Me climbing in Mallorca back in May 2009, the shot was taken for the updated Rockfax guidebook to the area. This route was about 7a, only the bolts were all pretty well rusted which made it feel more like an E5! Photo by Mark Glaister.

July 9th, 2010

The last two months have been spent juggling coaching in the Peak District, working on the Languedoc guidebook, working on a Peak bouldering guidebook, and getting a spot of climbing done. The Langedoc guide is looking very polished now - I just need one more trip down to France to finish off a few areas and it will be out of my hands. I've only spent a few days on the Peak bouldering guide, but a number of the best areas are done, so I'm hoping to finish both books this year.

The best thing I've done this summer is start developing a new sports venue in my old local area: Gower. The crag is Paviland Far West. I'd been there years ago on two occasions. At the time I'd not been thinking in terms of bolts and had approached the crag from a trad perspective. I'd placed a few pegs and reasoned that the line I was interested in was mostly not too hard, but with a really hard section in the middle. I couldn't work out a way of protecting it, so left it. In the meanwhile, after I'd left the area I heard that it had been agreed that this wall could be developed as a sport crag. The only problem was it was always wet.

Fast forward to this May when I heard that everything in the UK was as dry as it could be, and I knew I would have to check it out one last time. This time armed with a drill, glue, and some nice stainless 'twizzlers' traded with Roy Thomas. Simon Rawlinson and I went to the wall. We spent a long day getting bolts in place (it was really steep and as we were using glue-ins we couldn't weight the bolts to help us get in), but at the end of it we got two lines well bolted - we would have bolted more except we had no more battery power. We each had a go on our respective projects and both far too knackered! However I got back down there a few days later with Audrey and got my line first redpoint - I called it Zulu Wall - following on from a name of a route given by Andy Sharp - and reckon it's a soft-touch 8a. Simon got back there not long after and redpointed his route: Ultimatum - 7c. He got some great photos of the routes too, though I really want to get back there and get some more.

A lot of development has been going on on Gower. There are now about thirteen sport crags on Gower, and all worth a visit. I thought it would be good to help get the word out - so I'm going to write an article for Climber, and do a MiniGuide for Rockfax. I need to get one more visit to Gower before I can finish these two little projects, but the photos I've take so far are looking pretty good.

Above: Chris Shepheard on Ultimatum (7c), Paviland Far West, Gower.

Below: Rob Lamey on Zulu Wall. Photos by Simon Rawlinson.

May 4th, 2010

It's the first day back from a two month book research trip to France. The French guidebook that I'm currently working on covers the area west of my previous guide to Haute Provence. In fact, I'd already started on some of the crags, and I'd take some photos of Seynes, Claret, and Russan with a view to including them in the previous book - but alas it was just too much for one book!

Claret

I posted an invitiation to the French trip onto the UKClimbing forum, and got an excellent response from a large number of climbers keen to come out to France from anything from a few days to month. This made working on the book a lot easier, as there were always people to photograph. It also meant that we could club together and rent a series of gites, which way far more comfortable - and besides, the campsites weren't even open in March so there wasn't much choice. In fact it worked out only slightly more expensive to get a lavish gite than it would have cost to camp (around €10 per person per night).

We started off with two weeks spent visiting Seyens, Claret and Russan. All three crags were well received by all. I was a bit concerned to start with that the average grade of the the group (around 6a+) would be too low to make the best of the areas, but I couldn't have been more wrong, and there was stacks to do. Claret was perhaps the hardest of the bunch. Sunny Seynes had a lot more than I knew about, especially in the 5s and low 6s, but it was Russan that was a real eye-opener, I'd only seen the hard, steep routes there - I was amazed at how much fantastic climbing there was below 7a, and even below 6a.

Crossing the river at Russan to take the crag shots - never again! (Photo by Piers Cunliffe)

I already had a lot of crag shots of Seynes and Claret, but I'd not taken good enough shots for Russan as the river at the base had stopped me getting into position. This time around I was prepared with an inflatable kayak, the hike down to the water's edge was a mission with the boat and camera gear hanging off me, but it was well worth the effort as the crag shots were great. Getting back was a work-out again, but you only have to take the right shot once!

After two weeks we moved on to the Ardeche, and picked another three crags. The weather wasn't that great in the Ardeche, and so I didn't manage to get it all done in two weeks, so I'll need to be back there. The climbing was very good though, with plenty to do for everyone. We did find a fair bit of polish around, but that was mostly on the warm-up grades that were closest to the road.

A crag shot of part of Russan from the other side of the river

After the Ardeche, I went off up to the Gorge du Tarn on my own, and met up with my better half, Audrey. We climbed at the Gorge du Tarm, Le Boffi, and The Jonte. All three areas are utterly brilliant, and it was hard to find a route that didn't deserve three stars! We soon bumped into a team from Swansea. I already knew Simon, as he's helped with the rebolting of Rams Tor a while ago. Audrey was out for only a week. Whe she returned, I was joined by another team, consisting of Neil, Sol, Chris, and Alex. They stuck to the Jonte for a week, and quickly we learned how tough some of the 'traditional' 6as can be. I think that the Jonte is due to get popular with visitors - at least it will be when this guide comes out. A week later and I had a week on my own to get down to some serious work. The crag shots of this area were the hardest shots I've had to take, requiring some long walks, rough driving and so very hairy climbing and scrambling to get into position.

