Now Usine me, now you don’t!

Myself and Andy Turner had planned on meeting some friends of ours at a crag called Usine, just outside of Grenoble. I didn’t feel especially strong or ambitious, and could have been quite happy belaying and talking nonsense as I usually do.

After a couple of warm up routes, we then decided to have a bash at SAT M8+. Andy set about the route first, putting in the necessary quick draws and pulling through move after move. I watched to see that for M8+, this looked kinda hard. Its steep and at the top look a bit airy. The chains were located near the top of the cave, on the outside edge.

After a couple of grunts the chain was clipped and I lowered the big man down.

‘Pumped?’ I asked already knowing the answer.

‘Yep’ Andy said while catching his breathe.

I wasn’t exactly looking forward look this, I mean if Andy was pumped, then I was going to have to try hard! I set about getting my gear on and pulling the rope through for the lead. Tied in, and quick belay check and I set off on possibly the worse crime of climbing I have ever committed. Over gripping, over powering, feet work of and drunk and the head space of an Acrophobia (Acrophobia sufferers can experience a panic attack in a high place and become too agitated to get themselves down safely). Sure enough I got to a large move, with very little in the way of foots holds, and let out a feeble shout of ‘Take’. Pathetic. What the hell. M8+? Even if it was M10, what the hell was I doing? I do know that part of the problem is my head. I took a big fall years ago, and since then, I can’t seem to shake off this fear of exposure or climbing high above gear. It doesn’t happen all the time, but when it does, it really bothers me. I tried to fix it by putting up a E5 at Farletter, near loch Insh. As I have never climbed E2 or E3, I top ropped an E4. Climbed it without much trouble, and lead it soon after. I then worked my way through the rest of the E5’s that are there and then put up my own. The only problem with this was, that I knew I could climb it before I lead it. So my planned didn’t really work. I think the problems is the fear of the unknown. I guess lots of climber have this, but some deal with it better than others. I some can’t deal with it very well, and sometimes, it hasn’t even crossed my mind, and I climb with boldness.

Feeling a bit annoyed about the whole thing, I went and onsighted a D10. I felt a little better, the style of climbing suited me, but I could have quite happily went to a cafe and had a brew. Instead I went to a nearby McDonalds for a jobbie and a rethink.

I got back to the crag to see that Gordon McAurther was set about on a hard route, with a massive move right in the middle. It looked like amazing fun, but whether I could get to the big move, let alone the move its self, well that was a different issue.

‘Jesus Gordon, that looks a bit tasty!’

‘Yeah man, I can seem to get the axe in the small pocket.’ He said slightly frustrated.

‘Man I would love just to get to that move, just to see if I could get it.’

‘Have a go man, you could get there I think, your a tall dude’.

Kindly Gordon pulled down his rope and quickly point out the starting holds.

‘Shit man, I don’t know about it, it looks mental!’ I said truly believe in my own in-capabilities.

‘Dude the route could be made for you man!’ said Marc Beverly with the usually enthusiastic American tone. ‘Go’on up there man, and crush it!’ If only every crag in the world had a Marc Beverly shouting at you.  We would be doing a lot better I tell you!

And with that, I ran and put my boots on. If even get to the big move, I’ll be happy. If I made the move, well that would be awesome!

I tied in and put my tools in the starting holds. The first move was powerful and set the tone for the route. I had to throw every move with a lot of energy to make sure that I didn’t fall short of any of the holds. I couldn’t afford to waste time swinging around. Next move was a big throw into a stein pull which I got first time, surprisingly. The next to moves were ok and then I was there! Jesus, I thought, I’m at the big move already!

‘Yeah man! That’s it!’ I heard from below.

‘Can you see the hole?’ shouted Gordon.

‘Nope, I can see some red paint……’

‘Yeah, well just aim for that!’

I dropped my right arm and gave an all out throw. Bang! I got it! The lads on the ground gasped and started shouting to keep going. I settled myself down and looked for the helpful little spats of paint used to indicate where holes are. I seen the next move, not as big as the last but still a huge throw. Clank! The reassuring sound of a mental pick in a pocket. Most of the pocket are drilled, so when I could see that the pick was a inch or so in, I knew I could kept throwing move after move without the fear of pick ripping out. I didn’t have the fear of falling like on the M8+ but the fear of loosing the hardest onsight of my life.

Every move from then looked too far, too hard and with the pump in my arms creeping in, I didn’t really know if I had it in me. Only three moves to the chain. My mind wanted to relax, it started to wonder, as another move was needed above a bolt with full commitment. I shook my head to focus on the task in hand, although this move looked like a show stopper. I could hear the lads shouting at me to relax, and to breathe. It helped, because I could still fail. If I came off now, I would have lost the onsight and maybe the route for the day.

‘Crush man! You got this! You got this!’ Marc shouted at me. The lads must of had as much disbelieve as me that I even go this far.

I powered up and let out a scream as my pick closed in on the hold. I fell short by 20 cm.

‘Jesus!, this is massive!’ I shouted.

‘C’mon dude! crush it!!!’ There’s something about a ‘6,3’ American enthusiastically shouting at you. You just try harder!

