solstice) on it. The second climb also saw me taking my first leader fall and thankfully escaping pretty much unscathed. Something about the rock suits me. I think it is the combination of the typically just-short of vertical angle; the small, but positive, edges; the emphasis on foot-work; and the types of moves: high-steps and rock-overs and small dead-points rather than full-on dynos.

Whatever the reason, I decided that, despite never having onsighted HVS before, it was worth giving Fool's Gold a go. I did this at the end of a week’s climbing in North Wales. The time had been spent mostly doing easy mountain multi-pitch, maybe not the greatest preparation for technical 5c climbing! I probably also went for the E1 5c grade, rather than the more typical E1 5b, because of the likelihood of bomber gear; something Fool's Gold has something of a reputation for.

So we pitched up, I racked up and stood underneath the line. I wasn't certain that I should be there and had more butterflies in my stomach than could be explained by the adrenaline rush associated with excitement. I guess in many ways I failed the route right then, not having the right mental attitude. I was intimidated and, at least for me, trad doesn't work when I'm intimidated. Still I thought as I'm here, in my harness and roped up, I'd be a wimp not to give it a go; so up I went.

For those of you who don't know the route, it starts with very easy climbing on a number of ledges up to a platform under a triangular mini-roof. From here, you move up and right into a crack which leads to the top of the climb. The 5c crux is just after you move out from under the roof. You have small edges for your feet, then have to reach up for a finger-lock for your left hand, pull through to a gaston on the far side of the crack and then get you feet up high enough to become properly established. There is gear aplenty at the platform and as you move to just below the crux there is what has been described as the most bomb-proof DMM no. 5 placement in North Wales. It is a lock-like T-shaped notch which the wire drops into and would probably hold at least two elephants at a push.

I moved out from the roof and got the bomb-proof wire placed and clipped. The finger-lock felt ultra-positive on smooth, non-painful rock. The move up to the gaston felt smooth as well and I was through the crux. Here is where it all went wrong. In my mind, I thought that if I got the crux, it was all over. Now here I was with not the most positive of gastons and on foot-holds that suddenly seemed like micro-edges looking up at the crack which seemed to stretch on to meet the sky above. The guidebook says that the next section is solid 5b climbing and it looked like it. I had just done a single 5c sequence, but a series of 5b moves now seemed beyond me. Stupidly, I hadn't been prepared for anything other than a VS-type romp from this point and mentally I had lost it. The bubble burst and my only thought was "you are in over your head, what were you thinking of trying an E1?" Despondently I lowered back down.

With the benefit of hindsight, I got everything wrong that I could have got wrong. I jumped on an E1 when I had been climbing nothing harder than HS that week and had done no bouldering to get my body used to harder moves. I picked a climb with a higher than usual technical grade, when my strength leading (if I have one) is more keeping it together above gear than doing hard moves. I had not warmed up at all. The first part of the climb was so easy that I was essentially still cold when I approached the crux. I had no plan for the part of the route past the crux and naively assumed that it wouldn't be a problem. When things started to go wrong, I didn't think about trying to calm down and reassess the situation, I just panicked.

At the time of course, I didn't take away these learnings, I just thought that E1 was clearly way beyond my meagre abilities and I had no business being on one.

It was a long time before I tried another climb of this standard.

Continued in: 29th July 2007 - Seams the Same (E1 5b) - Serengeti Area of Dinorwig Quarry, Llanberis

29th July 2007 - Seams the Same (E1 5b) - Serengeti Area of Dinorwig Quarry, Llanberis

Chapter 2 of A Tale of Two E1s

A climber on Seamstress - Seams the Same is the second crack to the right of this
© Sarah Clough

Standing at the bottom of Seams the Same some of the thoughts and feelings that I have just recounted were buzzing round my head. But crucially there were some differences. I can't claim that I was confident about the climb, but I wasn't intimidated. My thoughts were more, "let's give this a go and see what happens" rather than "oh my God, why am I trying this?". Seams the Same is an easier technical climb. It used to be an E2, but has eased with traffic; however it is still described as being somewhat bold. I think it helped that I had climbed Seamstress - the VS I mentioned in Chapter 1 - on the same slab and a few feet to the left. Something felt familiar and I had already made it to the top of the buttress.

I guess I had a bit more of a mature attitude to preparing for the climb as well. I did some stretching; I bouldered up adjacent to the climb and then traversed left to Seamstress and down-climbed it. I stretched some more and cleaned and squeaked my shoes. The climbing on Seams the Same is 5a/5b from the start and stays that way all the way up. I started with perhaps no great expectations of finishing, but with a much more positive attitude than a year before. The moves are a bit like on Seamstress: lay-back a bit on horizontal ledges in order to get your feet up nearer to your hands, rock over and stand up to get the next crimp, or (if you are lucky) larger ledge. The hand- and foot-holds are much smaller, and perhaps a bit further apart, but the moves are beautifully in balance, much more so than on its sister VS.

I got in my first wire, felt secure enough to look up and contemplate the rest of the climb. It seemed like more of the same (see what I did there?); so if I could manage this far, then why not the next section as well? I think this attitude helped me. Before, I had been so put off by the second half of Fool's Gold that I had gone to pieces. Here I didn't worry about the rest of the climb, just the next section and placing some more gear. I had a brief shake and proceeded to do just this. I passed an in-situ jammed cam and clipped it for the hell of it. Just past this I had my first pause for thought. There is a slight bulge at this point (about two-thirds height) before the more vertical lower slab transitions to the gentler upper slab. I backed up the cam with a DMM Peanut that had been a Christmas present and convinced myself that it was a good bit of gear (denial can be positive as well as negative I guess).