Audrey on the last hanging belay of Le 7'eme Leffe (7a+), The Jonte.

After the Tarn, it was a long drive back east to meet up with Alan James and Team Rockfax in a lavish gite near Aix-en-Provence. Chris Craggs is producing a guidebook to that region, so we visited some of the crags and helped with getting some of the photos. Many of the crags were a bit hot in the sun, but it didn't stop Alan and myself doing the longest route at Sainte Victoire - the 450m Le Grand Parcours - it was about F5, but much of it was climbing unroped or moving together - and we got up it even after getting rather lost at times - in about 3hrs. The best crag in the area has to be Chateauvert - somewhere Audrey and I had been before. I had two good days there before getting back in the van and returning to London.

This summer I'm going to be focussed on running my coaching days in the Peak District and Portland, and doing some work on another book project that's a bit closert to home.

February 28th, 2010

Most of this month has been spent either planning a book research trip down to France for March and April or getting away on ice climbing trips. The trip down to France next month is rather a new concept in climbing trips - new to me at least. I posted onto the UKC forums an invitation to anyone who may wish to join me while in France. I was expecting to have a few replied from people who have already decided to head down to France. I wasn't expecting a deluge of replies from people who fancied coming along. As more an more people got in touch, the logistics became a bit of an issue, so I created some google docs where those interested can log-on and share plans. The result was an organic, self-organising climbing trip where most of the people have not even met each other. It's all a bit bizarre. Email me if you want to be invited onto the docs...

Above: Audrey on Cascade Lilaz (4)

Cogne, Italy

The ice started up with a long week in the Italian Val de Cogne. Audrey and I drove down to Lilaz where we had booked a room and thougt we'd start off with a nice grade 4 - E Tutto Relativo - only the third pitch hadn't properly formed, so we let discretion be the better part of valour and moved on. The next route we found was Stella Artice - which we did two pitches of, including the grade 5 crux, before it started getting dark. The next day we did the classic Lilaz Cascade which went easily enough apart from the second pitch where we took an alternative line which turned out to be quite heavily fractured and made enough scary groaning noises for me to tell Audrey to get out of the way in case it came down. Fortunately it didn't. The next day we did Lilaz Gulley - the first interest was to be found before we got to the start, when a guide asked if I could help him find a tool that his client (presumable) had dropped into the powder gulley - amazingly I managed to find it after spotting a tiny fleck of metal dark against the snow. I soon realised that a lot of people took a range of trad gear on the climb - we hadn't brought any despite the fact that it was M4+ towards the top - the guide mentioned pegs, and it turned out to be very well protected and easier to climb with my tools clipped to my harness than it would have been them in my hands. Lilaz Gulley was a long climb and coming down we were pretty tired - but not so tired that we could resist a quick tick of the particularly fat-looking Loie (3) - Audrey went up first, but soon got psyched out by it. Surprised, it was my turn, and what followed was one of the most gripping leads I've experienced, with ice shattering in great big plates, it was a big relief to get to the belay.

Above: Audrey sets off up Loie (3/4/5)

Below: me on Lilaz Gulley

The next climbing day we hiked into Valnontey, and got Patri Right Hand done - a brilliant 4+ with interesting ice, though the gear was a bit thinner than I like. We wanted to get the Left Hand done as well, but ran out of light. The last day before driving back up north we got on Candelabro del Coyote (4+/5). Audrey set off up the steep ice when an Italian guide showed up and lost no time in gearing up, after asking if it was OK for him to climb the line to the right, he set off, but after passing Audrey's highpoint, drifted left until almost abover her - now knocking off lumps of ice that missed her only narrowly. Unsurprisingly she retreated. I was furious, so though rather than catch up with this guy again we'd go climb something else. The next route along was Tuborg (4+/5), there were a lot of others all with the same idea, but soon we were climbing, and got a another classic cascade ticked. The following day we hiked in for a rematch on Candelabro - Audrey styled the first pitch, and it was my turn to follow when our Italian friend from the previous day turned up with another couple of clients. Making for the exact same line as the previous day I couldn't hold back a torrent of darkly coloured threats and he was good enough to stay out of my way. I did have to step over him at the belay to lead the next pitch and accidentally spiked him with a crampon - oops. Then it was back in the van to drive back north. We did stop off in Font, but it was completely snowed up and pretty much nothing was climbable.

Above: Me on Patri Right (4+)

Rjukan, Norway

The trip to Norway had been planned long before the trip to Cogne. The group I joined was put together through UKC after a number of the members of the original group pulled out. The trip started at the Ryanair check-in desk where we were treated with the usual contempt. At one point one of us was required to lighten our check-in bag by 900grams. Our despatch was hindered by the fact the our group had in it's collective hand luggage a bottle of cognac, a collection of toiletries, and a pair of crampons. Just before boarding there was a second weigh-in for hand luggage which required wearing all our cold weather clothing onto the plan. I shan't be flying with Ryanain EVER AGAIN.