Again I thew all out at the hold, at the last second I push hard with my feet and seen the pick fall just in the right place. I could see the chain, I thought about how much I was pumped. I relaxed. I settled myself. I can’t blow this now, I can’t throw it away by rushing. Two moves left. I made the first move without much trouble, but the hole wasn’t drilled. Instead it was a flatter hold with crumbling limestone in it. I couldn’t clipped the chain from there, I couldn’t cheat either, or waste my time trying. I also didn’t want to throw too hard as this tool could rip, and on the last move. I gingerly pull up, and locked with my left arm, I reached up, but it wasn’t enough. I pull the lock in harder, my fist pressed against my shoulder. As I reached up, I push my axe handle up, I was holding it with just two fingers. I felt the axe I wasn’t locking off on slip a little, and for a moment thought it might rip.  I held still and saw my other tool fall into the hold. Calm, stay calm, I said to myself. I got a full hand on the axe now, the chain was right next to me. But after the lock off, my hand felt stiff and clumsy. Calm, breathe. With the rope in my hand I pushed it into the karabiner.

I did it. I scream as loud as I could. The lads on the ground were shouting and whistling. I couldn’t believe it. As Andy lowered me to the ground, I held my head in my hands. Now sitting on the ground, trying to put together what I have just done.

Dry De Coke M12+ second ascent, onsighted.

Well that was a better effort than the M8, that’s for sure!

Massive thanks to Gordon for letting me have shot of the route.  Marc, Andy and the rest of the lads for the encouragement, and for Pierre Chauffour  for the picture!

Saas One, Saas Two, Saas Fee!

The view from our chalet

I get out of the car after an interesting drive through some snow and ice.  As I walk through the car park the fresh cold air finds itself nipping the back of my hands turning them cold quickly.  Memory’s came to my mind from previous years as I headed down to the bottom of the circular car park.  I feel anxious and nervous as I walk into the back entrance of the car park, as if I’m about to see where I’m going to have a illegal bare knuckle fight.  Like some weird Narnia version of Fight Club.  

I turn a corner to see my opponent.  Standing proud and looming high above me, I see my challenger, there’s history between us, and not all good.  I’m not the favorite to win this.  I wasn’t 5 years ago when I came here for the first time.  This is my third attempt and what do I want to get out of it?  Getting my ass kick is a given.  But going out swinging, that would be nice! 

 

Pete Holder getting ready for his climb at Saas Fee

I’ve never had much luck here at Saas Fee.  This year it’s the third event on the Ice Climbing World Cup circuit.  Previous years has seen me being spat off the wall at the first clip, or more embarrassingly before the first clip.  Why?  Well, I would normally say it was bad luck.  But I’m not too sure now.  Luck can help, but not me, not in this situation.  So what was it?  Well experience for a start, this isn’t a small comp in the back of the Highlands somewhere with a bunch of your mates.  This is the World Cup, one chance on the qualifying route.  Oh you fell off, too bad, go home.  And that’s it.  Not so bad if you have driven a couple of hours to compete.  But flying a couple of hours, then driving for a few more.  A couple of hundred pounds, not including accommodation, food, self loathing beer.  So it’s not cheap, and well, how hard are you going to try at something you know that has one outcome?  That’s the difference between someone that’s climbing at these comps, and someone that’s a competitor.  I’m a competitor.  I know that the likely hood of me sailing through qualifying and running around in the semi’s, or finals is more than slim.  But how much effort am I going to put into it? Everything.  

Andy Turner getting stuck into the start of the route.

Time to register.  Andy Turner, Andy Inglies, Harry Holmez, Katy Forrester, Matt Pritchard, and myself walk through Saas Fee trying to remember the way to the hotel.  Hotel found, we head to the basement, nothing but the best!  But to be fair, this is a very posh basement.  With table covered in white sheets, bottled water place in the center, and glasses to mark a seating position for each climber.  There’s a bar made up at one side of the room, and at the other side, there’s another table.  Instead of beer on it, its laptops and stressed looking people.  

Lucky number?

We get our numbers and take a seat.  I’m pointing people out to Andy Inglies, the strong people, the very strong people, and the mutants!  Soon enough, we’ve all been feed and watered/beered, and with a long day ahead of us, we leave in a convoy.  My numbers is low, low enough to suggest that I’ll be second out!  I’m pretty sure that this isn’t a good thing, with a rushed warm up and not sure what I should eat as I’ll climb about midday.  Yes I know lunch! haha, but do you really want to sit  down to a decent lunch knowing that you need to haul yourself a World Cup route?  No, you don’t.  A couple of Croissants and some fruit will do me.

 

Not the sort of place I felt like eating before a climb!

We get to isolation nice an early, so I can have a warm up before the route preview.  The warm up wall consists of a 30 degree wall with some odd wooden and rock holds screwed into it.  Be careful not to take a big fall however cause the old mattresses laying below don’t looked that thick!  I get slightly warm and then we are called for the preview.  All the climbers quickly get to there feet and grab a helmet, a little pushing and shoving to get down the stairs.  In any other situation you would let that person get in front of you and out your way.  But this isn’t Tesco’s, so you leave all queuing ethic’s back home and get yourself down there!  The closer you get to the wall, you can see that most people are holding them self’s back from running.  Soon enough you there, and your brain starts ticking.  For me it’s like my brain is talking photo’s on sport mode tick tick tick tick, side pull, stein pull, thin hold, jug, tick tick tick.  Then I slow everything down, and imagine the linking hold to hold with various ways of move’s and movements that could be possible.  Then I take a step back, and look at the route in its entirety.  

‘Route preview is over!’ and soon some UIAA official is literally walking with his arms out to push the climbers back.  We put up little resistant and understand that time is time.  

Walking back, some climbers are very chatty sharing information, and some have their thousand yard stare going on.  All the time you can see the cogs in their brain turning as they make up their plan of action.  Then the mood changes, as climbers names are read out and announced as its they’re turn.

