Lakes instructing

I drove down to Halton Training Camp and got there just after 1730. After a long day, weekend in fact, I met the guys on the courses and then went to bed.

White Ghyll Crag

I met up with Chris after had driven down from Scotland earlier that morning. We met in the New Dungeon Ghyll carpark, then set off up the hill towards White Ghyll crag. The morning was cold. A thin film of mist hugged the ground of Great Langdale. The scrammble to the crag took only half an hour. But the time took longer. Upon breaking through the mist, we gazed out across the glaciated Langdale valley The temperature invertion, glazed in the deep reds and oranges of an Autumn sunrise stopped us in our ascent to the crag. We took the time to take in the view, take off a layer, and then to continue on our way.

Port on the roof of England



Scafell Pike Summit

I left home on the friday night and accepted the long drive to the Lake District. My destination: Wasdale Head. I arrived at 03:30am on the Saturday morning after many hours of tedious, twisting lanes of the Lakes. I parked up in a layby, put down the passenger seat, pulled out my duvet and soon after, I was gone to the world...

Cheddar Climbing

Abit of a late post, but hey.

So after arranging to climb with Chris on the Sunday, we headed to Avon Gorge...only to find that the gorge was shut due to rock safety checks. So my Avon climbing experience will have to wait for another day. Instead we headed to Cheddar for some Autumn sport climbing.

Fall falls and man love

Chris on 'Outward bound' HVS 4c

A posting on the Taunton climbers facebook page was all it took to begin, what was quite possibly, one of my best cragging days. The cold October morning started with a gathering of four adventurous climbers in a Taunton car park, with the joint decision that Chudleigh will be our desired destination. However, upon arrival, the crag was still running with water from the previous days rain. Wet limestone + polished limestone = No climbing. So we took off and headed for the moorland crags of Haytor, with the hope that Mr Sunshine and Mrs Wind would have dried the crag. Thankfully, they had....well, the south faces anyway.

Like a Bullock in a china shop

"Sometimes I think of the mountains as a brutal place and I can't be the only one who feels that way. Yet mountains are not brutal. Death and injury, trauma and distress do occur there. Being in the wrong place at the wrong time can cost you. Sometimes it's because of a mistake, a wrong decision, or just bad luck. Sometimes ego and ambition get in the way. Accidents happen. But a mountain has no soul. It's never the fault of the mountains."

LOST: Virginity

A swift phone call to my climbing partner, Mark Stevenson on Friday night ended with the destination set: Swanage. I've never climbed on sea cliffs before, so naturally, I was a little nervous. I'd become so attached to the shy little quarry of Fairy Cave, knowing what i was and wasn't capable of climbing, I was worried that the sea cliffs of Swanage would dissolve my ego, built by the many slab routes of the quiet, tranquil quarry, and watch as they wash away into the English channel...