Now then now then.  For those of you who don't know me too well, I suffer from a serious and untreatable medical condition known as Cronic Lazy B*stard Syndrome.  There's nothing I like more than lying on the incredibly comfortable sofa in my front room and some days it's hard to summon the energy to get up off it.  I've been doing a lot of this recently so when my good friend Peter Michael Gerrard Hurley mentioned that he was going to Tenerife to get away from it all and ride up big f*ck off mountains all day on his road bike, I thought this would be a good opportunity to get a bit of psyche back (again).

Tenerife is full of hills and is perfect for road cycling having miles and miles of newly resurfaced roads from sea level all the way up to 3000+ metres, and rumour has it that Bradley Wiggins trained there for his successful Tour de France campaign.  Pete said he was going for almost a month but I couldn't afford that long and couldn't get that much time off work anyway so we (my lovely girlfriend Michelle and I) decided to meet Pete for his last week there to make sure he wasn't killing himself too much on his daily torturous bike rides and to have a good time.  And oh yeah, to climb.

 

Some rocks up at El Tiede

 

The first day there saw Michelle and I straight off the plane into our hire car looking for somewhere nice to get a bite to eat.  We soon found a lovely little seaside town and tucked into a Spanish omlette accompanied by two Haras (pints of   ice cold lager served in frosted glasses).  Then it was time to seek out some of the local climbing.  The nearest crag was one called Guaria so we headed there.  We only had time to do one route so did a 6a chimney in the initiation sector.  It proved to be pleasant enough although a little loose but not the best route in the world.  At that point I was fearful that my pessimistic ideas about Tenerife that I had before we arrived were all coming true.  They originated when we first had a look through the guide and the majority of the routes looked chossy and loose.  Ah well, it's ony one route, maybe it's an anomaly, the rest of the island could be superb.  You never know.

 

The next day we decided to head up to the highest crag on the island which looked like it had the most interesting rock formations and possibly routes too, Canada del Capricho.  We had a lovely first proper days climbing there, managing to climb from 11 in the morning to 6:30 in the evening, doing 10 routes ranging from 6a to 7b.  The 7b was an absolute nightmare to climb.  Absolutely desperate moves through a bulge with nothing really for your feet.  The picture in the guide showed a man doing a figure of four to bypass the massive reach between the holds.  I tried this but was too weak to hold my own bodyweight from one arm but just about managed to slap my way through it to the top.  God I hope the rest of the routes aren't as hard as this.  Before we came I was told that the routes on Tenerife are generally pretty tough for the grade and our first days climbing confirmed this for us.

 

On the way back to the apartment we took this shot of the cloud below us.  Beautiful, I'm sure you'll agree.

 

The view down to the coast

 

Anyway I don't want this to turn into another waffle fest like my other blog so I'll try and keep it brief.  Next day we climbed at Arico which is the most popular crag on the island and supposed to be the best.  We had another great day climbing and I managed to do the world's hardest 7b+.  My opinion on the grades in Tenerife and why they are so hard is that a lot of the routes are quite short and hence pretty boudery and whenever the routes get longer there are still very bouldery sections to overcome.  Ah well, at least the climbing was good.

 

I normally only ever spend a couple of hours at a crag, having to retire through fatigue, sore skin or sore feet before too long.  Having Michelle on holiday really helped motivate me to climb more as she wanted to get in as much as possible and we ended up doing at least 10 routes every day.

 

360 shot of the gorge at El Rio

 

I'm doing it again I know.  I can only apologise.  Must be so boring to read.  I'll cut to the chase.  Our favourite crag of the trip was El Rio and I did one of the best routes I have ever climbed in my life there.  More about that soon though, I promise.

 

Towards the end of the day at El Rio I climbed a magnificent 7b+ up a balancy knife edge arete called Mademoiselle Amsterdam.  Brilliant moves, not pumpy at all, just very technical, I'd recommend it to anyone.  Now for the main meat.  I'd set myself a target of redpointing an 8a on the island which I thought was quite optimistic given the apparent harsh grading and the pitiful one week of training I did before the trip.

 

We ventured further into the gorge of El Rio at the end of our 3rd day of climbing.  I was trepid about getting on anything hard, as I always am, because I was worried about being unfit and I'll just fail on it anyway so what's the point?  Michelle was my motivation again and practically forced me to get on an 8a called La Vira.  Looking up at it showed that it was an overhanging prow full of horrible frictionless slopers.  I was very intimidated by the steepness and had butterflies in my stomach before I tied on.  At the second clip I was vexed.  Couldn't figure out what to do at first.  Then it came to me.  A heel hook round the arete and a huge rock up to a small crimp landed me on the slab before the beef of it.  Oh damn I was nervous.  I set off up the steep prow becoming increasingly pumped on the shoddy slopers struggling to find anywhere to rest between the powerful moves.  I put a clip in the last bolt, clipped it, and looked up at the lower-off, tantalisingly close, I could almost taste it!  I've come this far, don't fall off now.  For god's sake man just don't fall off!!!  I felt the holds above.  All pants.  I was way too pumped to hold them.  I looked up at a hold 4 foot above me.  I was getting more pumped by the second. It was my only option.   I had to slap for it and hope my fingers would latch onto it.  I quickly composed myself, positioned my feet, and lay one on.  Aaaaaaaarrrrggghhhh, I shouted as my hand hit the hold.  There was no way I would hold it.  Way too boxed.  But somehow I did.  One more move saw me level with the lower-off on a shabby hold, boxed beyond belief.  I shouted down to Michelle to give me slack quick before I fall off.  I just managed to clip it before I flopped back onto the rope, a beaming smile on my face.  Goddamn climbing is good.  I forget that sometimes.  Psyched out  of my mind.  I'd exceeded all my expections for the trip.  I'd managed to onsight an 8a putting the clips in as I went and it was only day 3.  Get in you little beauty.

