Raven's gully

I can't help being a bit of a believer in karma when it comes to the weather. Put the time in, slog it out even on the grim days, show the crag you're doing it for the love of it, and sooner enough you get rewarded with something special.

 

Glencoe

It might seem a just case of buying more lottery tickets, but the other way round seems to apply too - go out too fast, too keen, aim for a big tick straightaway, and the weather has a funny habit of shutting you down, knocking you back. So I'm blaming this grit season's weather (which, snowballing bonus aside, has been perhaps the worst in recent memory) on Caff's arrival in Hathersage last september, and subsequent lack of respect for the crags. Now he's tied up back at work, I'm expecting whatever the winter equivalent of an indian summer is. Stand by folks! The other possibility is of course that the crags are in a more permanent huff, caused by folk's general retreat to The Climbing Works given so much as a cloud on the horizon. I'll take dodgy weekend weather over crowds anyday, but if it stays like this y'all are going to have to show the rock a little more love!

Buachaille Etive Mor at first light

And so it is with the winter nick, which is what any sensible climber in Britain is concentrating on right now. After my shaky start to the season, I took a bit of a gamble and headed north despite not knowing much about the weather, or even how I was going to get back south again. It seems the gods love a trier, and we woke in Ben's van to a snow-capped Buachaille gently glowing in a perfect clear dawn. Its hard to drive past such a sight, so we headed up to Raven's gully, buoyed by a couple of other guys with the same idea. By the time we got to the base they'd already checked it out, and were heading down. 'Not enough ice' was the verdict, 'unless you're into that Dave MacLeod shit'. I caught a twinkle in Ben's eye and up we went, for the compulsory 'wee look'.

 

Raven's Gully

Raven's is a bit more intimidating than the average scottish gully. It's steep, deep and narrow - more of an oversized chimney-crack. Five or six massive boulders lie wedged at intervals and form the major difficulties. The moves past are short lived, but dependent on ice smears and the height of the snow banks underneath. The perfect route for a couple of boulderers? After ten metres of snow we were tucked in a dry cave full of delicate icicles. Two chockstones were stacked above, but the gear looked good, and retreat easy. Can't harm to try, eh? Fifteen minutes and a lot of scratching later, and Ben had given up on the traditional left wall and moved onto the right. A sneaky gloved jam, some hand-swaps, and he was up. Now my turn. Even in good nick the left option gets tech 6, not a grade I've climbed before, so it was going to be a tough warm-up!

Just getting past the first, easier, chock was bad enough, and I plomped back down in the snow when my attempted wide bridge popped. A more determined approach saw me laid on the chock, panting, and then it was onto the crux. I avoided Ben's jam with a sneaky torqued adze, and leant out left and got a placement in the base of the smear. Before I could stop myself I'd run my feet up, whacked in a heel-toe, freed the adze and crossed through and got a better axe placement. Feet out, lean forward, wriggle right axe out, wish I was leashless, big stretch, plant once, twice... and I was up. How hard could the rest be?

Ben was ensconced in the next cave, which looked even drier, and my pitch followed a similar pattern, though this time with some awkward chimneying thrown in. And so it went on: another pitch, another chockstone, the next one featuring some wrist-straining wide bridging, followed by locking-off dodgy hooks in snow which had me wishing for a face mask.

Above the gully branched, and I headed up only to find Ben a good way up the wrong branch. On the plus side, it meant a top-rope for the tricky section switching back into the left branch, and I gained some snowy grooves. I did my best, but a tricky section had me placing a big hex before I could get above Ben, and I knew I was in for some rope drag. Thankfully it eased above, and I ran out another twelve metres or so before another steepening. A frustrating search for gear came up with nothing, and I pushed on ever further above the hex on crappy snow, only to get to another steepening. Now I'm not shy of a run-out, but I wasn't prepared to push on any further, and got stuck into another long hunt for gear. Finally an almost-spike and an icy cam off to the left at least gave the rope some punctuation, and it was up again.

With proper neve, or some trickles of ice, this pitch would have been steady IV, but with only crusty snow and the odd buried turf blob it was decidedly tough. Above looked easier, but the rope drag was getting bad. Ben stripped his belay and climbed down, and I pushed higher, but still no belay in sight. Higher was a tight chimney that looked like the final hurdle, and in the back I found out a small chock and threaded my first decent runner in forty metres. By now Ben was climbing too, so I wriggled on and made the belay, about seventy metres out from the traverse. They say these things are enjoyable retrospectively... I'm still waiting!

Ben on top of The Buachaille

The reward, though, was the summit. Clear air, a few raggedy clouds, and hardly a breath of wind. Ben Nevis to the north, Ben More on the horizon to the west, and in every direction a sea of snow-clad hills. Having had an annual trip up here for the last few years I was getting to know them now, making the view all the more special. Ben Cruachan, Schiehallion, Kintail - . We headed down, and at the lip of Coire na Tuilach I paused for a last look around, drinking it all in, before, reluctantly, descending.

