OFF THE WALL

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Progress

2 years ago I was careering happily up ‘Mucky Gully’ at The Dewerstone steadfastly ignoring the most obvious gear placements in the southwest and ineffectually trying to work out which way up the ropes should go. The route took me and the other 2 novices about 2 hours to do and it was a milestone. The previous year I had my first lead on a foggy Sheeps Tor. Dartmoor seems to be a place of milestones – this weekend I led a classic three star HS route: the two pitch ‘Central Groove’. A slow journey perhaps, but perfectly timed.

I’m not a list ticker but CG had fallen from the lips of a good few. I’d been a second on it last year and I could see how it could be part of my progress up the grades – loads of gear, nice bit of exposure to deal with and climbing to make me think hard but not out of my comfort zone.

When Baz and I got to the Dewerstone I flirted with the route at first – I looked at it out of the corner of my eye and pretended to ignore it. I climbed a couple of easier routes to ‘warm up’ and then sat under its gaze for lunch. ‘You going to do it?’ asked Baz. I made a noise that could mean yes or no. A couple of blokes nearby started to gear up and I seized on the rumour they were going to do my route. ‘Oh well. I can do it another day’....but no, they went and started on ‘Leviathan’ instead. ‘Ok’ I said lightly, feeling the fear rising. ‘I’ll gear up’.

It was only when I was touching the rock that I looked it directly in the eye. The bottom section was still in the dappled shade but the new bolt pinning the midway block was shining in the sun. ‘It feels a bit greasy’. ‘Do you want chalk?’ My chalk free principles were disregarded as superstition took over – if I didn’t have it I’d regret it. ‘Have you got the right shoes?’ These weren’t words I wanted to hear: ‘You’ll cream it’, would be my chosen ones. I couldn’t stand the tension any more so I started, feeling like I had to get an unpleasant task over with.

Time then changed its shape as I became entirely focussed on the moment. The waterfall of decision-making started – when and where to place the gear, what, which way, what length quick draw, what colour rope...never mind the climbing.

At first I forgot to breathe but when I was up above the messy groove and well established in the sunny corner the disco-leg stopped and I started to relax and enjoy it. The traverse across the strange black tiles wasn’t scary but soothing. I swung around the corner up over the now solid block and made a belay above it. Belaying Baz up, I congratulated myself on avoiding the gear indecision trap - the ‘putting in and taking out and turning round before putting back on the harness waste of time and energy’ scenario. I also realised that it was this level of climbing that makes me really understand the need for gear – good gear.

So far so good. And I accepted the challenge of the last crux pitch...which is when it went a bit wrong – Route-finding ineptitude again. I went off around the corner. I’d been here last year. I should remember what to do. I was looking for a sentry box. ‘There are two sentry boxes’, I called out. ‘I can’t help you as I can’t see what you’re looking at’, came the reasonable response. I stared at the rock angrily, trying to make it confess. It kept quiet. So I gave in and whipped up an instant solid belay (when you have to do something you find you can), and brought up the man who knew.
The last pitch didn’t look friendly – a crack running between a fairly featureless corner – but the adrenaline was still flowing. It took 4 pieces of gear within a metre to make me feel happy and I wasn’t an elegant sight. But I did it.

2 years may seem a long time but I was ready on Friday for it. I had the strength and ability to do it comfortably- there was only my head to deal with. Any earlier in my climbing career and I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of its airy traverse, just an armpit full of sweat, which would have stopped all flirtation.

Posted by fishinwater