OFF THE WALL

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Family Fun

It’s rare to find offspring who will throw themselves willingly into anything their parents like. We (I’ll come clean – I’m a parent), can delude ourselves, but the reality is that too much enthusiasm is off-putting – especially when it’s around anyone with a ‘teen’ in their age.

I have a teenager and this weekend at Bosigran I was guilty of over-enthusiasm – a dangerous thing – which almost ruined the possibility of anything even resembling a shared interest with my son. I’ve tried not to be pushy – just extended an infrequent and casual invitation. Sometimes it’s taken up and sometimes rejected out of hand. The amount of slaughter to perpetrate on ‘Halo’ is much more important than a mother’s strange involvement with the outdoors and high places.

I still hold the unspoken and stupid belief that one day ‘he’ll love it; it will change his life’. Parental ambition is insidious. And his ability to second an HVS this summer raised my misguided hopes. It also brought to my attention his fine command of the English expletive, and it brought to his attention the possibility of enjoying the challenge of this weird sport.

A sunny day on the Cornish coast couldn’t be unappreciated could it? He appreciated the sunshine (on his back on a slab, with eyes closed, plugged into his music) but he didn’t appreciate ‘Ledge Climb’ one bit. The route book describes this V Diff as ‘a pleasant climb’. We did it as a 3, with me climbing just behind him to help him though any problems.
Apparently chimney climbing isn’t his thing – something we both discovered at the start of the second pitch, where escaping wasn’t really an option. ‘I can’t do it’, said the teenager, without a trace of doubt in his voice. I looked up at the belayer above us and grimaced. I wished our roles were reversed; teenagers respond so much better to people who aren’t related to them. I racked my brains for inspiration (why is there never an instruction book for these situations?) What could I say except ‘You have to’? – Exactly what not to say to a teenager. So I said it and it made no difference at all to his expression of fear, hatred and bloody-mindedness. I tried a different tack: ‘You’ll be fine. It’s easy’ – in full knowledge it wasn’t. He still didn’t move. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I grasped for anything ... ‘If you get up there I’ll get you a bottle of cider’. This underage teenage carrot may have worked a bit because he stood up and went for it...not happily -The sound of his desperation was loud enough for other climbers to look at me with disapproval. Together again at the top, the parental guilt went into overdrive and I begged his forgiveness for ruining his life.

Later that evening, watching the pyrotechnic sunset taking place over the sea, I reviewed the situation for the next day. I had a novice with me and now a scared novice. If I was to be able to share the passion with him in the future a gentle day’s climbing was needed.

The next morning found us in sunshine again and on ‘In Between’ (V Diff). To keep mother and son apart he was guided by an objective third party. Although part of me wanted to be playing around on more challenging routes, I concentrated on the unseasonal warm sunshine, the turquoise sea and the fact I was spending a little bit of time doing something I love with someone I love. I recognised and appreciated the rarity of the moment.

By the end of the day he didn’t hate me as much and his confidence was mostly restored (I think. His confidence in my parenting skills was further reduced by the fact I reneged on my alcohol bribe – but then again I didn’t promise did I?) He may come out to play again – I hope so. But I won’t rely on it.

Posted by fishinwater

Starry Climbing

Lundy: a mystery to some, a treasure trove to others. ‘It’s an island in Scotland isn’t it?’ hazarded a non-climber, obviously trying to humour me. Explaining that it’s a small piece of land at the mouth of the Bristol Channel makes it sound tame. But Trad climbers know better: its ‘fuck off’ granite cliffs hold a wealth of classy routes in surroundings as bleakly beautiful as any Scottish Glen.

The end of September usually catches good weather – and the four day trip this year was no exception: sunny and dry, along with fine accommodation and no Lundy Lurgi. Inspiring, and the ideal place to make the most of lessons learnt this summer in route selection and route-finding.

Lessons learnt: to be more discerning with the routes, and at all costs, avoid getting lost. Guide books and vicarious previous experience are to be used to the full.

I’ve eventually realised that to avoid that ‘under/over-graded’ whine, and accompanying polish, un-protectedness or general crappiness, I just need to climb starred routes (I’m not so sure why it took so long). Apparently those pretty icons in the guide books aren’t just there as decoration or a mere review- they’re a guarantee of interesting climbing and they do what they say on the tin: A Severe will be what is expected of a Severe...etc. So when I chose the 3 starred HS climb ‘Integrity’ on Needle Stack I expected a generous amount of placements and a memorable lead. And it was all good, very good. I purred up it putting my ‘Christmas Curry’ skirmish well behind me.

Before I started I’d carefully picked the brains of someone who’d done the climb before, running through the exact route, and, to add to the general feeling of determination that this wasn’t going to go wrong, he stood at the bottom of the wind-swept crag and like a conductor pointed at important moments on the route. Determination is a good thing in climbing.

Another day and another route - and this time I chose the two starred Walrus (S) on Seal Slab: a big hunk of slab hanging over a yawning zawn. I’d already been warned that route-finding was a problem...and my solution was to send someone knowledgeable up the first pitch from where the route was blindingly obvious to follow. The high level of exposure was softened by handfuls of gear and the confidence that this was definitely a Severe and well within my comfort zone.

So far so good...It didn’t all go wrong again, but it was a near miss. I put the first piece of gear in a starred V Diff and looked at the blank corner. I knew I could do the moves but something stirred in the fear memory of my mind – why was there no obvious gear? I stared and stared at it, weighing it up, remembering.... and then backed off it. The other two accomplices and I stared at it and the surrounding rock hard for some time and declared the guide book unhelpful, in fact positively annoying. The wise-one took over and set off on a different line and found himself on something akin to a VS - a graceful traverse on thin holds up and over a zawn with clichéd waves crashing below. Not a V Diff then – in fact we never found it.

Learning to curb my enthusiasm and recognise the basic essentials of grading has bought the fun back. My climbing ability has excused too many unpleasant routes this year – I’d be much better off at least choosing quality hard rather than crappy low grades.

And the ability to say ‘no thanks’ is useful too - which is harder to do than I thought it would be.

Posted by fishinwater