Outside at last!

Nick Mattieu finds another invisible hold
on Huggy (Sit Start), Burbage South boulders.
Photo courtesy of Jamie Waddington
(Jamie Waddington Adventure Photography).

Its been a while.  I think the last time I climbed outdoors was in February. So, after a gap of nine months I finally returned to outdoor climbing with a trip to the Peak District. Burbage South boulders to be precise.  I woke at 6am, left the house at 6.30, picked my friend Jon up at 7, and was ordering a cup of tea at the Outside Cafe in Hathersage by shortly after 10. Such a flying visit is possible - and even pleasurable - due to the wonder that is a modern car.  Its amazing how quickly you can travel when you're prepared to be flexible as to the motorway speed limit. And, crucially, when you're not in a twenty year old camper van with a top speed of 60 miles per hour. In your face, bongo bus!


Jon and I met up with Jon's friend Dave, Dave's friend Bart, and Bart's friend Nick.  Nick turned up first, so Jon and I had no idea who he was.  Apart from a polite 'hello' we studiously ignored him.  This was less to do with Jon and I being reserved Brits, and more to do with Nick sporting sunglasses and dreadlocks and therefore looking like a Good Climber.  In fact, he was a good climber, but also a thoroughly nice bloke.  As was Bart, who it turns out had given up his job in the UK Government Cabinet Office so he could become a teacher in Sheffield and have more time for climbing. He complained that the hours were longer and the pay rubbish, but then revealed that he climbed in the peak district most evenings through the summer months and twice at weekends. "And," he added, almost as an afterthought, "the holidays are pretty good".


It was a fantastic day. The weather was glorious - misty first thing, clearing to beautiful sunshine by mid morning.The sort of day when I can't help thinking there's no where I'd prefer to live than good old England. The autumn colours were stunning. And despite it being late November the sun was warm enough for us to climb in tee shirts, but not quite warm enough to warm the rock  - perfect friction conditions for a day of gritstone bouldering.   Some people say that gritstone has no holds.  The slabs, blunt aretes and desperately insecure sloping top-outs certainly make it feel like that way.  But I prefer Johnny Dawes' definition - that gritstone is actually just one big hold.  I don't think anyone has ever encapsulated the art of gritstone climbing better.  Once you get the hang of the delicate moves, the friction, and the fact that you can trust the sticky rubber of your climbing shoes to cling on in the most improbable positions when it seems like there are no footholds at all, it becomes an intensely enjoyable experience.  


It can also, if you climb for long enough, be an intensely painful experience, at least as far as fingertips are concerned.  The friction-providing texture of the rock gradually wears away the skin on one's fingers and by the end of the day's climbing I felt like mine had been thoroughly sandpapered.  If you climb on grit long enough you get used to it and your fingers adapt, becoming harder and more resistant.  No such luck for my delicate pink city-digits.  We climbed until our fingers could take no more, by which point the sun was starting to set and we decided to call it a day and retire to the nearby pub for a recovery pint before the mad dash down the motorway to London.  


I can't remember a more enjoyable day I've had climbing in the UK - great rock, great weather, and great company.  We even bumped into Jamie the photo guy, who agreed to snap us for the day (see his pics here). And best of all, my dodgy ankle and knee seemed to cope without any complaints. Whisper it quietly, but after six weeks of steady progress at the indoor wall, and one session on the grit, progress is even better than I could have hoped for.  The surgeon originally told me I'd be back climbing within twelve months.  At this rate, by April 2012 I should be even stronger than before.  Its as if the enforced lay off has given me a renewed vigour to push myself further and harder.  And as I sat at my desk on Monday morning, with aching shoulders and a tired brain, struggling to hold my takeaway espresso between fingers still tingling from a day on gritstone's finest boulder problems, I reflected on just how good it is to be back outside at last.