After three hours of driving along roads that the gritters had long given up on. We arrived at Rjukan.The first thing we noticed was how cold it was - getting down to -25 at night, and not much warmer in the day - staying warm by always taking a substantial belay jacket was the order of the week. I was to team up with Mike Bate for the week as we were fairly evenly matched on ice.

Above: Mike leading up Vemorkbrufoss Vest (5)

We started with a day on the closest ice to our accommodation, by climbing Vemorkbrufoss Ost (4) and Vest (5) at Vemork Bridge. Both routes felt quite soft for their grades compared to the routes at Cogne, something that was evident all week. We finished the day on Tungtvann (4) after soloing the first pitch. The following day we moved up the gorge to the Upper Gorge and started off on Blindtarmen (4) which felt hard as there was some very brittle ice, and some odd thin ice that had formed on top of powder snow. We then did Sabotorfossen, a brilliant 5 and one of the best routes we did all week. With a 5 done, there was no going back to slabby routes - the next day, after an all-too-leisurely start, we got to Rjukan Centre and marched up to do For Alle Menn (5) - we did the left and right line, both good 5s, though things got a bit cold when the sun went down before I got to start seconding the second pitch of the left line. Hanging belays on ice screws on a big icy cliff in the dark when the temperature is probably below -20 is not a jolly place to be.

Above: A Climber on Klappfoss (4) Rjukan Centre

Below: Mike leading up the right-hand line of For Alle Menn (5) Rjukan Centre

After the late finish at Rjukan Centre, I took a rest day, and a good job too, the following day we headed out to have a crack at Jovsoyla (6) a superb big cascade that the word on the street suggested was formed in a particularly amenable condition. We got the the start before anyone else, but were soon overtaken by a strong Italian who took a short-cut up mixed ground. The second pitch was my lead, Mike was belaying off a poor spike and the second pitch lead off towards the start of the cascade proper, following a snowy rocky traverse. Not too impressed with the belay I was cautious and slow - at one point clipping a tool as a runner. The pitch turned out to not be as bad as it looked, though still the crux of the route in many ways. Following the 60m vertical cascade was great fun - it was covered in steps and required only hooking with the tools. On the way back we got a quick ascent of Tanja (5) which is usually M5, though this time formed all the way down.

Above: Me seconding the first pitch up the pillar of Jovsoyla

Below: looking down from midway up the final pitch of Jobsoyla

The last day could have been a bit of an anti-climax, we headed to Krokan for some technical fun. The first route we did was a genuinely overhanging cigar that is normally the end of Lucky Lisa - it was bullet-hard and Mike's lead was impressive - even if he did grab a tree at the lip. Next we found a mixed line right of De Kaller Meg Fjard - which was probably another 5 - though tenuous with the gear as most of the ice was too thin for screws and I had to get protection by threading behind the icicles - most no thicker than a leg. Next, Mike wanted to get a proper 'M' route done - and so had a go on Two Assholes and Five Nice Bolts (M6) - he came off the very last move after a pick blew - he was shared on a tool at that point and he other tool was still in the rock when I got the flash. As we were climbing the M6, we noticed a guy casually soloing a very impressive cigar of ice, both up and down. That was the last thing we climbed, it was another 'M' route where the ice had reached the ground to make a good grade 5 (Bored to the Exteme).

And that was the end of the ice for another year. I'm looking at driving down to France in two days - but at the moment the van has no engine. Though even that is preferablet to Ryanair.

The big news for me is seeing my Provence guidebook out in print finally! Feedback so far is that it was two years well spent. I'm keen to get cracking on the next one - which will cover the adjacent area, and in fact I've already made a fair bit of progress on some of the crags. I'll be back out there in March. I've been waiting for some errors to come to light - and so far there is only one that I've had reported (by Karin Magog) - page 30 says of Cascade sector at Ceuse "Cascade gets sun until late morning" - that should read "Cascade gets shade until mid-moring" - the following line confirms this, but thought it worth pointing out. Thanks to Karin for pointing that out.

I ended 2009 with a repeat of the sailing trip around the BVI that I took right at the start of the year. The trip involved three flights to get to boat - the last one in a Cesna so full I had to take to co-pilots seat. I offered to take over should the pilot need a break but quickly found myself at the other end of a complete sense-of-humour failure. So after going through all the security (ramped up by the fact that someone tried to blow up a plane with his pants the day before) all I needed to do to take control of a plane was reach out to the controls...

We took a couple of kayaks with us this time, and they were well used and partly made up for an almost total lack of wind.

Last weekend Audrey and I headed down to South Wales to check out the ice climbing - which was reportedly getting quite good, and having never climbing any winter routes in the UK, I was keen to get something done - even just for novelty value!

We drove over from London on Friday night and parked at what we thought was the lay-by for 'RAC Falls'. On Saturday morning, only after getting fully kitted-up did realised that we were in the wrong place - so got back in the van and drove 1km down the road to the proper parking area. It was obvious where the route was, and just one other party was on it. Another party turned up as we were gearing up at the base, they took the left side of the falls, and we took the right side which was a bit of a wake-up call - quite steep. We walked-off after about 50m as the remainder didn't look so good.

