Sunday, November 24, 2013

The Social Climber


September 2nd, my life is changing. A new leaf is turning over.

I had dreams of climbing everyday. I could have been doing what I love the most everyday. But over the years I was just a part-time punter, and now transferred from that league further down the rabbit hole into the social climber’s category.
  
I started a new job at a College in East London as a SEN Teaching Assistant. Working with teenagers can be like facing a black hole that slurps your energy out. During the same week, I set up the Squad at White Spider Climbing Wall coaching some keen youths two evenings a week after College. That’s not it all… I also have a third job! On Saturdays, yes at the weekends, I run Masterclasses and coaching at another club called IOTA. Sometimes I attend to climbing competitions to motivate and support my Squad. A question popped up in my head, when am I ever going to have time to climb for myself?

Strange to say, but I am in my best shape ever. How is this possible from working sometimes 56 hours a week? What’s the magic? The secret is there is no secret. You just have to make an effort and find time to train. You just have to stop watching television. You’ve got to cut down socializing in the London pubs. You’ve just have to wake up much earlier than you’ve ever imagined. You’ve just got to make it happen.

And you know what?
It pays off.
Is it worth it?
Every goddamn sweat.

I have been doing 6.30am sessions with strong Adrian Baxter. It takes me over an hour to travel to the wall by public transport, this means waking up at 5am. Adrian is another full-time Londoner who works ridiculously long hours too. But dude, he’s strong.

Little time left is found after College and weekends and Beastmaker pull-ups before work helps too. But I still need to leave some spare time to invest into; I have a long-term relationship with a beautiful girl who doesn’t climb. But I can still make everything work. (Just about).

Perhaps a structured weekly schedule helps the training targets. It controls everything to detail. I am not just training randomly, that’s silly if you don’t know what you’re training for. I have goals during my half terms. As we all know it’s hard to get away for the weekend when you only have one day off a week in London. This is why I plan to go away every half term. I need to climb; in fact I have to climb. Not just for the joy but also for the addiction. Just like Batman needs Robin and Popeye needs spinach, it’s the same thing.


Last month I had a week in Kalymnos with my pops and friends managing to on sight up to 8a. Just before College started, I squeezed two days on the Grit with the strong Hamer brothers, Ethan Walker and Dave Mason sending E6 and E7 scary ticks. I would never be able to achieve these sends if it wasn’t for the amount of training I did. If I had a lazy gene, I could have easily climbed half as much as I do now and used my work as an excuse of not having time to train. But that is a coward’s attitude.  No matter how hard and how long we work, anything is possible but it all comes to the sense of how badly do you want it? How motivated are you? How far are you willing to go? What sacrifices are you willing to make? How good do you really want to be?

Senders celebration pose (Me, Ed and Sam)
Adrian in action before most people wake up.
Kalymnos on sight swing
We aint no punters (Dad and I)
Sam showing me his secret Garage. 
Robbie Phillips warming up before exploring another island near Kalymnos 
Sometimes things happen.
Moment of truth
                                                              1-5-8 is simply not good enough. 

Tuesday, October 8, 2013

The demise of rad Climbing


                                Photo:- The legend Joonas Sailaranta 


As each new generation of climbers passes by, there have been quantum changes in climbing itself; the sport has divided into numerous sub-sports: Alpine, Traditional, Ice, Sport, Bouldering, Mixed, DWS and the list goes on. Each having it’s own code of ethics. So what’s happened to the Trad? Why are there so few people doing it these days. There’s been an explosion in the number of new climbers in the last decades with the growth of indoor climbing walls. In the last 20 years I have been climbing, I have noticed less and less climbers on the Trad cliffs. Some of the classic E grades are now so overgrown with vegetation that’s not possible to climb them anymore. Recently I had to fight my way down the dense jungle after topping out of the classic E1, Hard Rock route, Sirplum. What’s going on?

Today the majority of beginners start off the ground mainly indoors on plastic holds since the growth of indoor Climbing Walls. When a novice climber breaks through their confident barrier from top rope to leading indoors they are still a long way from Traditional Climbing where the sport was born.
   The very first eerie of climbing in Britain, I believe, were young lads chimney sweeping in the early 19th century without ropes; today soloing up these same ‘offwidth’ chimneys could be as hard as E1.
Proper climbing was introduced in the late 19th century way before the first world war and these bold men tied thick ropes round their waist and were leading with practically no gear placements on the Gritstone.
   When I was a little boy, as soon as I could start walking I was already climbing on the southern Sandstone with just a rope around my waist at the age of 4. By 10 years old I was leading VS 4a all over the UK. So, at the same age, skipping a bolt indoors on the lead was never a problem from the way I was brought up in climbing. But for those who grew up on plastic and can’t skip bolts outside, therefore Traditional Climbing can be more than just quite a fright.

