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Our first day out. Sunny, cold, and perfect conditions. Stanage Plantation.
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My skin has officially gone west. It has always been on the brink, but it is now in the land of unbelievably pathetic. I was all excited to enjoy some gritstone slopers in prime winter conditions but I found that for me, there is no such thing as a gritstone sloper. The term, sloper, would conjure imagery of a kind hold, maybe a bit hard to hold but never brutal in the way a sharp crimp might be brutal. Right around the time blood gushed from the seventh of my wrecked fingertips, I left behind the idea of a nice gritstone sloper. These things are piranhas. They eat your fingers alive, and if you happen to be the poor sap who scrapes his face against the wall while falling from a problem (known to the sadistic brits as a “grit kiss”), you might possibly be in the market for a plastic surgeon. The bizarre thing is, I used to gush about how great gritstone slopers were. Perhaps this is just a case of too much of a good thing.
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The most beautiful line for its grade in the Peak. Tim climbing the high diagonal of Not To Be Taken Away (v6/B7).
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Our first two weeks in England were fantastic. We had good weather, crisp (to the point of numbing cold) and clear for at least the majority of the time. Climbing in winter was a whole different ballgame. If you could get past the excruciating pain of warming your frozen fingers up – you could pretty much hold onto anything. We drove all over Yorkshire and down to the Peak, spending some time at Gardoms for Randy to send the brilliant problem “8 Ball”.
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Jerry climbing Feel Good (7c+) at Eagle Tor.
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When our friends managed to sneak out of work during the week, we would all head down to the peak and get first rate tours from the gritstone masters. A friend of ours, Jenny, had a day off and we drove down for an excellent, much needed, above freezing day at Burbage West; avoiding the wailing wind and trying like hell on West Side Story. Jenny is one of those brits who is both brilliant on routes and can also manage to crank like hell on really hard boulder problems. She casually did some sick technical moves to get past the heinous first crux of West Side Story. It was so inspiring, I ended up flailing about for most of the afternoon trying in vain to repeat her beta. Randy, Ben, and Jerry got lucky with a sunny and crispy cool day out at Robin Hood's Stride and Eagle Tor. Climbing with these two UK legends is absolutely hilarious. They've put up loads of hard gritstone problems and they've got a story behind almost every one.
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The view from Almscliff Tor.
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After two weeks of freezing cold, the weather finally warmed up a bit and the snow melted. Unfortunately this was also the turning point for my skin. I started getting a couple splits, then all of a sudden I was taping four fingers and the fifth was ready to die. So I took four entire days of rest, getting all of my fingers back to normal. Then I went out, so excited to climb, and after a careful warm up jumped on Jerry’s Arete. Jerry’s Arete has no other holds than slopers. It’s just one long sloping rail. It had to be safe – there was no way anyone could split a tip on that climb. I didn’t split A tip – I split SEVEN in one go. I was all ready for the jump, next thing I know I’m on the ground and blood is gushing from seven of my fingertips. Totally west.
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Tim Clifford, crimping like only he can, on Cypher (8b) at the Slipstones.
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We had some amazing climbing days with our hosts, Tim and Anne. We would wake up in the morning and it would be pissing outside. After having multiple pints of tea and almost writing the day off, Tim and/or Randy would convince us to have a go at finding a dry crag. Somehow, after driving through a complete downpour, Tim would find a “micro climate” at someplace like the Slipstones and we would be climbing in the sunshine for the rest of the day.
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Warming up at Ilkley on a particularly green and fuzzy day.
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The climbing in England is without doubt world class, which is probably why the country tends to consistently churn out such strong people. Year round there are places to climb outdoors. Even when it’s raining they’ve discovered surprisingly perfect limestone crags that stay dry in a complete downpour. Or some enormous boulder that manages to be overhanging on all sides and has tons of holds as well. And happily, if ever an ego rears its ugly head among all these strong climbers, a thorough piss taking usually clears the problem up. All of which makes England one of my favorite countries to visit, to climb in, and to share a couple pints with the locals in an old English tavern.
(click on photos to enlarge)
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