Audrey finishing up Weeping Wall WI4, Craig-Y-Llyn

Having got down by 10am, we drove over to Craig-y-Llyn. We got a bit lost trying to find the right descent, after stepping over the fence (and not following the directions) we walked for about twenty minutes to the end of the crag, where a party were descending, we followed them down, then walked for at least twenty minutes back the other way - past routes that looked great, but had lots of people on them or waiting for them. Eventually we got tired of trudging though the snow and resolved that we'd climb whatever ice fall we came across next. This turned out to be Weeping Wall (WI4) and a party, led by Gary Lewis, was in place as we arrived. The route was good - though a bit sporty as the ice ran out some way before the cliff did - and I'd already watched one of Gary's seconds take a fall - so it obviously wasn't going to be a picnic. In the end all went smoothly - though I was glad to find an old peg in place to protect the top as I'd never done any mixed climbing before - though the mix in this case involved grass rather than rock.

On Sunday, after a later start we headed off towards Virgin Falls - though missed a turning and ended up driving up Ogmore Valley - the road we were on was officially closed, but we had chains - and how bad could it be? Well, it was fine as a steady stream of traffic proved. On the way we spotted a good-looking ice-fall just a the side of the road - I didn't know what it was, which made it all the more interesting. A good, though short pitch of grade 4 was followed by a shorter, easier pitch. Afterwards we worked out that this was Ogmore Valley Falls (WI4).

Audrey finishing up Ogmore Valley Falls WI4, South Wales

I've got a couple of ice trips planned for this year - Audrey and I are off to Cogne in early February, then later in that month I'm off to Rjukan in Norway. By then I'll probably be quite keen to get back onto the rock...

October 19th, 2009

Having just got back to a chilly London from two weeks in Kalymnos, it seemed like a good time to update this page. I’ve been busier than ever coaching in the Peak District right through the summer, and so most of this summer I’ve been too busy working to do much to write about.

Coaching is currently seemingly all the rage with the BMC and MLT folks who are on a mission to bring it into the world of badges and courses. And course fees. And assessment fees. And membership fees. And no doubt there is some hope of getting the government to stump up some money to rebrand the army of climbing instructors as climbing coaches, and just maybe introduce the idea that there is more to teaching climbing than passing on esoteric knots and terror. I’d feel a little more encouraged if stringent minimum ability levels were being discussed, but I understand that the idea is not popular with those holding the highest qualification in climbing teaching in the UK (MIC ) where the minimum ability is to be able to climb VS 4c. Contrast this with the French equivalent which requires the candidate to onsight 7a (E4) under competition conditions. Is it any wonder that the French are so... good? There is of course an argument that you don’t need to be a good climber to be able to teach climbing. I think that a person wishing to dedicate themselves to career teaching climbing to climbers who wish to improve, the inability to climb at the sort of levels demanded by the French reveals either a lack of ability, or a serious lack of motivation. I rather think that ability, preferably ability that has been hard-learned over the years, and motivation are both utterly essential . In other words, I think it helps for the teacher to know more than the student.

My plans to get down the South West this year had to be cancelled when Audrey hurt her knee in the British Bouldering Championships. Instead we got the train (we’re terribly CO2 aware these days) down to the South of France where Audrey's folks were on holiday. I didn’t see much of the rock other than one day in the Gorge du Loup where I had a PDF from Chris Craggs’ forthcoming guidebook to the area. I got a couple of routes done before it was time to head back – we used the local guide to find the crag and it wasn’t terribly helpful and we spent most of the day looking for the crag. It was also nice to go paddling around the coast, and I had my first taste of Via Ferrata - which was quite fun and sociable in a way that climbing can never be. I did get to have a day at L’Éléphant at Fontainebleu on the way back. Audrey had visited her ninety-nine year old grandfather in a nearby retirement home and later in the day they turned up and we wheeled him in so he could watch some climbing. I took a photo of us there which I think is being used in Climber to accompany a little Q&A I was asked to do for them.

Photo> Audrey's mum and me on the final big ladder climb on the via ferrat we did in August.

My trip to Kalymnos was something I’d been looking forward to for a while. I had several coaching days booked up, and so it was a part-work-part-play for me. I decided to take my bolting kit out there, and had a tip-off from Aris (the Greek guidebook author) that a crag called ‘Local Cave’ was being developed and there were lines to go at. This worked out well as I was out there on my own for the first week, and spend a few days at Local Cave bolting three lines. For the second week I was joined by Dan Dyson, someone I’d started climbing with in Swansea back when I was sixteen and he was fourteen! Dan had recently quit being a solicitor and become a barrister so he would have more flexibility to go climbing. On the second week, with some very patient belaying from Dan, I got the first ascents of two on my projects – both on the same day, which was brilliant! I returned on the last day of the trip to try the third but the conditions weren’t so go and the crux was totally desperate, so I’ll get back on that one again.

Alan James is finishing the Provence guidebook as I type, and it should be out before the end of the year. It will look a bit like this:

Please buy one!

