A great british adventure

Reaching what is technically
known as a "thank god" ledge. 

When I started this blog almost two and a half years ago it was intended - in part at least - to be a means of documenting my climbing exploits. But if I count - as I do -  indoor climbing as merely training for climbing, and only outdoor climbing as climbing itself, there hasn’t been much actual climbing to report of late.  

Last year was almost entirely a washout. So much so that I can comfortably count the number of quality climbing experiences in 2012 on two hands. 2013 began in much the same vein - after an excellent start to the year largely spent accumulating skiing days in the French Alps the British spring never really materialised.  The Peak District gritstone bouldering season came and went with nothing of any note achieved and apart from a welcome day clipping bolts in Tenerife for my mate Jon’s stag weekend, my climbing forays for the first half of the year appeared doomed to extend no further than the odd afternoon on the Kent sandstone outcrops an hour from our home in London. 

But belatedly the weather came good, and for the last few weeks the pressure has been on to grab as many days on rock as possible whilst juggling work, two children and assorted family commitments.  It all came together a couple of weeks ago when Dr Potter and I managed to coordinate a Monday off work for a day trip to Swanage in Dorset.  I am told that Swanage is statistically one of the sunniest places in the UK. Whatever the stats say (and I am a firm believer that faith in averages often leads to disappointment), the weather gods were definitely smiling. Sun, a light breeze and relatively calm seas made for a perfect day of multi-pitch sea-cliff climbing. Swanage summed up everything I love about traditional climbing in Britain - a beautiful setting, uncertainty about the weather, no-one for miles, a totally committing free-hanging abseil approach, belaying from a ledge with the waves pounding all around, superb moves up positive holds on steep overhanging rock, hanging belays from gear stuffed into just-about-solid placements, all the while not quite knowing whether you are good enough to climb the two pitches of E2 5c required to get back to the top of the cliff.  Everything about it spoke adventure. 

We finished by abseiling into an ‘easy’ sector of single pitch routes. Just the thing to round off the day by racking up the miles on some moderate routes.  How wrong we were.  By the time we started climbing, rock which only a couple of hours before had been warm and dry in the sun was now firmly in the shade and covered in a slippery layer of sea-spray.  Undeterred, Dave set off up an easy crack only to be unceremoniously dumped on his arse before he’d had a chance to place any gear (he has since attempted to show me the perfect donut-fossil-shaped purple and yellow bruise which he tells me covers most of both bum cheeks - so far I have resisted his efforts). The next climb saw me whimpering and wobbling up what should have been a very straightforward crack (described in the guidebook as ‘the most popular moderate route on the cliff’), gripping desperately to tiny pockets whilst my feet skated around on the soaking footholds .  After falling repeatedly - including onto a dubious and very rusty looking peg when my gear ripped out - I had a word with myself and carried on upwards to the dry face holds above.  I realised afterwards that for most of the climb all I could think about was one of Lara’s current favourite phrases - “don’t like it” - which kept repeating over and over in my head until I got to the top.  Sun, friends, adventure, a dose of fear - what’s not to love about climbing?!

Days like this are a welcome reminder of why I love living in the UK and just how much it has to offer.  Not just in terms of the variety of climbing but in almost every respect - possibly with the exception of the weather.  I have in the last week learned that in mid October I’ll be taking a new position as my firm’s Learning and Development manager for Asia, which will involve us moving to Hong Kong for a couple of years. Exciting times undoubtedly.  I have already checked out the climbing prospects in Hong Kong - excellent, since you ask - and there are many, many other things which will make it a wonderful place to raise a family.  Yet there is so much here that I will miss terribly - the home we have created for ourselves, friends to see, family to share fun times with, classic climbs as yet unclimbed, new areas to explore.  So as we embark upon the task of preparing to move our lives eight thousand miles around the world, perhaps the thing I am most excited about is knowing that in a few years' time I get to come back and discover it all again.