Traditional climbing is not the top of the food chain in the rock sport. There is something beyond. It only subsists in the Czech Republic; there culture is another league. Some of you already know from the Sharp End that the locals use only rope knots to protect their falls as cams, nuts and even chalk is completely forbidden. These beasts obeyed their own ethics in East Europe. I thought I was quite bold till I went to the Czech myself in 2009 to experience the horror. I was shitting my pants on every lead finding it very hard to hold the sandy edges with my sweaty palms not allowing the use of chalk. But that wasn’t the problem, it was the protection, I just couldn’t bear imagining the little pieces of rope knots holding my fall if I slipped. Some of the routes left me miles alone above these pathetic gear placements. The locals have the biggest balls of them all.  One dude established an 8b+ route with no chalk and rubbish knots protecting himself. Never wonder why more climbers have died in the Czech then anywhere else in the world climbing.  Recently this year, our very best British Wide Boyz Tom and Pete couldn’t do the hardest Off-Width in the Czech, they found it desperate. The climbing in Czech is almost a myth, a legend of very tough climbers who regular solo in barefeet stuff we can’t imagine doing.

Back in Britain in the late 70’s before bouldering and bolts developed. All the climbers began to worry about the classic traditional crags in the future. Since climbing is expanding fast, everyone assumed the cliffs would be exploded with climbers ruining the rock. 40 years later; there are less people doing Traditional than before in some parts of the UK. On the sunniest day of them all, more than half the climbers are on plastic. Madness.

Traditional climbing requires lots of practice, lots of understanding on placing gear properly and staying safe. It’s very easy to make a small mistake that welcomes death. But once you click, the challenge will still always be the trick. Traditional routes in the UK have a real character, a history, usually a stunning view, a mission, a memory and sometimes a wee little fright.
   Sport climbing seems to out climb Trad these days. You can climb much harder and increase a limit that you’ve never of imagined as it’s totally safe on bolts. Youngsters today are just hungry for the magic numbers to be updated on their 8a.ego scorecard, don’t get me wrong, I am not being hypocrite as I have been influenced by the modern media for hard sport climbing as I love the numbers too. But these points and projects can kill you inside. As strongman Stuart Littlefair says, “An obsession with grades and performance can ruin lives. It can make you neglect your friends and family. It can make you abandon the rest of your life. Sport climbing can make you hate climbing itself.” Stuart has climbed many hard 8c’s in the UK guessing his weapon to keep the joy is mixing the genres, he does traditional and bouldering and keeps mixing up.  That applies a proper climber is an ‘all rounder’ like master Dave Macleod who can climb the top level in every category such as Bouldering, V15, Sport 9a, Traditional E11, Ice and mixed M12, and Scottish winter X1/X11. Wow.

High up, pumped trying to place a nut can be scary; in fact so scary sometimes I have discovered my leg shaking like sewing machine during the longer run outs or above ridiculous protection. But isn’t that the joy? the challenge in Traditional?
   Alexander Megos is a rising German rock star who recently made a historical mark claiming the worlds first 9a On-Sight, yes before Adam Ondra. He once went on a trip to the US where he during 121 days did 135 routes and boulders graded 8a and harder including the 9 grade. What’s interesting is, Alexander tried some Traditional Climbing in the Indian Creek, Utah and said “5.10 (E2) was hard, 5.11 (E4) really hard and 5.12 (E5/6) mostly impossible.” So climbing the odd 9a doesn’t mean you can fire up routes on cams. Its big bottles you need.