 

Sorry.  I'm such a waffler when it comes to writing blogs.  It's the only way I know.  Thank you to anyone who is still reading this.  It's pretty long winded I know.  Not much more I promise.  Nearly half way.  JOKE!

 

Sunburn

 

The next few days saw our grades drop a bit through fatigue and sunburn (typical Brits abroad) but on the last day climbing we decided to head back to El Rio as we'd had such a good time there before.  We were both pretty knackered and the end of the day was quickly approaching but I decided I needed to get on something hard as it was the last day.  There was one line in the gorge that had caught my eye in the guide from day one.  It was an 8a+ called Chinyero and followed a truly striking, overhanging arete, steeper and longer than La Vira which I had climbed a few days earlier.  I set off up the route, putting the clips in as I went, and quickly became pumped.  I'd managed to build up a tiny bit more fitness on the trip so I managed to battle up to where I guessed the crux would be, at a point where the arete steepens significantly and the holds become rather more spaced out, before it settles onto the slab above where the lower off was.  I gave it my best and fell off on the crux section at the last clip as I later realised I had my foot too low.  Too tired to have another go that day and it was getting late but it was our last climbing day.  We flew home tomorrow.  What to do, what to do?  I'll leave the clips in and come back early tomorrow morning to get it done as it was such a good climb.  The flight wasn't until 4pm so we'd have bags of time.  Off home for a few beers and an early(ish) night.

 

We awoke at 8am the morning of the flight, packed all our stuff, said our fare thee wells and head to the crag.  We arrived at the parking at 9 and checked the plane tickets.  Darn it to hell, the flight was at 1 not 4.  Idiots!  I'd left 10 clips in a route that was a good 15 minute walk away.  That woud leave me an hours climbing time to warm up, try the route and get the clips back before we had to set off back to the car and then to the airport.  Oh well.  Just give it your best shot I suppose.

 

We got to the bottom of the route and I tied straight on, no warm up, and went for the send.  I felt better than I had the previous evening.  But I fell off because of a stupid mistake, one move higher than my onsight attempt.  Foot too low.  Again!  Buggery doo!  What to do?!  I had 45 minutes before we reached the cut-off time for departure, so I rested like my life depended on it and got ready for another go.  I was still a bit pumped but there was nothing for it, it's now or never (or maybe some other time in the future when we go back to Tenerife but it sounds better saying it that way).  I tied in and reached my previous high point and remembered to put my foot on the higher foothold.  All that was left was an awesome heel hook move to reach a good crimp some way above.  I was pooped but I let out a Sharma scream and landed the hold.  A few more moves and I was at the belay.  Yes!  I'd done it, and with moments to spare.  I rate this route as one of the best routes I've done.  Such a beautiful line and tremendously sexy moves.  Here's a picture I stole off the internet:

 

A sexy man on a sexy route: Chinyero 8a+

 

Right that's pretty much it.  Oh yeah, we ate a lot of cheese.

 

I'd just like to say congratulations to my esteemed colleague (and I'm proud to say friend) at 5.10, Mr Ryan "Pig-Limb" Pasquill for his recent success in Spain.  For those of you who don't know Ryan has climbed a 9a called Jungle Speed in super quick time.  Well done my friend.  Now stop drinking beer and climb something else hard you fool!

 

Also, I'd like to thank 5.10 for continuing to provide me with free shoes for another year, even if the allowance has been reduced ;-)  Thanks a lot guys.  You're the best.  I love you x

Since being recruited to the Five Ten team back in 2008 (God is it really that long?), I have made no effort whatsoever to keep the climbing media or sponsors up to date with any of my activities.  Since Five Ten so kindly took me under their wing, I have been dropped by other sponsors for being the lazy, apathetical, miserable young git that I am.  I decided it was high time I pulled my proverbial finger out and make an effort before history repeated itself.  So here goes.