I dipped my fingertips in my chalk bag, tried not to think about the gear and committed to the move. It felt smooth and easy and well-oiled, a by-product of all the other 5b moves below and I was now on the final slab.

The next few moves were probably easier with the more amenable angle; maybe one or two at 5b, but mostly 5a. However I had passed all the possible gear placements and had a third of the climbing left (maybe 9m). This was a time for maintaining the same measured fluidity that had got me this far. A time for thinking nice thoughts about climbing VS 5a slabs at Craig y Castell. I guess it was also a time to rely on the confidence I had acquired from the steeper section of the route. I kept on deliberately; not too quickly, making sure my foot-placements were secure and my weight was in the right place; but equally not really pausing, just flowing slowly and smoothly upwards.

I guess the point at which I nearly blew it was just short of the top with the final jugs about 3m above me. Here for the first time an unbidden thought popped into my head "you know, you are going to do this!" Such thoughts can prove fatal I guess, maybe literally so. For a very different reason, the bubble had nearly burst as it had earlier on Fool's Gold. Not without some effort, I managed to bury the thought and concentrate on the next move. Where was I going to step up to? Where is my next hand hold? And then focus on the next move and then... Oh I seem to have my hand on the belay ledge! A quick mantle and a quick expletive later I'm at the top and more pleased than you can imagine. The grin didn't subside for several days.

Interestingly my happiness was not just getting the Extreme tick, nor was it "slaying the beast" of Fool's Gold (with immense apologies to Neil Gresham and a marginally harder Welsh route). Yes both of those were things to be pleased about, but the climb had just been a really good experience. Despite a couple of pauses to think about what to do next and despite my potentially premature feeling of completion, the overall feel had been of being "in the zone" all the way. It had been easy, it had felt natural, it had felt that I was meant to be there and meant to be doing this climb. Feelings that were a million miles away from my experience a year earlier.

Continued in: Things that Made a Difference

Things that Made a Difference

Chapter 3 of A Tale of Two E1s

The author training for E1 in Bishop California

So again with the benefit of hindsight what had been different? Well some of it is mentioned explicitly above. I had warmed up and done a bit of bouldering on the same rock I was going to climb. Although I wasn’t psyched about doing the climb, I thought that it was possible and had certainly not written off my chances before I had set rubber to rock. I had picked a route that played more to my strengths, a technical grade that I was comfortable with rather than harder moves with better protection. I had thought about the whole climb and not just focussed on a crux; I guess it helped that there isn’t that distinct of a crux section, just sustained climbing at around the same grade. This sustained standard meant that the first few moves got me engaged and thinking about the climbing rather than worrying about a tricky section to come. I didn’t get overwhelmed by the whole route; instead I just tried to hit mini-goals: stick this next move, get up to that jug 3m above and so on. Crucially, I managed to make myself focus on the climbing again when thoughts of success began to prematurely enter my head.

As for the rest of what had happened in the intervening 13 months, I had put in some mileage at a lower grade. I did so many Hard Severes that I began to believe that I owned the grade and there was no HS in the UK that I couldn’t climb. While you might think that being solid at HS isn’t much help for E1s I think it is. It is good to feel that you have an absolute floor to your climbing, if I can climb any HS, surely I can climb at least some climbs that suit my style and are harder than that. I had also done quite a lot of VSs and, while maybe not solid at this grade, this also helped. Who knows, maybe if I hadn’t kept my head together on the fourth pitch of Adam Rib (HS 4b) then I wouldn’t have done the same on Seams the Same.

But I have left out what is probably the most important factor. In my opinion what really got me to be able to climb E1 was bouldering. I had done tons of this between the two attempts. Most pertinently, I had spent two weeks in Bishop, California. Here, although I didn’t set the world alight grade-wise, I got a lot stronger and the highball nature of many of the problems meant both that I developed route-type endurance and a head for being high up.

This was consolidated by more bouldering in North Wales and the Peak. The day before Seams the Same was spent at The Sheep Pen high on the side of Ogwen valley. Here I climbed problems from V0 to V3 (and sadly fell off V4s). When you have bouldered as much as I had, UK 5b moves begin to feel pretty easy, even if there are a lot of them - they are only V0+ right? Bouldering had got me used to regularly sticking UK 6a moves and I guess that is a good place to be if failing to stick a UK 5b one would result in you decking.

So I will end this rather lengthy saga with a recommendation from a old trad climber who has a liking for easy mountain routes. If you want to lead harder, buy a bouldering mat and a beanie!

Continued in: Epilogue

Epilogue

Chapter 4 of A Tale of Two E1s

Having a reputation for doing things out of order in my climbing life (I climbed HVS before I climbed VS for example), climbing Seams the Same meant that I had now onsighted E1 before I had onsighted HVS and before I had climbed F5+ clean. I guess the same things that helped me to get up Seams the Same led me to onsight HVS, F5+, F6a and F6a+ shortly afterwards.

However, E1 felt pretty easy and accordingly I haven’t tried another one since. I have however failed one E2 5c (Holy, Holy, Holy), have a list of others to try (including Psychotherapy, Last Tango in Paris and Pull my Daisy – what’s that? there are rock types other than slate? surely not!) and am now seriously contemplating an E3 6a route (Goose Creature). I guess the cycle is starting again and I hope that I can remember the things that got me this far. On the bright side, I’ve now also sent V5, so surely UK 5c/6a can’t be that hard can it?