July 17th, 2009

I’ve been back from France for a week now. It was an exceedingly productive trip in that I finished my research for Ceuse, Volx, Sisteron, and Orpierre. I got a few action shots to finish off some pages too. The flip-side of the trip was hardly doing any climbing! Walking up to Ceuse day after day is pretty rough, but when you’re not going to be climbing when you get there is pretty hard. I did get some routes done, and they were all incredible, but it would have been nice to have tried a lot more!  I was joined for the first couple of days by Belgian super star in the making Robin Poelmans. He’d onsighted 8b but couldn’t seem to get psyched for the 6cs and 7as I was doing, falling off them more that I might have expected. However a couple of days later he onsighted 8b+, which I was impressed by – a lot of people would have probably not have even got on an 8b+ after falling off 6c, which just goes to show that yesterday’s defeats are not today’s limitations.

Nicolas Le Baut climbing at Sisteron

The greatest frustration of the trip was not walking up to Ceuse and not climbing, though that came close, no the biggest pain was trying to work out the lines at Sisteron. The guidebook to the area is so bad that I really struggled to make sense of it. Only when cross-referencing the lines with Bill Birkett’s French Rock did it start to reveal itself.

Orpierre took about a week to re-photograph (I’d mistakenly taken the first photos in medium res – oops) and sort out the lines. I didn’t climb at all at Orpierre, which was a shame, but I wouldn’t have made a very good climbing partner as most of the time I was sorting out where various routes go. Fortunately Ian Fenton, who lives out in Orpierre much of the year is going to lend a hand to this section.

A rainbow at Ceuse - the only day I carried my camera up to the crag

Volx was a relatively easy day, just sitting in the scorching sun and working out where the lines all go – binoculars are my number one purchase of the year. From there I headed out to Buoux to take a shot of someone on TCF but no-one was there – unsurprisingly as it was about 37 degrees in the shade. I then went to St.Leger and photographed the North Face, I had not been to the area in the summer before, so not appreciated how important the north-facing crags are.  I got there at about 9am to get perfect morning light on the rock.

The North Face of St.Leger in summer morning light

Then it was straight into the van and driving back to London. Leaving St.Leger at about 9.30am I got back to London at 3am after changin my ferry ticket from the following morning. A good tip I discovered for driving long distances is to play movies on my laptop and try and imagine the image – it helps if there’s lots of dialogue and I know the film quite well. Being John Malcovitch was a hoot.
Since being back I’ve split my time between some training at The Castle, more DIY, and sorting out my coaching schedule fo the remainder of the summer – I’m going to be very very busy next month! I’ve also made a decision to stay in the UK this summer and go on a bit of a road trip, taking in the South West, South Wales, and Snowdonia. I’m looking forward to giving Mark Glaister’s new guidebook a test-drive!

June 8th, 2009

I can’t believe it’s been nearly four months since I last posted an update here.  My last trip to France researching the Rockfax guidebook I’m producing  and writing is close to 90% complete now. I met up with most of the Rockfax team in Mallorca in April, so it was good to show everyone the progress, and to see progress on others’ project such as Mark Glaister’s South West and South Wales books in progress  -  both of which look pretty fabulous.

Much of the summer has been spent so far coaching up in the Peak District, I’ve has some brilliant days out on the rock with clients, many of whom have put in some big efforts to move up a grade or two then been gracious enough to offer me some of the credit! When I’ve not been coaching in the Peak, I’ve been working though some quite arduous DIY jobs – such as replacing a floor. These jobs have given me back muscles upon back muscles but I think I may find my finger strength rather lacking next time I go sport climbing!

On the subject of sport climbing, I’m going to be heading down to France in a week to finish off this guidebook. I’ll be there for a few weeks, so if you’re about then do drop me a note!

Before the summer ends I’m hoping to finish off a couple of new routes on Rams Tor – I cleaned a couple of lines, but have yet to bolt them. The last time I was there I was all kitted up on my ropes at the top of the line, ready to go over the edge, when I realised that I’d forgotten my drill bit. As it happened I had to spend hours cleaning loose rock from it anyway, so bolts can wait. At least it wasn’t as bad as walking for three hours to get to the top of Afternoon sector in Kalymnos with 120m of rope, drill, bolts, etc. only to realise I’d forgotten my harness. I can testify that 100m abseils in a 10mm dyneema sling harness is not much fun. On the subject of Kalymnos, I’m planning on being back out there in October, where I’ll be offering 1:1 coaching and maybe bolting a few last great lines – I’m hoping there will be a few still left!

February 26th, 2009

I was recently in the South of France working on a selective guidebooks to the sport climbing in the area. There has been a lot debate taking place on the rights and wrongs of guidebooks that are not produced by local climbers. Debate is always healthy, but many of the arguments against books such as the one I am working on are ill-informed, and fail to take in the wider picture. Unlike Alan James and Mick Ryan, I’ve not bravely engaged in the forum discussions. Instead, I’m going to try and answer the criticism one by one and you can make up your own mind.

>> Photo:Me on Flashdance (7a+) Lou Passo, Buis-les-Baronnies, France. Photo by Phil Vickers.

Argument 1: Outsider guidebooks damage access.

Obviously an important issue, so I’m happy to look at this first. Knowing where you can and cannot climb requires information that is up-to-date. It really doesn’t matter where that information comes from, so long as it makes it way to the heads of those intending to visit. While it is possible that a more popular guidebook may exclude access information, that is not the policy of Rockfax books. Who in their right mind would spend the time producing a guidebook to an area that was likely to be banned? There are a number of crags where climbing happens, but is not allowed, I’m not putting them in this book despite them being suggested to me. A guide that is better produced, more widely available and in a language that almost all visitors are likely to understand will be updated more often than a locally produced topo, as such it will be a more effective way of communicating access issues than will local topos. Of course, a sign at the parking area of the crag would also work.