This summer, I went on a sport-climbing trip to Ceuse (France) rewarded with some good On Sights and Redpoints. The challenge was high and the lines were superb despite France always has dry quality rock, lots of it, probably more routes than anywhere in the world with sunshine. But now, I barely remember the names of all the hard routes I did, next year I will probably forget. But whilst caming, you can remember them all. During my visit to Millstone earlier this year I managed to On Sight the Traditional route London Wall, which I never thought I was capable of. But somehow, a miracle, I did. And now I will always remember the route, in fact every damn move I suffered on. I fought my way through every finger jam as the On Sight only lays once and it’s very precious to achieve. But I nearly discovered some air miles near the top run out. John Allen did London Wall in 1975, he was ahead of his time back then. This was 2 years before cams were invented, the master used nuts only, what a pair of big balls he had!
  London Wall can still brush off the hot shots. Alex Johnson is a leading American female Boulderer with a few V12’s under her belt and has redpointed up to 8a on bolts too. In Spring 2010, Alex was in the Peak District and managed to flash London Wall on a top rope. But tried to lead it 7 times and just got too scared and dropped the project.  The route is only around the French grade 7a, but have you got enough guts to trust your nuts?

Perhaps it’s a good thing having limited climbers on our precious rock, which avoids the routes turning into glass. Perhaps, we trad climbers should appreciate our precious sport that many climbers today wouldn’t dare consider touching. Perhaps I should stop blogging and go climbing outside now. 



 The Nose, El Capitan
 My homemade rack, Czech Republic
 London Wall, Millstone
 Dangerous protection in Czech and still using an old rope that certainly didn't help much during a fall. (I don't know why I am still alive)
 Dad in the Czech
 Admiring the beauty of the sandstone towers, Czech.
 Florian Rieder on Separate Reality, Yosemite. 
 I did The Rasp (E2) when I was 15, I still remember the day! Higgar Tor
Ted Kingsnorth on Linkline E6, Higgar Tor


Monday, August 12, 2013

Moments in Ceuse


It was a Tuesday, just another day travelling across towns in France. Here I was, alone, sitting in a small cafe somewhere in Valence killing time before my next train to Gap. A nice traditional French Cafe supplied red weaved chairs, some pot plants in flower baskets placed around the outdoor sitting area marking the cafe’s territory. There was a strong textured smell of Lucky Strike cigarettes and Espresso floating in the air. A young waiter approached towards me, she had dark brown hair tied back and on her black apron was a grey badge with her name ‘Bella’ on. She reminded me of the actress Audrey Tautou from one of those French flicks. She darted her eyes towards me giving me the ready-to-take-your-order signal. This was a special moment for me, a moment where I could practice my French. In fact show off my French. I was definitely going to use ‘the moment’. Perhaps I should introduce myself first? She may be impressed that I have a French name. Actually no, this is stupid; people don’t do that back in London. People don’t go in restaurants and say ‘Hi my name is John’ with a long pause just waiting for the waiter’s response. That’s creepy and pathetic. I am just going to take the order.

‘Bonjour, je veux avoir un sandwich, Jambon au fromage SVP’

I was dead pleased to have some knowledge in another language rather than just BSL until Bella frowned at me, sending me the message that she hadn’t got a clue what I’ve just said. Perhaps I was nervous and talking too fast. Perhaps I wasn’t speaking loud enough. Maybe I should speak up a bit?

‘BONJOUR, JE VEUX AVOIR UN SANDWHICH JAMBON AU FROMAGE SVP’

Bella frowned even more, the whole Espresso addictions turned around to observe what was going on, possibly to their curiosity that some madman is unhappy with the service and some exciting drama was about to happen that they see regularly in French soaps. I was not going to look like an idiot three times in a row, so, by saving myself from this mess I decided to just point at the menu. Bella leaned forward to have a closer look at what my tummy was after. She leaned back to where she was standing and tilted her head back slightly giving the ‘Ah’ sound. She then disappeared back inside to sort out my order whilst I could then loosen my shoulders. Some of the Espresso addictions were still staring at me. I felt like shouting back ‘Oi, what ya looking at’ which, what most Chavs would do back in the Northern areas of Britain. Meanwhile later, my order has finally arrived after the hassle. Hallelujah. Bella places the dish on my table with no smile whatsoever. It’s not quite what I ordered, in fact, it’s different. I surfed my eyes around the Panini as if I was a food critic writing a review for Good Health or something. I looked up at Bella and for once, It was my turn to frown.

‘Jambon and Fromage?’ I said quietly with my frown revenge.

