Risking it; Trad Headpoints
Something about the human psyche gives us an interesting relationship with risk.
From an evolutionary perspective, taking big risks makes little sense. Logically our imperative should focus on being well fed, well sheltered, and avoiding doing anything that could put our future in jeopardy.
However, being logical has never been our strong point.
Over the previous summer I've skirted with risk on a few occasions. Climbers are perceived as having an intrinsic relationship with risk, but I'm not so sure. If anything, climbers are most focused on safety, on controlling the environment in which they operate. We carry large racks of gear, practice knots and building belays and abseiling; all to stay safe.
Perhaps then, bold climbing is merely an extension of this process. A refined method. Once the options have been exhausted, once the gear has been fiddled in and the movements memorised, only one further method of control remains; mental strength.
In early September I was down in the Dinorwig Slate Quarries with Ally Smith, making the most of a relatively crisp September day. We were working the moves on 'The Medium', a F8a slab that is much more deserving of its original grade of E7/7a.
The technical movement on Medium is such that it requires a strangely dynamic approach, consisting mostly of fierce rockovers on smears with micro edges for hands. After a few hours I was happy enough to say that I'd got most of the moves done, and gratefully took my shoes off to massage my sore toes. Standing back from the slab, we noticed the route over to the left of Medium, a bold E7/6b called 'My Halo'. In the light of having climbed English 7a moves for most of the day, the 6b climbing of My Halo looked comparatively welcoming. We adjusted the top rope, and I pulled on for a play. To my surprise, I found myself moving smoothly through the crux sections and latching hold of the finishing jugs within minutes.
Onsighted on a top rope? It doesn't leave you with many excuses.
We didn't have much light left, and the midges were starting to gather; I needed to be quick. We quickly scoped out the gear - an IMP 2, and two skyhooks. Not exactly a bomber nest, but it'd have to do. I geared up at the bottom, going through the usual process of getting into my calm head space. I needed to be solid on this one. I tied in, took a breath, and committed.
Post crux wobbles kicked in hard, and I edged desperately back and forth on the small ledge for many minutes before finally shuffling off tentatively - much to the relief of Ally, his face now swollen from the indefatigable assault of the midges.
A week later, I made the long walk up Jacobs Ladder to Upper Edale Rocks, accompanied by Neil Furniss. Neil was keen to try a notoriously hard gritstone roof/arete called 'The Mentalist Cupboard'. The route takes powerful dynamic moves out through the roof to positive crimps on the arete, before a wild slab and rockover leads to a gripping topout. In other words, it didn't suit my weak, technical style in the slightest.
After a few extended working attempts and a whole lot of beta gathering, I could nearly do the route. Nearly, but not quite. The hardest move going out to the arete was just too powerful. I was frustrated, but still psyched to see Neil cruise through the hard moves on his successful solo attempt.
Afterwards I wandered along the crag, checking out the other routes in the guide. Over on the left hand side of the crag I noticed an awesome disk shaped roof of gritstone, barely three inches thick at the lip, jutting out from the crag in a really prominent position. Equally awesome was the complete lack of any line shown in the guidebook, or online. I had a cursory play on top rope, and the moves were easy but brilliant fun, with runners at the back of the roof to protect the initial swing, but nothing past that.
How could I resist?
A few days later, I had a day to myself and no climbing partner. Feeling psyched from my previous experience on moorland grit, I decided to get the bus out to Hayfield and make the long walk in to Kinder Northern Edges to try a route I'd seen in the guide called 'Natural Born Chillers', E6/6a. The huge leaning block is climbed on its left hand side to give a stunningly technical and bold pitch.
Honestly, I'd say this one of the best routes I've done on gritstone, if not across all rock types. Good gear in a low break becomes steadily less comforting as you move higher via a combination of heel hooks, high feet and tenuous slaps to sloping holds coated with pebbles. If this route was situated in one of the well travelled outcrops such as Stanage or Burbage, it would be renowned.
I cleaned the route on a shunt and worked the moves, linking it after a couple of tries. I hadn't expected to be able to lead anything that day, but to my surprise I spotted two other climbers walking across from the Snake Pass car park, obviously heading towards the edges. Half an hour later, I'd begged a belay from one of them, and was gearing up for the lead. The sun was pouring across the moors now, but the face of Natural Born Chillers was cold and high in friction. Enthusiastic brushing had worn away the layers of green lichen to reveal perfect gritstone slopers.
Time to commit.
The technical moves flowed easier on lead than they had on a rope, body no longer restricted by the drag of the shunt on the fixed rope. Gear clipped, standing below the crux...
Zone
Right heel... draw in close.
Left hand up, latch the thin seam. Pull.
Left foot high... Higher.
Pop with the right hand to the sloper... It sticks. Go again.
Jug.
Breath.
As of late, I've been trying some harder routes. Things at my limit, that may or may not be realistic. Things like Beau Geste, Soul Doubt, even Rare Lichen. Some of them felt good. Some of them even felt close.
- Mischa
From an evolutionary perspective, taking big risks makes little sense. Logically our imperative should focus on being well fed, well sheltered, and avoiding doing anything that could put our future in jeopardy.