Argument 2: Rockfax guidebooks take money away from local topo sales that fund bolting.

Firstly, I am a keen bolter myself. I’ve bolted sectors in Kalymnos and in Wales with bolts paid for with my own cash. I don’t expect to get proceeds from the sales of the Kalymnos guide to pay for my efforts! I climb because I love it. I bolt because I like to produce something that others will enjoy. If I were to take contributions from climbers via guidebooks sales, then I would be under a moral obligation to bolt routes that they will be able to climb - and I want to bolt whatever takes my fancy.

Now let’s look at the money. At the moment, the vendors of local topos are getting nothing from climbers who don’t even know about the area. Surely better to get some money from the climbers who are brought in by another guide? I’m not saying that every person will choose to buy the local topo, but if even one person in a hundred does, it’s better to have 1% of something than 100% of nothing. And is it really reasonable to expect visitors casually travelling from crag to crag to contribute the same amount toward the bolting of an area as local climbers who climb there all their lives? Hardly, especially when you consider that most climbers from the UK are for the most part looking to climb routes in the 5s and low 6s whereas most new areas being developed are in the upper grades.

Selling topos is just one way of raising money for a good cause. Local businesses benefit hugely from guidebooks bringing in climbers from afar, ask them for help. Local clubs have far more vested interest in having their local areas developed and maintained, a fund-raising Christmas dinner could raise money easily. Heck, you could even sell the Rockfax guidebooks and use the profits from that the pay for bolts, it really doesn’t matter where the money comes from, just don’t rely on the proceeds from topos.

Here’s another way of looking at it. If you buy a Rockfax guidebook and go on a climbing holiday. The amount of money the author of that guidebooks gets from your group is probably less than the spare change tip you give to the waiter in the local restaurant on your last night. It is from the pocket of the author that any charitable contribution is taken. Are those offering more profitable services such as local accommodation not in a better financial position to contribute towards bolting?

Finally, the book I am working on will be entirely in English, and I doubt it will even be sold in France, so it’s hardly going to be competing with local topos.

Argument 3: Local topos are perfectly fine.

No, they are not. They are, in general, hard to find, over-priced, restricted to small areas, amateurish, and often plain lazy. Take a look at the Céüse guide, the best crag in the world some say, not one route has more said of it than a grade and a dotted line on a vague graphical representation of the crag, an over-priced lazy piece of work that owes its existence to the fact that there is no other guide, it’s an insult to the crag and those who love it. And you can’t even buy it on Amazon.fr. I’m not singling out the guide to Céüse, it is one of the better ones. The free market has winners and losers, the reason it is the dominant economic model for the world is that we are all far more winners in the free market than we are losers.

Argument 4: Rockfax guidebooks plagiarise local topos.

That would be flattery. The only information reproduced from (numerous) local sources are the route names and grades, which are originally provided by the first ascentionists. Lists of routes are not protected by copyright law any more than the places on a map, or entries in a phone book. Copyright law affords protection to ‘original’ works as a means to protecting creative products. While there are no legal precedents for cases specifically regarding climbing guidebook information, a very similar situation of a telephone directory consisting of names and numbers in a natural order has been found not to be protected by copyright law by the US Supreme Court in 1991 in the case of Feist Publications v. Rural Telephone Service, in the words of the court: “It is not enough for copyright purposes that an author collects and assembles facts”. All copyright law is based on international convention and so the decisions on one country are very likely to be followed in others. Anyone attempting to sue for copyright infringement due to the act of reproducing route names and grades is sure to lose a lot of money on an utterly hopeless case.

Legal arguments aside, a huge amount of work goes into checking routes and grades, approach descriptions and maps, new photos are taken and grades are checked for consistency, and then all that needs to be turned into a book. A surprising amound of work goes into correcting the errors in local guidebooks.

Talk of Rockfax guidebooks ‘stealing’ from locals is an outrageously statement. An outsider guidebook raises greatly the number of visitors to an area, visitors who need somewhere to stay, something to eat, entertainement on a rest day, they pay airport taxes, road tolls, they buy gear from local climbing shops when they need it. Without guidebooks such as Rockfax, many of these visitors simply won’t know about the areas. To support a monopoly for local guidebook producers benefits the very few at the expense of the very many.

Argument 5: Rockfax guidebooks bring too many people in to areas.

The problem is that there are so few good guidebooks to European sport climbing areas, it’s no wonder that certain places are packed with people, where other areas are under-utilised. I was at Buoux last year and found a large group of climbers operating in the 5s and low 6s. There wasn’t a huge amount for them to go at, while an hour away were empty crags filled with routes in that grade range. Having good quality guidebooks to all the crags will serve to distribute people more evenly, taking the strain off over-used areas.

Furthermore, when climbers come for a climbing trip, they generally take a week off. Most accommodation rents from Saturday to Saturday, so apart from the ‘take it easy’ first day, one-week visitors aren’t even visible at the crags on the weekends when the locals are out becuase they are travelling to or from the area.