Very soon, my name and number was called.  

‘You have 5 minutes, ok?’

‘Yeah, thanks.’

I make sure I have everything with me.  I’m met with a young Swiss girl who seemed to enjoy looking at the nervous and excited climbers faces, and soon I’m escorted down the stairs.  I’m walking fast, fast enough for the little Swiss girl to struggle keeping up.  Like a upset dad walking down the street with his daughter running to keep up.  I get to the waiting area, and start to put me boots on.  I knew the face of the other climber in the waiting area, but I forget his name.  He assures me that there isn’t a lot of time to top out this route, and that we wont see many topping out.  

‘Climb it like you know it.  That’s the key.’

‘That’s a good shout….’

I quickly finish doing up my boots as the little Swiss girl tell’s me that it’s time to go.  I step into the ring to see my opponent in his full fighting fit glory.  This time, this time I have to do better.  

 

Harry Holmez getting into then shortly out of the slippy stein pull.

Once tied in, I set my tools in the starting holds.  Making sure that they will be good enough to hold to the next hold without popping off, as this has happened to more people than you can imagine!  I set off with my game plan, while taking every hold with my tool with a huge amount of respect.  I try to feel the feed back through my ice axe from each hold, trying to find a ‘sweet spot’ and keep the angles tight and firm.  I get to and past the first clip, but I on not a brilliant hold.  I lock it down and stretch to a stein pull.  As I set my feet high, the tool slips.  I think it has slipped into a better position, but time is ticking and I’ve got to keep moving.  I lock off and stretch once more, and I’m miles away from the next hold, which is sitting at an off angle.  I need to get high, much higher.  I place my feet higher, and with the imagine of Markus Bendler (Swiss World Champion) in my head doing a huge move off a stein pull, I copy, and pull.  I up so high that I can use it as an under cling.  The next hold seem to be getting closer, and soon enough the pick of my tool bites into the little lip that it has to offer.  I quickly move my feet up, I start to relax and realize that I’ve only got a minute left!  I’ve got to run, but I get feel my hands.  At minus 10 wearing golf gloves, and squeezing the blood out of your hands leads to one thing.  Cold, numb hands.  Keep going, just keep moving!  I make a big dropped down move and start pulling the rope through for a clip. 

‘That’s time!’  is shouted up to me, and I let the rope take my weight.

I can see that I was about half way up the route.  Ok, I know that’s not amazing, but I was not wanting to win this.  Actually I lie, I want to win, of course I do.  But it’s not my time yet, when will it?  I don’t know, but I’m working on it.  But the main thing I wanted to do is to climb to a point that I can figure out the move, or get pumped out.  The bad news is, I got pumped out and my hands were frozen.  The good news is I didn’t fall, and I also knew how to climb the route.  So what does this mean?  Well, it mean’s that unlike other years of making early mistake that you can’t learn from, this time I can learn from my experience.  I know I need to get going a lot quicker, I need to relax a little more, and I need to see a doctor about my horrendous circulation!

Instead of being back to the drawing board with my stupid mistake, it’s onward and most defiantly up ward with my progress.  I’ve been back in Scotland for a couple of weeks now, and training for next year has started.  Plans and objectives are in place, I really want a semi finals next year.

 

Sorry about the lack of photo’s of myself.  I might be able to get a hold of some and put them on later.

Hope everyone is having fun being out and about, be safe and I’ll catch somewhere at some point.

Comps part 1 Romania

So over the next couple of days I thought I would try and write up about the competitions I’ve been doing.  

Starting with Romania, and what was it like going back to Romania?  Well it’s like going back to a new friend that you had just got along with the minute you met.  Romania for me is a funny, weird, random country with some of the nicest people I have ever met.  

After touching down in Bucharest, Andy Turner, Harry Holmes and myself jumped into our hire car and made the 2 hour drive north towards the mountains.  There was a lot less snow than last year as this competition was being held 3 months earlier.  We pulled up outside what we thought was our apartment, and was met by a man who literally filled the doorway.

‘Hi we’re looking for the Alpine Club apartments, is this it?’ Andy questioned.

‘No.  This is my house.  I’m Alex, welcome.’

We looked at each other and walked in without argument.  After a short discussion we were in the right place, but we call it by the wrong name.

 

The Youth Harry Homles knows his place on the sofa!

Alex was a huge dude, ex rock climber, an by the sounds of things was pretty handy in his day.  He talked about, well everything.  He had bolted many routes and crags nearby Busteni where we were.  He made lots of different things, from souvenirs to growing plants, building his house and the list, believe me, went on and on.  I thought this guy was super interesting and every meal that was fed to us was made by hand.  The wine was made with him and his mates, and calmed to have 500 liters of the stuff!  The vegetables and mushrooms were hand picked or grown, and was also made into jams.

 

Alex’s store room.  Everything here has been hand made or picked!

From my room I could see the comp structure lite up below the ski pistes, and tomorrow we would register and be on our way for a climb.

Sitting on a 10 year old mattress with questionable stains on it, I put all my competing gear out so I could see everything.  

Axes, check.  

Harness, check.  

Helmet, check.

Fruit boots, check.

Number? Shit.  Where’s my number?  I looked in the small rucksack I had, and it wasn’t there.  I went to ask a guy who looked at important as he was holding a radio.  

‘Hey man, I think I’ve lost my number’.

‘Really?  That’s bad.’

‘Yeah, I know, but I think it is in my car’. I didn’t know that for sure, I just hoped it was in there.

‘You can’t compete without your number.’

Yeah dude, I know!  But if someone could just take my keys and get it, then it would be ok.’

