Landscape

During research on landscape values in the Peak District, I came across this little gem by the Council for the Preservation of Rural England (CPRE): a film produced in 1938 entitled 'Rural England'. It goes well with a cup of coffee.

Aside from the archaic language and politics - 'spasmodic building' - aren't we thinking the same ideas today?

Hooked: Scottish Winter

View of the Ben, Feb 2011

   


With a coating of powder and lots of freezing, the climbing landscape in Scotland can evolve into an ugly and challenging place. The risks may be greater when climbing: feeling run out on a couple of poorly bedded ice screws, if you fall your picks and spikes may rip through your waterproofs. This will hurt. Climbing can be slow and arduous, as my recent experience following Matt and Joe on Castle Ridge pointed out. 

But the biggest risks surpass the immediate pitch, when external forces come into play. Avalanche. Weather. Foresight and good judgement are needed in the winter climber's arsenal. The extreme cold may prove a problem for the belayer freezing their tits off, or for the climber whose hot aches burn like buggery. The low temperatures demand a methodical approach to fuelling yourself and changing layers between pitches.

For me, the brutality of winter climbing is overshadowed by the beauty of a discipline with more adventure than Ueli Steck on steroids. It has history and ethics to the sport which need respect. This kind of mountaineering is far removed from the monotony of plastic holds on a straight-line route at the indoor wall. On these routes, decisions are taken. Errors are made. The shit gets serious.

My debut on Scottish winter came in December last, taking our luck on Castle Ridge (III), Ben Nevis. With mixed forecasts and far from perfect conditions, I had low expectations of the day, unsure about our chance of success and needing more psych really after a couple of hours sleep then hitting the road for Fort Bill. Maybe I was doubting my own ability more: a lack of experience and desperately wanting technical axes. I had put in the physical training, scrubbed up on winter reading and got some practice with tools at the Leeds Wall, so why not make a go of it?

Coatings of sheet ice at the North Face Car Park and along the track that follows would be the first obstacle, stacking it onto the ice several times, then sheepishly standing up and regaining composure as amateur mountaineers would. 

Castle Ridge offers pleasant winter scrambling interspersed with steeper sections that warrant a grade III label. Seconding Paul for all but one pitch, I was thankful for Matt and Joe breaking trail ahead of us. Dumpings of soft powder were making it difficult to place protection and get a purchase on the rock or in the snow pack. Joe was our snow plough for the day.

On Castle Ridge

  
At the crux pitch, I was baptised into Scottish winter climbing. There was no font, no religious words said, but bouts of swearing as I heaved on dodgy axe placements. The pitch involved a verticle rock step of a few metres, with desperate pulling and body tension to keep hands and feet in the right place with directional pull. The winter climbing style as a form of movement isn't natural - tools and crampons pushing you away from the rock, making the climb feel steeper and ultimately like hard work. But it's the most epic fun you'll ever have in the Scottish mountains.

Our climb finished in classic style with a descent in the dark and a hot meal at the bunkhouse. Thank you to the guys for a good day out. 

Links
Ben Nevis winter routes
BMC Winter climbing conservation tips
UKC Winter conditions
Scotland Avalanche Information Service 
Gresham and Parnell's Winter Climbing+ book

Not the most psych-laden video I've seen, but it gets you in the mood:

  













Happy climbing

New Year, New Baktun

This webpage began six months ago, a summer project for me whilst I had my nose to the grindstone. 9-5 Office work. Blurgh. I backdated some writing so that it made the blog look more established...
 
It's still a bit basic, and given more time I'd edit the HTML code more and make the blog a whole lot funkier. But it does what it says on the tin, I think.

Now with more than 1,100 page views, I hope that all you surfers have had something good to read or look at. If not, feel free to send abusive complaints.

Now we've survived the Mayan apocalypse ...(it's worth noting that the Mayan civilisation never actually predicted the end of the world for 2012, but the end of a period of time, a baktun, as a recent article in the Observer pointed out to me)

What are your dreams for the new dawn of time? 

Some things in life are worth chasing - I'd like to run my first ultramarathon this year (no less than 50 miles). And climb more, climb harder. But then sometimes it's better to just be happy.