Argument 6:Rockfax guidebooks should contribute to local bolting efforts.

Firstly, the proceeds of a guidebook are not that great. Those of us who do it, don’t do it because we want to get rich, I’ve produced three books in four years, and I doubt that the proceeds I’ve received to date have even paid for my camera. There simply isn’t the money in guidebook proceeds to make a meaningful contribution to the bolt funds unless the guide is very cheaply produced, and covers a very small area (meaning you needs to buy lots of them). To get topo guidebooks to all the best areas in the South of France would cost literally hundreds of Euros, would you buy a selective guidebook if it cost more than your rack? Furthermore, who would administer this fund and on what grounds is money allocated? It would be completely impossible to check that money was being wisely spent, and would those placing the bolts want to be paid for their time? If such a fund existed then we would be one step closer to being able to make a charitable contribution to re-bolting areas, but would other manufacturers whose businesses also depend on access to crags similarly contribute?

To conclude, I don’t wish to paint a picture that all local climbers are against this guidebook - One day I was out at the crag, and was approached by a visiting French climber, curious as to what I was taking photos of the crag for, when I sheepishly informed him I was producing a guidebook, he asked me if it was a Rockfax, I said it was and he shook my hand and told me it was about time. I agree.

February 9th, 2009

 Apart from swanning around the Caribbean, 2009 has started in a fairly similar way to 2008, with a drive down to Switzerland. I once again headed to Gryon to stay for a few nights at the Hostel run by Matt Tomlin. I was keen to try out all my shiny new ice climbing gear, notably a pair of all-too-clean La Sportiva EVOs with DMM Predators, and a pair of used Black Diamond Reactors.

<< The view from the Gryon Hostel

Matt had taken me out ice climbing the previous year, and this time I was looking forward to having shoes that fit.Our forray onto the ice didn’t get off to a great start, the first ice fall we got to had melted in the previous few days, so we went exploring an area that Matt had been told about, but had no info on. Driving around we spied an impressive ice fall and made our way to it not sure what to expect. When we finally got the the base, it was clearly not in the best of condition, the first pitch was quite wet. I had made a deal with myself that I wasn’t going to do anything silly on the ice, and that I was going to back off if something wasn’t safe. However, it didn’t look dangerous, so I headed on up and apart from one section where the river was flowing below me, separated by only a few centimeters of ice, it was fine up to a section where I had to leave the ice fall to get to a belay on a tree. I found myself on rock and frozen soil with just a layer of snow over it. I had hoped there’d be some ice there. At one point my crampons started to slide down snow-covered rock and I was sure I was going to take a fall, there was only one thing to do, I brought an axe up and slammed it in as hard as I could, hoping to avoid rock. It stuck, fortunately, though I don’t know whether I hit frozen mud, or whether I hit rock and was swinging with such desperation as to stick to it.

Matt lead the next pitch, and brought me up to the base of another, intimidating pitch. I knew Matt was planning to get back to his work in the afternoon and I played that card but he was having none of it, so off I went. I must have taken about an hour to do maybe twenty metres of fairly steep, complex ice, but did it. Matt said he reckoned it was a grade four.

>> Me, climbing the second pitch of Geronimo

The following day I drove down to Geneva where I picked up Audrey. We headed down to the Écrins where we had arranged to rent an apartment for a week from Jerry Gore at Alpbase.com. Conditions were a lot better, though still a bit too warm for comfort. We started off with Easy Rider (WI 3) at Ceillac, we went to look at Vermicelle (WI 5+) but it had fallen down. A couple of days later we returned to the crag to do Les Formes du Chaos (WI4), which was a great route, though incredibly busy and we hardly had to swing the axes at all! We finished off the trip by doing Geromino (supposedly a WI5 but felt a lot easier than even grade 4s I’ve done) at Freissinieres. We also had a day on some snowboards that proved Audrey is good at pretty-much everything and that I still can’t snowboard.

I’m in the south of France now, working on this guidebook that had got a few people’s knickers in a twist. I’ll have some more to say about that in another post.

December 8th 2008

 A little over a week ago I was packing two bags for two different trips. One was an ice climbing trip to the Écrins that I’ll be leaving for in one week’s time, the other a sailing trip around the British Virgin Islands. I made extra sure to take the right bag less I’d end up in Antigua with a holdall filled with ice gear and no shorts.

Adrian kite-boarding. That’s the other Adrian, not me. I was taking the picture.

I’d neve been sailing before, and my experiences in boats have not been exclusively positive, a stomach-sharing stormy crossing to Lundy from Swansea burnt a particularly strong memory in my mind. For this reason I wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea of living on a boat for a week. I needn’t have worried however as it was a great experience, and I wasn’t sea-sick even once, though I’m not sure I owed my sea legs to the drugs I was taking or the desire not to look a fool in front of everyone else. The ‘everyone else’ consisted of the family of my girlfriend, and they did all the hard work. They impressed me immensely by demonstrating that you can have a four captains at two steering wheels speaking two languages all at the same time and still not sink. I was allowed to steer for a bit, though I think the auto-pilot was on, and I was a little suspicious that the steering wheel I commanded was pink, plastic and attached to the boat via a small suction cup. It did have a horn in the middle though. And indicators.