View north to Ben Nevis

'But can we still claim them?'

So said Grimer to me yesterday, with a kind of glazed glee in his eyes. He was drunk, drunk on being handed access to rock normally out of reach, and so were we. In a few, crucial places the snow has redrawn the landscape and, as far as certain climbs are concerned, all of history has become but a footnote. Forty-foot walls have become bouldering height, boulder-choked gullies have become soft, flat platforms. As I've said before, I'm all about getting the best out of the weather, and if there's one thing I'll avoid its contrived behaviour. With the crags finally dry and the roads clear, on thursday I was out to a crag transformed. Alternating digging and ticking was a great way to keep warm, and by sunset we even had platforms to come back to.

Nige Kershaw on No More Excuses, High Neb

So can we claim them? Who cares? I just want to enjoy them while I can. These local crags hold few surprises by now, but suddenly its like having whole new buttresses unveiled. A stout spade is handy, as most of the drifts have a ridges top that needs taking off, just enough to make a pad platform, and there's usually a crevasse down the back which can accomodate the extra. In some places, the top half of the crag becomes a bouldering venue. In others, its more a case of a poor landing becoming more acceptable.

Three Blind Mice is a good example. Normally a bold E7 popular with would-be hard grit headpointers, presently its a ideal bouldering spot with three problems, crossing the bulge at different points and getting harder right to left. The interesting thing is how arbitrary the crux of the route is. Cross the bulge as per the classic shot of Dave Pegg, and its a great move, but move only slightly right, and its easier but not as good, and fast becoming a bad sequence on a much easier line of holds. Bouldering encourages you to do all the variations and not worry which earns a tick. The left-hand line is entirely independent but a good bit harder and less secure. Whether it becomes a route when the snow goes remains to be seen, but for now its a great 7b that Dan Varian managed first and christened Snowblind Mice.

Matt Pickles, Shine On, BAWs crawl area

After a busy saturday at The Plantation, we headed up to High Neb on sunday, and enjoyed a wonderful day on a great circuit meeting no other climbers. More digging enabled me to sneak in a potential new line - a direct start to Old Friends - dubbed 'Friends like these' at around 7b, though likely easier for the tall. Currently it has a nice landing which will also make Old Friends feel a good bit friendlier too. Second ascent still up for grabs,...

Matt Pickles, Shine On, BAWs crawl area

Here's a list of this week's essential ticks, north to south.
*Snowball ratings: 3*** = landing revolutionised, have no fear, 2** = landing significantly improved, now highball, 1* = landing slightly improved, pack your balls. NB assuming a modicum of topping out skills, no lowballs here...

Stanage

Pig's ear/ Crew Pegs Diffs/ No more excuses - all ***
Wolf Solent  ***
Kelly's Overhang **
Friends like These ***, Old Friends **

(Daydreamer might be worth a look. Shirley's looks totally buried)

Weather Report ***
Silk ***
Don *, Ulysses *, White Wand * (someone should dig out Fairy Groove, potentially***)
Big Air * and going fast...

Grace & Danger ***
Boys will be boys * (dug but not tested)
Cemetery Waits ***, Shine On *, Golden Path ***

Burbage
Puck ***, Superstition * (tested!)
Long Tall Sally, Three Blind Mice, Ai No Corrida - all ***

Nige Kershaw, Shine On, BAWs crawl area

Lots more to go at too, I'm working this week but looking forward to a world of platforms by friday, over to you...

edit - just had some reports of Nectar (first pitch) *** and Goosey Goosey Gander **

Snow fun

One of the things I try to do is not fight the weather. In fact its more than that, on any given day I obsess about how to get the most out of it. Despite having well over half the days in the year at my disposal, it never seems like there is enough time. Climbing and photography have different requirements, so the first decision is which to prioritise, though both sets of gear usually make it into the car boot. Both pursuits have plenty of sub-disciplines with their own requirements, so with really good local knowledge there's usually plenty of choice. At this time of year though, bad weather can really be a challenge for climbing, along with an almost desperate urge to make the most of any sunlight going.

White Edge, a couple of days before the snow really hit

The last couple of weeks have been no exception.Although a select few bouldering venues remain snow free, there's much more to be gained by embracing the snow. I've had a few days out winter climbing which have proved a little frustrating due to the short days, long drives and crowds. Twice we ended up on obscure routes to avoid queues, only to get lost and have to retreat by abseil to avoid benightment.

Barson lost on the frozen wastes of Ysgolion Duon

Having spent a frustrating last week indoors whilst the clear skies froze the country, it was no surprise to find with the weekend came the cloud, and I remain sceptical of the big freeze lasting much longer. Snow in the eastern Peak isn't unusual, but it is twelve years or so since we had anything comparable and whilst it has of course raised questions about just how climate change will affect our little maritime bubble, on my first day off I was pretty desperate to make the most of it. This is what we came up with.