After a lot of ‘where’s your car?’ and ‘Your car is not there.’, someone did find the car and no the number wasn’t there.  Shit.

‘You have to pay 40 more euros, and I can give you another number.’

Another 40 euros left my pocket and I was number 102, not 100. 

Soon it was my time to go, and I started to get my gear on.  Nerves were kicking in hard and my head was buzzing like last pint of the night you shouldn’t of had and you know you’ll pay for it later.  I got escorted out to a small tent with a heater in it.  I could hear the cheers and whoops from the crowd as each climber tried there best to stay on the wall as long as they could.  With each foot slip or axe rip the crowd gasped and then cheered encouragement to the climber to go higher.

‘ok, Johnstone? you climb now’.

Without saying anything, I grabbed my things and headed out of the warm awkward comfort on the smaller tent and into the bracing cold night air.  I could feel the chill on the back of my neck as I walked towards a hanging rope.  As I tied in, I took a step back to look again at the route. I still remember it the same, and as I walked back towards the wall to set off, I played out the plan in my head.  

Climbing after the difficult start.

The first few moves were the only thing I worried about. They were thin unresponsive holds that I have made mistakes on before.  After the first difficultly I got a bit of a flow on.  Move, hold, feet. Move, hold, feet.  Soon I was just below the over hang, five or so moves more, and I was going to top this thing!  I settled myself for my next move, there was no pumped in my arms or nerves in my mind, and with that.  My tool ripped.  My progress to the ground halted by the rope.  My feet slowly touched down the icy floor, and before I thought about untying, I realize that its over.  The world of competing is harsh, and second attempts is not an option. I looked back on my climb, and although there’s nothing more annoying than coming off when your not suppose to.  I didn’t do too badly, the problem was that everyone did much better.  Semi finals?  Not a chance.  

Parking at the new Dry Tooling crag near Busteni.

The next day we met a guy called Lillian, ‘my friends call me Lily, like the flower.’

After a short discussion, Lily had printed off a map and a topo of a crag nearby that he want to take Andy, Harry, and myself to.  We were also join by Jennifer Olson and some wee mad french dude Pac.  

After a hour we were standing below the crag and it looked promising.  It was located 45 min north of Busteni in a deep gorge with steep walls on one side.  Shortly after arriving, we were met by Lily’s friend, who quickly grabbed some draws, ropes and a massive camera and set up towards the crag.  We didn’t have any gear with us, but Lily assured us that it was no problem and he would sort all that out.  Between them, they put draws in the bolts, they had tea and biscuits for everyone, and then announced that two of the route we were gearing up for climbing had not had any ascents!  

‘Please, you can climb it,  It’s our pleasure’.

The Crag.

Remember when I said that Romania was full of some of the nicest people…..

I could rattle on and on about Romania, the awesome people, the hundreds of stray dogs running around, the dodgy red wine, and the very dodgy clear spirit that should only be drank if your not planning anything for the next few days.

My time ended in the after party, which consisted, as usual of half naked Russians and other sweaty climbers throwing down possible the worst cringe worthy moves on the dance floor I have ever seen!  As I gabbed my last free beer on the night, I heard a little voice.

‘I remember you.’ Said the little lass be hide the bar.  Well I say bar, it was a small table with drinks on it.

‘Me? Really?’

‘Yeah, from last year.  You drink a lot!’

‘Oh, yeah.’ I said sheepishly as she was not wrong..  

And with that, being remembered from my drinking habit, instead of everyone else being remembered for their amazing climbing ability.  I left.

In the morning we were met by more generosity and made loose plans for our return before the winter and competition start again.

Stay tuned for part 2……..Saas Fee!

Andy Turner doing the first ascent of Tatai M9.

 

 

 

Glamour, or not so Glamour….

Where to start? I’m currently in France, Champagny, sitting with a small glass of red wine. I’ve just been climbing in the 4th Ice World Cup series. I just thought I would write a wee post as I’ve been a bit absent. What should I write about? The series? Places of qualifying? Well I will write about that later. What I thought I would write about is the glamorous and none glamorous side of competing, and where to start?

Well I’ll start with a guy I’ve named Space Face Snotter Heid, SFSH for short. I noticed SFSH within a hour of being in the air on a very cramped Easyjet flight. Just as I was admiring that the orange on my Phantom Guide boots matched the Easyjet interior. I seen it. At first I couldn’t look, almost like the same awkwardness that you have when a guy is having trouble fishing out his wee man at the urinals right next to you (sorry girls, not sure of a equivalent). After a few minutes I think that maybe I have not seen what I thought. I turned and look to see a man, with his finger, so far up his nose he must have been touching his brain. This disgusting activity was at full pace, and didn’t look like it was going to stop. His face was motionless as he was in a day dream. I tried not to gag as the imagine of a snotter tyrolean from finger to nostril entered my mind. This soon washed away when I realized that I only had 15 minutes left on the flight. I let out a loud sigh of discussed, only to see that it hadn’t broken the day dream of Space Face Snotter Heid.

‘Cabin crew, prepare for landing’

So after the airports, the snotters, the money, the loosely made plans, and anything else that will pop up regardless. Lets go climbing! Well I say climbing. In competitions climbing is and isn’t measured on height and length of day. This does depend on who you are, HeeYong Park (world champion) will have a climbing day. He will qualify, then cruise through semi finals, and with a shake of his slightly pumped arm, climb to the top of the final route. For me, a meer mortal. I can wait in isolation for up to 4 hours, after wondering when and how much to warm up. When you eat and drink, when to take a piss. No, I’m not a four year old, and no I don’t need my mummy. But this is what Isolation can reduce you to. Why, god knows. Maybe the feeling of uncertainty? And after all that, I climb. Well as far as I can. Is it enough to get into the semi finals? No. So what now? A lot of waiting around actually. Standing there watching some people run up a route you fought so hard on. Thinking about where you went wrong, how to do better, and not spit your dummy.