She suddenly began to throw out French at me with quite a tune; she’d definitely didn’t approve of my frown. Her words were meaningless and foggy. Jesus Christ, more people in the Cafe tuned around to see the pantomime. I had assumed the French soap narrative hadn’t been very satisfying recently for the locals and this was ‘their moment’ to gain pleasure from me and Bella. The whole drama was going off script therefore it was best to give up and raise the innocent hand saying ‘okay, okay, it’s fine’. My words were probably foggy too to her too but she read my body language and raised her eyes before turning away from me. That’s quite a French chic attitude. The audience sensed the end of the Episode and turned back to their tables. I realised that the Panini was chicken and grilled vegetables; it was the next option down from the Ham and Cheese on the menu. I must have been pointing a few cm’s off the Ham and Cheese option.

Before dark, after a few hundred kilometres more travelling I stood below one of the worlds best crags, Ceuse. This is the most unique rock that provides real king lines and attracts many of the worlds best climbers. But to get to the base of any route requires an hour’s walk up hill. For me, an unfit part time punter, it takes closer to two hours. Pathetic I know. Once a Rock Chic from Germany approached towards me at Demi Lune sector as I was reading some book, asking me how many books I brought up to the crag with me in my rucksack.

‘Excuse me’ I said confusingly

‘Did you fill you pack up with novels’ she said with a smirk.

I frowned with confusion hoping she would continue explaining herself which she did.

‘You were really panting up the hill as I overtook you, your bag must be full of those books’ she said as she made a panting face expression that looked like one of those dogs at the crags.

This was towards the end of my trip, I thought I was getting fitter walking up as the days went by. But she was right, I was panting all the way, just like the crag dogs. I was simply getting weaker and slower. I have vowed not to return to Ceuse until they build a cable car. I pulled the ‘ah’ face as I slowly worked out her joke.

‘No, only this book, but, it’s a very heavy book.’ I responded.

The campsite reminds me of Camp 4 in Yosemite, it’s cheap, and all nationalities hang out together like one big family. Everyone is one of you, came a long way just to climb the best they can possibly perform. It was nice to see some old friends of mine from Finland and Austria. I met many other nationalities who I later hanged out with from Singapore, Denmark, Italy, Mexico etc.  You can meet some of the coolest dudes here and some of the strangest weirdo’s. There was a Mormon from Utah who once followed me up the hill; she had previously been trying to fill my friend in some ideas about god. She was the only person to wear a helmet at the crag that had a sticker on saying ‘Just Wear It’. I knew I had to play the deaf card to escape which I certainly did. After half way up the hill, I decided to adapt into my ultra slow walking speed. But that didn’t work. She was still right behind me, like a bicycle and a trailer. Near the top, I stopped for some water. She used her ‘moment’ to talk to me about her philosophy in climbing. She said ‘climbing’s addictive’ with real passion. She must have felt a genius coming up with something so profound as ‘climbing’s addictive’. I bet one day she will see it on a  bumper sticker thinking someone’s probably ripped her off. But as soon as we got to the top, I was suddenly picked off the ground on some route on some rope by someone.

I was going well this trip and managed to send a few 8a+’s quickly. I never worked on anything hard simply because I lost time with having to return back to London for an important interview then back out to Ceuse, then the storm arrived which threw more precious climbing days into the bin. So, it was a moral to focus on routes I could send in a day rather than over several days.

Evening conversations are great out in Ceuse, everyone just talks about climbing, this is something completely forbidden in my family, and even my own girlfriend would only ask the usual question ‘How many grade 8’s this trip Andre’ before she starts going on about fashion and festivals. And of course; at work, in the staff room I don’t think anyone knows I Rock Climb apart from one teacher who choked over her coffee when I told her my hobby as if she had never heard the word ‘climbing’ before. It is totally the opposite of the staff room conversations at work. They are usually something about The Vic in Eastenders or who-does-she-think-she-is gossip of people I have never heard of.

Having visit the crag several times before, the escalade in Ceuse is definitely my favourite sport-climbing venue.

Sector Cascade
 Ceuse
 Joonas, the man with a plan
La Femme Blanche, 8a+, Photo by Eddie Gianelloni www.eddiegianelloni.com
 Pig's brain anyone?
Stevie on Carte Blanche, 8a
 Pimping in the van
 Fatty Barrows
La Femme Blanche, 8a+
The rest days!
 World Cup Champion Sachi Amma belaying for a change
 Some Italian on Carte Blanche, 8a
 Dinner time
 The crisp boys
 Early morning after the storm
 Black Veined White
 Michelle showing us how it's done
Me and trouble
 Matt on Vagabond, 7c
 Some punter on something
 5.10 art(!)
 Stevie on Blanche
The best 7b+ ever
 Living in the moments