Mam Tor clips from Adam Long on Vimeo.

Nine out of ten

I work alternate weeks at the mo, and the way I like to think about it is this: five days on, nine days off. Throw in a lucky early finish on friday, and that week off makes for ten chances to get out climbing. Last 'week' was great - I only missed one.


Sunday

 Nige Kershaw on Narcissus, E6 6b. Pads help, but the hard bit is at the top...

At the base of Froggatt's Downhill Racer is a grassy hollow in the boulders. The crag is generally a better suntrap than most, and this one of the best spots, on a windy day trapping one of those pockets of stillness that often form right against the base of a crag. By mid-morning I was tucked in it, pad forming a comfy sofa, watching the wind and sun dry the rock and the land come bright again. The signs of the last six weeks' deluge were still around; long streaks down Great Slab, the brook a leaping torrent braiding through the trees. I go through the normal drill - slow start, a couple of problems on Joe's, then Long John's, Downhill, Heartless, Artless. By the end I'm flowing nicely, the freshly dried rock giving great friction. Downhill again, this time direct, then again in my trainers. Nige does Narcissus, I don't, we move onto Toy Boy and fail into the darkness. A magical autumn day. Finally.


Tuesday

Despite a slow start, its still damp when we get to the crag. Despite the conditions, Bransby does The Joker with his mum spotting, then skips off back to Hathersage. We sit and chat, drink from our flasks, as more folk arrive and the day brightens.

Later, we're up at Shirley's again. Still a grey sky, but cold and now dry. I expect I'll lose the gift to climb this slab well before I tire of doing so. Today I get to induct another five folk into its secrets; a good haul. The start is guarded by an unpleasantly sharp pebble - the trick not to pull, but to push. Understand that, and it should stand you in good stead for the rest of the route too.


Thursday

Dan Varian on Careless Torque, highball font 8a

I don't believe in routes having auras that prevent ascents, but I do believe that at some point the little bubble of collective knowledge about a piece of rock reaches a critical mass and explodes into the consciousnesses of the many. Today that happened with Careless Torque. It was clear, bright, and for me far too warm for those starting slopers. But not for the others; Dan falls off the top, then gets his tick, Caff works out a new sequence for the short, and gets to the top move, whilst Mike and Ned run laps on increasingly ludicrous font-style links. Mike almost manages to make it look easy, and the others certainly don't make it look hard. What has changed? Well not much, but there is now a choice of well-established sequences to start, and a list of ascensionists of increasingly varied height. And often the most powerful beta is simply knowing someone who has done it. Ben's effort on The Joker is a good example - despite previously thinking himself perhaps too short or too static, he also that knows on crimps, he can burn me off anytime. Once I'd done it, it was just a matter of time.


Friday

 Mike Adams on Toy Boy E6 7a/ highball font 7c

The valley is grey. Mist fills the floor, and above it hides the edges too. Between, a layer of clear air. The vapours build, meet and part, flow softly west. The woodland drips. At Froggatt the rock is dry, almost, the lichen glowing green. Despite drier options we stay, and try Toy Boy. Folk come and go, but no one really gets anywhere, save for Mike, who can reach past the crux. After Sunday I thought it would be a formality, but I don't mind failing.


Saturday

I wander round the Plantation with a hangover, do a few problems, take a few photos. Nothing remarkable, but the beauty of the place on this crisp winter day is intoxicating, and surrounds us on our circuit.

At dusk I throw my pad under Careless torque, try the start alone in the fading light, and feel at home. I wonder if I can draw myself into the previous week's momentum and get myself up it. But no. Its been a few years since I was doing the start regularly, and I need everything to be perfect. Today they aren't quite, but I don't let that impact this lovely evening.

It would be nice to climb it. But, it would be nice too never to climb it, and just fail forever. What's important is just to be here and feel the wonder of just being alive. There are many doors to perception, but for me, for now, this one works about the best.

Peak appeal

Mountaineer Andy Cave has just finished his 2009 lecture tour. After his life-changing trip to Changabang, Andy returned home bewildered and unsure about his continuing motivation for climbing. Ultimately the gentle beauty of his home landscape drew him back in, and he found some catharsis through the simple joy of movement on the boulders.

To try and illustrate this in his slideshow, Andy got in touch with me to put a selection of images together. Andy Kirkpatrick added some suitable music and some nifty fades, and the result is what you see below. There aren't any captions, but if you want to know more about any of the photos drop me an email. I think it works well - great places, great times.

Peak slideshow from Adam Long on Vimeo.

With the weather finally taking a turn for the better this week, the above also seems a pretty good advert for the charms of The Peak right now. I've been out six days out of the last seven, and whilst there's been a certain amount of searching out dry rock, the rewards have been rich. The scene seems very healthy and with an amazing amount of talent about, things really feel to be moving forward. I'll write a bit more next week when the dust has settled, but suffice to say that whilst today was a fair milestone in the history of the Grand Hotel, it only felt like a warm-up.