So why do I do it? I could save my money and take a nice long trip to Vietnam and do some deep water soloing, if I could swim. Well in everything thing we do, we do it with a balance. The good and the bad, or maybe some kind of a silver lining in a dark cloud.

This all sounds a bit dome and gloom otherwise, but if I told you that this morning I was sharping my ice axes bathed in sunshine. I was sitting on a balcony looking out to snow capped mountains in the French alps watching the clouds roll in and out. The night before, I was invited to someone’s parents house where I got a bed, fondue, wine, and home made moonshine! In the morning after breakfast and lunch, that someone (Stephanie Maureau, world champ) showed us the way to Champagny. I have never meet Stephanie properly before, and this is what she does for me. Then after getting to registration, I was meet by a room of people that I have meet before, maybe only a few times. But they will go out of their way to say hi.

Climbing in competitions isn’t about first ascents, it’s not about the epic photo with the back dropped of mountains. Its something a little more simpler than that. Its about pushing yourself, learning about different styles and cultures. Its about being pat of a very weird and funny family of competitors. Seeing new places, and ending up in random ones! Yes you can get that from a trip to the greater ranges or where ever, and in a way, its kind of the same.  You just end up doing what you prefer.  Competitions isn’t all about standing around in airports, and for people like myself, it isn’t about the fame.

There is a massive side of competing that look very none glamorous, and there is another side. A side that could be seen as glamour, but really, it’s more about a bunch of people from all around the world trying their best in a strange and sometimes surreal places, and with the photo’s of the superstars and smiling faces. You could easily missed the hard ships of what it takes to get there. Being on the road can be hard, spending money you don’t really have can be harder. Not to mention the training you’ve done to get there, when people are bagging the first winter route of the season and you feel bad because you didn’t put in a 4 hour training day in Newtyle. And with that, I think, this is what bring us weird funny people closer.

I’m off to Italy for next weekend, where I can go through all of this again. And you know what? I can’t wait. I promise to write up about the series soon. Especially Saas Fee!

In the mean time, enjoy what ever climbing your doing and be safe.

School Day.

It’s a strange sound.  You only hear it in a certain situation, like when you push snow off your window ledge and it hits the road. Except, when you watch the snow fall, there’s a little excitement there as you wait for it to hit the road.

I was clipped into the belay, having a laugh with Dougie Russell as his brother Adam was sorting out kit for the lead.  Then I heard it, although this time I wasn’t pushing snow off my window ledge.  The noise was much louder with a hit of menace.  I looked up and the sky was filled with snow.  I could see blocks the size of laptops in the snow cloud.

(SHIT! is an avalanche?  Shit. Thank god I’m clipped in.  Thank god the belay is bomber.  Are we going to get fill in?  I think there were climbers heading up the slope…..)

AVALANCHE!!!!!…………AVALANCHE!!!!!!

Blocks of snow hit us from all around, and it felt like someone had draped a duvet over us.  It might had only lasted 5 or so seconds, but it felt longer.  Once the snow had cleared, panic set in.

 

”I am a bad mutha fucka!!, I am a bad mutha fucka!!!”  Dougie’s alarm is going off, and as rude as the wakening was the song it self.  Adam turned up shortly after and we got our things together, pack our bags and set of the up hill battle to Stob Coire Nan Lochain.  Snow was falling at half height, but it was still dark.  Through our head touches you could see the tall mountains of Glen Coe around us.

 

We were the first to the crag and as the morning got lighter we could see that conditions were looking good.  However the avalanche risk was a category 3, considerable.  But we were taking the right precautions and made our way up.  

I could feel that day it was going to be a ‘School Day’, for whatever reason, things just didn’t go as smoothly as normal.  I went up the slope first to get to the ledge below the route.  There was no ledge.  There was how ever a shit load of snow and ice.  Great.  Hadn’t put my crampons on yet.

*Before ascending a snow slope, putting on your crampons before you leave will have you better prepared for changing conditions, snow and ice etc. 

Now on steep ground, this was going to be tricky.  Rolling down a snow slope backwards was not in my plan, although i’m sure Dougie and Adam would have had a laugh.  All I had to do was to get them out of my bag.  Shit.

*When packing your bag for a day of the mountain, organize your bag in order of what you need first.

After digging my crampons out of the middle of my bag, and somehow got them on while standing on my silly little ledge.  I felt a little more secure, although without my harness on, I’m not going to be that secure.

*Put your harness on before you crampons.

After questioning my stupidity, I set up a belay at the bottom of our route.  I think it was Chimney Route, which wasn’t our original plan, but it look in better condition.  Loads of ice!  Who brought the screws.

*Before you set off for your climb, think of the conditions, and take additional gear if needed.

Adam was keen anyway and started gearing up, as best as he could for a very icy lead without screws.  We had met Helen Rennard and Dave Almond making their way up to their route.  It was above us about 10 meters or so, and looked like something quite tasty!

Helen belaying Dave on their new route.