Audrey windsurfing.

I didn’t take my climbing shoes, and there would have only been one place with rocks worth exploring anyway. For any climber heading out that way who happens to have happened upon these words, I can honestly say The Baths on Virgin Gorda are worth a look at, though I wouldn’t head there just to climb. Here’s a photo:

The Baths at Virgin Gorda: you could probably climb here.
I’d rather race sea turtles.

The best part, for me, was trying to spot as many exotic creatures as possible. Under the water one of the first things I saw was a huge ray, calmly flying escorted by a sucker fish. Spotting enormous sea-turtles was always a treat, and the colour and variety of other fish made me feel like I was swimming around an aquarium. The only other places I’ve been snorkeling are Thailand and Kalymnos, and really, they don’t even come close. Above the land it was great to watch the pelicans diving in to get a mouth full of fish, the giant iguanas basking in the sun, and the slightly out-of-place groups of ageing home sapiens trying to get off a dingy at the beach when the waves were crashing.

The week went quickly, and soon I was back on land, feeling slightly queasy due to the fact that the world doesn’t rock from side to side in quite the way I had become accustomed. Then it was to the air where we got the world’s most chilled-out safety briefing from the Caribbean’s Favourite airline, Liat. Liat, where the seats aren’t reclined so much as ‘laid-back’. Enjoy da view.

A wonderful bird is the pelican,
His bill will hold more than his belican.
He can take in his beak
Food enough for a week,
But I’m damned if I see how the helican.

Dixon Lanier Merritt

Oh and if you could all go and buy some of my books (Winter Climbing+ Trad Climbing+ and Sport Climbing+ it would be much appreciated as I’ve run out of money and it’s not as though I have an extravagant lifestyle of anything. Cheers.

January 1st, 2009

New year’s day seems to be a good point to do a bit of blogging, so here we go.

In the early 1990s I set about developing a crag not far from Swansea. It was, and indeed still is, a neat little collection of stepped roofs with a steep slab at the top. I did eight new routes on it, but they were never very popular. Its unpopularity was nothing to do with the quality of the rock, but rather the protection of the routes. It was early days in the development of bolting in South Wales, and so I was under pressure not to bolt where routes could be protected by trad gear. Also, I didn’t have much in the way of money to cover the crag with bolts, and to be honest the money consideration was of more importance than the ethical one. I harbour tall-masted suspicions that many ethical stances owe more to impecuniousness than moral fibre, but that’s a moot point.

John Bullock and Simonal Rawlinson ponder the mission at Rams Tor. The gently sloping waters that surround the Gower peninsular are popular with novice water-skiers. Photo by Liz Collyer.

I got in touch with some locals, namely Alan Rosier and Chris Wyatt, and was delighted to discover that the South Wales Mountaineering Club would stump up some cash to buy bolts and glue. Emails circulated thanks to the local guru of bolting, Roy Thomas, and soon a number of people volunteered to show-up and help with the sizeable task of rebolting the entire crag.

In the week before Christmas I headed to the crag, and began the job of removing the old bolts. I was pleased to see that the stainless through bolts that had been added more recently were in good condition, even the ones that get splashed by the sea. The other bolts fared better than I had anticipated, the 10mm Petzl ‘self-drill’ bolts were in reasonable condition, though there were signs of rust, so they would be replaced. I was more surprised to see the 8mm RAWL bolts I placed were not that corroded, I had covered all the bolts I placed with Plastic Padding ‘Chemical Metal’ so as to deter anyone from stealing the bolts, and this seems to have made a big difference to how long they lasted. A couple of bolts did sheer when I tried to remove them, but most came out with just a bit of effort. The only bolts that were seriously dangerous were the ones with aluminium hangers, so worth making a mental note about that.

Adrian Gluing in bolts at Rams Tor
>> Yours truly, gluing in a belay at the top of Rams Tor. Photo by Liz Collyer.

The following day everyone showed up, Roy Thomas and John Bullock brought their drills, bringing the drill count up to three. There were seven people at the crag in total, and the weather held off enough to rebolt/retrobolt seven routes. With fifty bolts eagerly awaiting being stuck into the rock, we made sure that all the routes would be pure sport routes. We also added a direct start to a route I had done on trad gear called ‘Captain Hook’ the start would need a point of aid to get to the first decent holds, but after that it could be climbed at about 6c+. I returned a couple of days later to finish the job by placing the last nine bolts. I also cleaned off a line on the as-yet untouched left hand end of the crag – and am looking forward to climbing it later in the year.

A couple of days after Christmas I went to the crag and reclimbed a few of the routes that had been affected by storms removing holds, and was pleased that they could still be climbed, if maybe half a grade harder than they had been. It was good to see some of the routes getting climbed already: Chris Wyatt had a go on the newly-added direct to Captain Hook called Renaissance (6c+), and I even bumped into Dan Dyson, the person who got me into climbing way back in the late 80s.

So, a pretty good end to the year – though it was also nice to get Steve Mac’s 8a at The Castle done on the last day of the year. Hope it wasn’t a fluke…

Happy new year!

Topo at http://www.rockfax.com/publications/miniguides/item.php?id=158

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