However, being logical has never been our strong point.
Over the previous summer I've skirted with risk on a few occasions. Climbers are perceived as having an intrinsic relationship with risk, but I'm not so sure. If anything, climbers are most focused on safety, on controlling the environment in which they operate. We carry large racks of gear, practice knots and building belays and abseiling; all to stay safe.
Perhaps then, bold climbing is merely an extension of this process. A refined method. Once the options have been exhausted, once the gear has been fiddled in and the movements memorised, only one further method of control remains; mental strength.
 |
| Onsighting Bob's Jolly Jape, E4/6a. |
In early September I was down in the Dinorwig Slate Quarries with Ally Smith, making the most of a relatively crisp September day. We were working the moves on 'The Medium', a F8a slab that is much more deserving of its original grade of E7/7a.
The technical movement on Medium is such that it requires a strangely dynamic approach, consisting mostly of fierce rockovers on smears with micro edges for hands. After a few hours I was happy enough to say that I'd got most of the moves done, and gratefully took my shoes off to massage my sore toes. Standing back from the slab, we noticed the route over to the left of Medium, a bold E7/6b called 'My Halo'. In the light of having climbed English 7a moves for most of the day, the 6b climbing of My Halo looked comparatively welcoming. We adjusted the top rope, and I pulled on for a play. To my surprise, I found myself moving smoothly through the crux sections and latching hold of the finishing jugs within minutes.
Onsighted on a top rope? It doesn't leave you with many excuses.
We didn't have much light left, and the midges were starting to gather; I needed to be quick. We quickly scoped out the gear - an IMP 2, and two skyhooks. Not exactly a bomber nest, but it'd have to do. I geared up at the bottom, going through the usual process of getting into my calm head space. I needed to be solid on this one. I tied in, took a breath, and committed.
 |
| Staying calm above the crux of 'My Halo', E7/6b |
Post crux wobbles kicked in hard, and I edged desperately back and forth on the small ledge for many minutes before finally shuffling off tentatively - much to the relief of Ally, his face now swollen from the indefatigable assault of the midges.
A week later, I made the long walk up Jacobs Ladder to Upper Edale Rocks, accompanied by Neil Furniss. Neil was keen to try a notoriously hard gritstone roof/arete called 'The Mentalist Cupboard'. The route takes powerful dynamic moves out through the roof to positive crimps on the arete, before a wild slab and rockover leads to a gripping topout. In other words, it didn't suit my weak, technical style in the slightest.
After a few extended working attempts and a whole lot of beta gathering, I could nearly do the route. Nearly, but not quite. The hardest move going out to the arete was just too powerful. I was frustrated, but still psyched to see Neil cruise through the hard moves on his successful solo attempt.
 |
| Neil Furniss on 'Mentalist Cupboard' E7/6c. |
Afterwards I wandered along the crag, checking out the other routes in the guide. Over on the left hand side of the crag I noticed an awesome disk shaped roof of gritstone, barely three inches thick at the lip, jutting out from the crag in a really prominent position. Equally awesome was the complete lack of any line shown in the guidebook, or online. I had a cursory play on top rope, and the moves were easy but brilliant fun, with runners at the back of the roof to protect the initial swing, but nothing past that.
How could I resist?
 |
| On the first ascent of 'The Roof Worrier', E4/5c. |
A few days later, I had a day to myself and no climbing partner. Feeling psyched from my previous experience on moorland grit, I decided to get the bus out to Hayfield and make the long walk in to Kinder Northern Edges to try a route I'd seen in the guide called 'Natural Born Chillers', E6/6a. The huge leaning block is climbed on its left hand side to give a stunningly technical and bold pitch.
Honestly, I'd say this one of the best routes I've done on gritstone, if not across all rock types. Good gear in a low break becomes steadily less comforting as you move higher via a combination of heel hooks, high feet and tenuous slaps to sloping holds coated with pebbles. If this route was situated in one of the well travelled outcrops such as Stanage or Burbage, it would be renowned.
I cleaned the route on a shunt and worked the moves, linking it after a couple of tries. I hadn't expected to be able to lead anything that day, but to my surprise I spotted two other climbers walking across from the Snake Pass car park, obviously heading towards the edges. Half an hour later, I'd begged a belay from one of them, and was gearing up for the lead. The sun was pouring across the moors now, but the face of Natural Born Chillers was cold and high in friction. Enthusiastic brushing had worn away the layers of green lichen to reveal perfect gritstone slopers.
Time to commit.
The technical moves flowed easier on lead than they had on a rope, body no longer restricted by the drag of the shunt on the fixed rope. Gear clipped, standing below the crux...
Zone
Right heel... draw in close.
Left hand up, latch the thin seam. Pull.
Left foot high... Higher.
Pop with the right hand to the sloper... It sticks. Go again.
Jug.
Breath.
 |
| On the crux of 'Natural Born Chillers', E6/6a. |
As of late, I've been trying some harder routes. Things at my limit, that may or may not be realistic. Things like Beau Geste, Soul Doubt, even Rare Lichen. Some of them felt good. Some of them even felt close.
- Mischa
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