 

That’s when it hit us.  It wasn’t an avalanche, it was a cornice collapsing above us.  It must had been huge.  After everything settled I started shouting up to Helen and Dougie was shouting on Dave.  I looked down the slope and seen the end of a climbing rope, but there was nobody on it.  Getting my thought process together for an absail down to where I think they might be buried, I heard a little ‘hello’.  We looked up to see Helen and Dave popping there heads ups like little Meerkats.  

‘You’s alright?’ I shouted

‘Yeah! I wasn’t clipped in’ said Dave letting out a little nervous giggle.

‘Jesus, I think I’ve filled my pants man! as I readjusted my harness.

Turn out that Adam wasn’t clipped in either!

*Always clip in at the belay.

Smile all round as the adrenalin kicked in, and after a short while Adam set of on the route.  WHOOMF!  I looked up, the same thing.  Not as bad this time.  

‘What the hell is going on up there?’ I asked Dougie.

 

Soon Adam was making his way up the route, and as he did, I notice that the other climbers that were making there up to us had turned around.  The stayed at the bottom of the corrie floor looking at us as if there was a big Lion behind our backs, and we hadn’t noticed it.  Psyched was diminishing quickly.  Adam was having a little bother with the route, as all that beautiful ice wasn’t actually attached to the rock.  With every axe swing and foot placement broke off a heavy piece of ice, with one that hit me and Dougie, Dougie taken the brunt of it like a champ!

‘Fuck this.  I’m outta here dude’ I announced.

Dougie agreed.  Adam protested a little, but there wasn’t anything stopping me.

‘You guys can stay, but this doesn’t feels right today.  And god knows what is up there, if and when we get there, will we be crawling around with head torch’s on with unstable cornices around us?’

Dougie abing off.  You can see the climbers at the bottom of the corrie floor.

Adam set up an ab, and we left.  Adam and myself were sorting out the ropes, when I realized what the climbers of the corrie floor where looking at.  Now in the morning light, you could see big cornices all over the place, and also the debris that had rested from our encounter.

‘Look at the size of them! that looks like it about to go….’ as I said that, WHOOF!

Dougie shouted and I seen the snow crashing down again.  I was pretty sure we were far enough away not to get hit.  But I was taken any chance, and by the look of it neither Adam as we sprinted along the slope.

One of the cornices.  If you know the crag, you’ll know that that’s a sizable cornice, and not the smallest one there on the day.

On the corrie floor now and it felt good to be there. We had something to eat and drink, while a few climbers came up to us to ask us,

‘Where you the guys that got hit by all that snow?’

Not sure if this is how I want to be remembered, but heyho, it happened.  You live, you learn, and you don’t/try not to do something similar.  However, there isn’t much you can do to prevent something like that.  Its the mountain and everyone should have excepted the risk of being in the mountains before they have packed their bags.  They should also know when to pack the day in and call it when it’s time to leave.

Even after what some would say as an unsuccessful day, thumbs up all round!

Adam checks out the conditions and Dougie practice his Yoga.

Don’t underestimate a beautiful day.

Stay safe out there guys, and have fun.  My next little adventure should see me in Romania competing in the Ice Climbing World Cup. Wish me luck, cause I’m going to need it!!!

A Quick Day at The Works

 

Photo by Me on my camera

The van was packed.  Three lads, three ropes, 2 ipods, four pairs of tools, three pizza’s and a fuel tank of diesel!  It was Friday the 13th…..unlucky?  Maybe for some, but that didn’t put off the Scot’s for a wee England invasion!

Dougie and Adam Russell and I made our way south on Friday night to The Works.  Its just outside Ambelside in the Lakes.  Andy Tuner had and still is putting up up drytooling routes there that has attracted climbers from all around the UK to put their tools where their mouths are and give it what they have!  I’ve seen some impressive climbing there in my three visits, and have been very inspired.

The last time I was there, was about 6 weeks or so.  I seen Greg Boswell doing the first ascent of his new creation Powerdab M13.  It looked cool, a slight ‘S’ bend in the quick draws hanging from the roof, huge moves that would test your shoulders, and the all impending doom of a ground fall!  Hence where the name came from.  I guess its not unusual for us Newtylers to climb routes with a ground fall potential.  In Newtyle there are definitely places you don’t want a tool to rip, and there are places you don’t want to take a huge bite of rope for clipping.  So I guess it is only natural the Greg seen this area fitting for a route!

 

 

Photo by Adam Russell on his camera

I had a shot of the route once Greg had been on it.  I think I got to the first crux which is getting your tool into the stein pull, then I went bolt to bolt dogging just to see how hard this thing was……its hard.  Bolt to bolt it seems ok, but climbing it is a bit different.  After going bolt to bolt, I had another shot, but I didn’t get anywhere really.  Lower off, food, and home.

I kept on wondering if I could climb Poweredab.  I mean its M13, at the start of the year I had to relearn Fast and the Furious M10 at Newtyle.  M13?  I don’t know, but something told me that I could.  

 

Photo by Me on my camera

So after arriving late on the Friday, and had some sleep in the back of the van.  We woke to some crazy wind and rain!  It shouldn’t matter too much as most of the climbing and The Works is steep over hanging.

A wee warm up was in order, so I jumped on to First Blood M9/M9+.  Its kinda long and steep, so I thought, if I climb this slow and get pumped, It should warm me up nicely!

 

Photo by Dougie Russell on my camera

Dougie got First Blood in and his flash of the route and Adam had climbed it before, but warmed up on it also.  Dougie then ripped off a massive block on Bloodline M9+/M10 (probably M11 with the block missing!).  And with that slight air of destruction, we went to the upper crag for a shot at Powerdab.