Action for Happiness 

Here's something else to brighten your day, a video of travelling in NZ made by a friend of mine:

 

Midnight Run

Running late at night has huge appeal for me in Warwickshire. The roads are deadly silent, except for the distant hum of a car on roads a mile or so away. Rabbits and owls make themselves known but otherwise it's just me and the light pounce of my feet on tarmac. My headtorch beams up the lane and the place is there for exploring.

Route map
Walton Hall Circuit
5.5 miles in 37 minutes
 

















Example's video to Midnight Run was shot in .... You guessed it! ICELAND!

Feast Your Eyes On This

There's something circulating the interweb that is bold, crisp and brilliant. Mount Everest in 2 billion pixels. Be inspired









Click here for GlacierWorks

Tri, Tri and Tri Again

“One sport is not enough.”

 

It’s a compelling mantra by Triathlon Plus magazine, and it’s an idea embedded in the minds of triathletes who seek the ultimate endurance competition. I shied away from the demands of the sport for many years as a poor swimmer - growing up watching my two sisters glide up and the down the lanes of our local lido while I thrashed around, getting nowhere. I was an impatient kid that sought thrills, not the chlorine-soaked verruca-encrusted poolside. Ten years later and I fell into the sport again by accident.

 Swimming in the spring of 2012 was an activity designed purely to compliment other sports: a cure for shin splints, for recovery and flexibility in climbing, to cross-train for running and cycling. So I never anticipated it would become a sport for me in its own right.

zimbio.com

 The summer brought a jewel box of sporting history, with all the hype and glamour you could ask for. From an office in Warwick, I watched as Alistair Brownlee finished the Olympic Men’s Triathlon in 1^st place, taking the Gold medal that he duly deserved with Jonathon not far behind, a brilliant moment. Yorkshire lads too, I was rooting for the home boys and it’s hard to deny the Brownlee effect, giving the sport a popular face (or two) and a great media story. Sport England recently increased the funding for triathlon by 30% for youngsters and it’s no wonder why (BBC News). 

Yet my imagination was really taken by open water swimming. The call for ripping up coastal waters around the UK still abounds in me but experience and training has to come first. In October this year I enlisted the help of a swim coach to learn freestyle technique, the first step on a path I hoped to becoming a wildswimmer and triathlete. What came next was hard, gruelling even, and I’ve never had such a mental challenge trying to feel comfortable in the water. 

Each coaching session raped my cardio-vascular system for all it was worth. My lungs screamed for air and my mind logically said bring my head above the surface. Forcing myself to push on and attempt another length was difficult. It's a wonder that I survived nine months swimming in amniotic fluid before birth. Practising freestyle by myself in the mornings before uni, the experience was at times miserable if not a little stressful, full of negativity like, “I’m just not a swimmer. It's probably time to give up.” Why take up a sport that you don’t enjoy and you’re no good at?

Because life will throw up the same challenge eventually, and we all make choices whether to turn back for the comfort of mediocrity or to stand our ground. 

The Brownlee effect remained still, and I was researching a story for the Leeds Student on their upcoming race in Auckland (heavy editorial bias), which meant I had my finger on the pulse of elite tri competition. I kept putting the hours in at the pool, wanting to ‘feel’ the water. Another lesson from my coach and things started to fall into place. There was a consistency and a smoothness to my stroke which all adds to efficiency. Eventually I started to make serious gains and was putting power through the glide, which had been there all along but I never harnessed it thanks to poor technique.

  

The cool feel of the water rippling over your body as you pull deep into the pool, rotating, propelled forward and smashing out the next stroke like Michael Phelps. Your cardiovascular is in overdrive and your muscles are reaching new levels of endurance in calm and controlled showmanship. This is the lure of the swim.

 In late November, an opportunity came up that continued to play on my mind. The Edge’s ‘Super Sprint Triathlon’ for Children in Need involved a 400m swim, 10k ride on spin bikes and 3k on the treadmill. 400 metres equates to 16 lengths in the pool, which is easy for an average swimmer. For me, it would be the culmination of weeks of work. So I entered the day before and didn’t tell anyone about my attempt, except for my girlfriend - she used to swim at county level and that was pressure enough! But without too much expectation, it was just me and the pool and the clock.

There’s a buzz at the start of any race. Adrenaline, hopes and fears all play a part. I was proud to finish the Super Sprint with a respectable time of 41 minutes, including a fast time on the bike. So there’s promise for the real triathlon experience in spring next year and open water tris are the real goal.

Until then, good luck with winter training folks, be it in the pool, on the roads or high mountain.