The weather had changed from bad to shite, and thought nothing better to get involved with some ground fall potential.  I tied in, and went.  The first plan of going bolt to bolt to remember the moves went right out of the window.  SEND SEND SEND! And with that burst of enthusiasm and got pumped and shout take four moves from the top!  Hold on……four moves?   That’s not bad!  I was hoping to get the route in to links today.  Once my arms had stop screaming, I tied in again.

 

Photo by Adam on his camera

I felt better this time.  I moved quicker, but the light was falling faster.  Dougie had a head torch shinning where the holds where so I could see.  I made the stein pull first time, which Greg did say was a good indicator that you might have the route.  I powered through the second crux and hung below the last big move.  I was pumped, not as bad as last time.  I waited, shaking out, being patient, can’t afford a mistake now.  One more huge move and I can get a toe hook rest.  As I pulled round to make the move a gust of wind hit me hard, and the rain lashed my face.  I’m going to have to work hard for this.  Come on……

GO!

Missed, miles away in fact.

Again GO!, GO! missed again!

Fighting the urge to let go, fighting the urge not to shout the feeble word ‘take’.

Come on!!! Got it! Toe hook.  I can’t hang here for long, there’s a better rest, two moves later, a nice heel-toe rest, I knew it.  This route was in the bag.  My arms recovered quickly, and with one more lock off, my tool was in the last hole, and I was clipping the lower off.

I don’t care about saying it.  I’m chuffed to bits with that!  From learning a M10 at the start of the year, to climbing M13 six months later, that’s good by my books!

What now?  Well it’s Christmas, and for me that means a little break to Spain.  Not climbing, well a little, but more in the way of relaxing eating, eating and eating!  When I get back there better be some snow on the hills!

Hope Santa is good to everyone, and I might see you out and about.

Never Say Never!

One Year Ago…..or so……

My nerves are shot!

I’ve been sitting in the corner of an office inside Glenmore Lodge.  

I can hear applause, gasps, the scream of someone fighting.

I try to block it out, but I can’t.  

The office is clean and bare, the only thing in here with me is Neil Silver writing up result of the competition that is still going on.

tap, tap, tap…..scream……gasp…….a shout, applause………

Is it over?  Did they finish the route?

I went into the climbing area to see lots of peoples faces, some smiling, some not so much.  A sweaty climber had just untied and sat down out of the way.  He looked nackered, as if he’d just crawled out of a bare knuckle fight.

Rewind One Year and Four Days…..or so……

Mark Chadwick (an lodge instructor)  and myself are having discussions on how to set routes for the STS (Scottish Tooling Series).  Mark wants to work on the granite towers outside, and I have the ‘pleasure’ of setting the final routes.

Route setting, is it hard?  If you ask me now, I would say its alright, a bit tricky.  If you’d asked me halfway through setting the routes, I wouldn’t say anything.  Instead I would just hand you a fist full of hair that I had just been puling out!

Watching/listening to the dudes and dudettes climbing the final was horrible.  Some would climb it really bad, as in not the way I set it.  Others would sketch around on thin holds, making it look like they were about to fall off at any moment, and some would cruise it making the route look easy.  I couldn’t take it, I was a wreck!  

Once the final was over and I somehow looked 20 years older, I said there and then.  ‘No way!, never!, don’t bother asking, I’m not doing that again!’

Rewind a few weeks ago

Ah, email.  Oh it’s Bri.

Open email……………..

(short version) Would you like to set routes for the Glenmore comp this year?

hahaha, no.  Sorry, you couldn’t pay me enough money. Thanks anyway.

Rewind Four Days Ago

Email:

Kev Shields was going to set the routes for Glenmore, but he’s hurt himself…….Any chance you could step in?  We’ll pay you!

AAAAAAAggggggggghhhh!!!! KEEEEEEEVV!!!  If you weren’t so god dam accident pron and were about to kill yourself anyway, I would be doing it!!!!

I had no choice.  I had to suck it up, set some routes and book an appointment with a hairdresser for later…..

Rewind to Saturday Night

After being at the wall till 00:30 on the night before, I was back in doing the final touches.  Well I say final touches, it mostly consisted of flash pump climbing, spinning holds, one near deck out, and a lot of doubt if I had set the route way to hard.  I want the climb hard, maybe have someone get to the end.  It’s always good having someone or yourself finish a final route, but I like it when no one does, its a proper test!  and this route was going to test the best of us.

Did I watch? Did I hell, instead I waited in isolation with the guys.  Instead of listening to the crowd, I listened to Fiona Murray sing the Strictly Come Dancing theme song.  Instead of pulling more hair out, I sharpened about 7 pairs of very blunt tools, and a couple of pairs of crampons!  

It was easier than the last time.  I think the route was close to being really good, not quite there yet.  Some people were off at the start and other half way and some nearly topped out.  There was no real way of guessing which climber was going to end up.

Sorry for the lack of photo’s this time, but that was the last thing on my mind!

Anyone that reads this should understand that Gareth and Bri worked super hard organizing these comps (its no easy task, ask Pete Hill and Neil Silver).  Karen also worked her wee arse off, dawning the head touch to gets the route in!  If it was easy, well it would be crap.  Setting routes is ok, no so bad.  Setting good routes is hard.  Sometimes it doesn’t go right and sometimes it does.  But the thing to bare in mind is that, the route setters are trying their best to keep good climbers challenged.

What now that winter has gone?  Back on the tooling venues for some cranking.

 

The Inconsistent Truth

So this weekend I flew over to Amsterdam for a competition that was being held not far from Rotterdam.

 

 

So once I picked up my passport that I left before going to work, and I found the airport parking after a 20min goose chase around Paisley, I finally got to the lovely people a KLM.

Me: Steve Johnstone to Rotterdam please (as was recommended by Dennis Van Hoek )

KLM: Johnstone? Rotterdam?

Me: Eh, yeah…

KLM: We don’t fly to Rotterdam sir.

I don’t know what I was bemused about the most.  That I might be flying to a different city, I might not be flying at all, or that she thinks that I am a person with a social status that she considered calling me Sir!

Me: Ah ok….(confused look)

KLM: Do you know that your booked onto our flight to Amsterdam?

Me: I do now.  Well at least I’m going to the right country………am I?

KLM: Yes you are Sir.  Please give me your bag.

I complied, and was soon on my way……

Dennis Van Hoek thought that this was highly amusing and thought that it was a mistake to make like booking Glasgow instead of London!  he might have a point, but nonetheless I was on my way.

After a short flight, and a train journey to Rotterdam, Dennis came and picked me up and we were off to the place of the competition.  He said that that night we were going to be sleeping in the climbing wall, I thought this was perfect!  After meeting Marianne Van Der Steen (yes that is a cool name), and had a wee catch up, a couple of beers, I was soon lay out of the sofa for the night.

Competition Day

I woke up.  Not because I had an alarm set, not because I had a bad sleep, and not because I needed a piss.  No I woke up because of Harry.  Harry, I hate you.

 

We soon became friends as he’s kinda cool!

People started filling the climbing wall cafe, and after the usual safety, rules, and routes briefing, nearly 100 hundred climbers set to work out the tricking problems that lay ahead.

Dennis and myself made some good work on the problems, taking turn about for who goes first and finding the secret holds to get us to the top.  After completing all of the hardest routes we were sure that we were in the final and decided to have some lunch and kick back.

At four o’clock, the ‘last route’ shout was giving and the climbers gave their last good effort to grab some extra points to put them higher up the qualifying list.

As Dennis and I thought we and four other were in the final.  The usual things happened.  You get a little nervous, then you put on a brave face, you then have a look at the final route and a quick discussion about rules etc.  You then go into isolation, you contemplate a warm, and when, you try a drink water, although it seems to run right through you, and you end up having about 346 pisses in a hour! And then, you get the call.  Its your turn, time to pull out the stops, push yourself to your limit, time to focus.  You walk through the door, you hear your name being announced and the crowd applaud, you try and look up but the lights are too bright.  You try a remember how to tie in because your mind is racing and there’s lots to think about!  You glance up that the route and hopefully you remember most it, and have already played through your head the way your going to climb it.  Then you a deep breath, and set off.

Now, what happens next?  That’s anyone’s guess.  This is a competition, things happen that shouldn’t and things don’t happen that should.  I should of climbed to the top.  I didn’t.  Nop, I ripped of the fourth hold.  Yep 1,2,3,4.  

Inconsistency is a bitch.  I for me, It catches me out when I least expect it.  I felt strong, I felt focused, and I felt like I had the route planned out in more than one way.  But It wasn’t for me.  Gutted isn’t the word.  Really f***ing pissed off is close.  Why does this happen?  

This year has been great.  I’ve never felt stronger, I’ve climbed harder than I thought I would, but my inconsistent friend keeps me on my toe’s.  One day I’m wont get up my usual warm up route, the next I’ve flash the hardest route I’ve ever climbed!  Or I’ll win a hand full of comps, and the next day I wont get up ten feet.

The solution?  First order two beers for yourself.

You sit there and feel sorry for yourself until the second bottle is empty.  Then you realize that no one gets anywhere without failure.  Is this cheesy? not really, do you feel instantly better? do you hell, but looking like the sad loser that you are isn’t going to help either.  Buck up Steve, sort your shit out and lets start thinking about the Ice Climbing World Cups.  I’m in the Great Britain Ice Climbing team now, and so better start acting like it and put lots of positive mental attitude into what we doing, otherwise you’ve lost before you’ve tied in! 

My weekend was great, Dennis and Marianne looked after me and took me for and quick blast around Amsterdam.  Will I be back next year, your dam right I will!

Back on the training train tomorrow before Christmas makes me fat!

 

Choo Choo

All aboard the Blogging train!!

Well, this is it folks.  Yes a blog.  What are you going to read about?  God knows! but i hope you enjoy the funny, daft, good times that I’m going to share with you.  I know most climbing blog’s are about conditions, new routes and mental ethics.  Well I’m going to try and stay clear of that as much as possible and just share the good times that keep me climbing.

For people that don’t know, I’m Steve, aka Stevie, aka The Youth, and I’ve been climbing for about ten years on and off (I’m 28 by the way).  But recently my climbing has seemed to be going places I hadn’t thought about.

About four/five years ago I won a competition in Scotland called the Scottish Tooling Series (STS), and with that, I somehow ended up climbing in one of the world cup events in Switzerland.  I say climbing, I went up 20ft and fell off!

I’ve since won the STS fours years in a row, I went back to Saas Fee in Switzterland, and ended up falling off at the same height! It wasn’t the come back I was thinking of.  I went off to Romania, I’m pretty stubborn by the way, and tried again.

I somehow picked up a drunken injury in Saas Fee, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me!  600mg of Ibuprofen later and I was only in a lot of pain!  I did do better, and I thought to myself.  Could I do a lot better?  How hard could I climb?  How much could I train before I wanted to ride my motorbike into a tree?  Well, I’m going to find out.  Hopefully someone stops me hitting the tree…….