 

Rather than presenting you with a back catalogue of all that has happened since I started at Five Ten, which would be both time consuming and extremely lame, I thought I would provide a brief summary of recent events.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                        The whole team: Dom, Sarah, Lucy, Michelle, Lex and Me

 

The last week in October saw me and a group of friends head to France to sample the multitudinous delights that the Forest of Fontainebleau has to offer.  We arrived late on a Saturday afternoon feeling pretty tired after an exhausting and completely unnecessary drive through the centre of Paris (thanks navigator, you know who you are!!!).  The idea was to get in a quick session before it got dark as the weather was so nice (clear blue skies, cold, crisp air and a light breeze).  As you may well know you have to grab any oppurtunity to climb in Font by the balls because the weather can turn so nonchalently for the worse.  You hear so many horror stories of climbers spending all week cooped up inside their Gites, wishing the conditions would improve just enough for them to climb at least ONE problem before they leave!  This was my fourth trip to Font and I regard myself as a bit of a lucky charm when it comes to the weather there.  I've managed to climb every day that I wanted to on every trip I've had there.  Until now that is...  Anyway, back to the trip.  So we decided to head to Elephant as this was the closest venue to our Gite.  A pleasant time was had by all on the lovely circuits (can't remember what colours, but they were bloody good - maybe black, definately maybe some reds??), then it was back to the Gite to drink some strong French beer, eat some traditional french grub (most notably cheese and garlic) and fall into a pleasant sleep dresming of what the week had to offer.

 

I find that it is impossible to get a proper hangover on climbing holidays.  I've been on many and drunk lots and lots and lots of beer every night and still woken up feeling rosy and raring to go.  A classic example is my recent trip to the Frankenjura with my good friend and fellow connoisseur of fine beers, Ryan Pasquill, rock climber extraordinaire and general nice chap.  The beers in Bavaria are second to none and every afternoon/eveing would see us two young pretenders chilling to the max in the blazing sunshine with a whole host of German beers at our disposal.  I don't remember one morning waking up with anything remotely resembling a hangover on that trip.  Fontainebleau was no different this time.  Perhaps it's the psyche and adrenalin that suppress the feeling of nausea and lethargy on climbing holidays.  Who knows?  Anyway, I'm waffling again so back to the trip.

 

The second day saw us head to Roche aux Sabots as this was a nice venue for the whole team to get reaquainted with the rock.  There are lots of good sized boulders (nothing too big and scary) with a whole range of grades which meant that everybody could have a great day.  After warming up and smashing in a few of the lower end sevens, I decided to try something harder.  I'd come to Font with a vague ambition of doing a 7c+.  I'd never done 7c+ in Font before but had previously managed to ascend a classic 8a "slab" called Duel, something which I never thought I'd be able to do.  I don't like incompleteness and I regarded this jump in grades in Font as a failure that needed rectifying by filling in the invisible 7c+ gap.  As I say, it was only a vague ambition as I knew that I'd done virtually no training leading up to the trip (a few pull-ups two weeks before) and been generally lax in my motivation/climbing for the past few months.  Waffle.  So I messed around on Salle Gosse, a problem I had previously found pretty easy as it can be done using momentum and timing rather than brute strength, and managed to do it second go.  I looked in the guide and the squatter was 7c+.  Couldnt hurt having a quick blast could it?  Okay so it's not the uber classic Font 7c+ that it should have been for my first, but I was grade hungry!

 

                                                    Salle Gosse 7c+

 

The problem involves a burly move from an undercut to the starting hold or a much less strenuous, much more "floaty" move using a sharp mono.  Not everyones cup of tea but it worked better for me in my weakened state of fitness.  I managed all the moves fairly quickly so decided to start trying it from the ground proper.  A few fluffy goes and I'd nearly done it.  Hitting a hold every time that I knew, were I able to aim for correctly, I would do the problem.  Few minutes rest.  Give the feet a rest.  Smoke a fag.  Back on it.  I pulled on finding the moves much easier after my rest, reach the hold after the mono when disaster strikes.  I fall off and look down at my hand.  Nooooooooooooo!!!!!!!

 

                                     Cheeky

 

A massive flapper on the first day of the trip.  Great.  Just what I needed.  I taped it up and tried the offending problem again but to no avail.  Ah well.  Try stay psyched.  The next few days saw the weather maintain its cold and dry characteristics but there was a storm on the horizon (quite literally).  Thursday was meant to bring with it a carnival of bad bad weather, the likes of which I had never seen in Font.  There was suddenly a sense of urgency.  Must get as much climbing as possible in before the storm a comes.  So we all went out, determined as ever, to enjoy our climbing trip and climb as many quality problems as possible.  People who know me will tell you how bad my memory is and it is at this point that I have to admit that I no longer remember what crags we went to over the next few days.  I've got a vague recollection of Cuvier and Apremont but that coukd just be a dream for all I know.

 

Anyhow, I remember the last day we had climbing.  It was Isatis.  I'm sure of it.  Maybe.  No it definitely was.  Me and Dom Diddy were psyched to try Surprise, a classic 7b+ on the first boulder you come to.  I'd tried it before but never been able to make my nervous sweaty palms stick to the shocking slopers.  Today was no different.  We both gave up after a short seige, Dom doing a little better than myself, and sat down to have some lunch.  By this point I'd completely given up on my dream of a 7c+, having climbed everyday up to now and hence having RUBBISH skin, weak muscles and a massive flapper that hadn't healed yet.  I went back to look at Surpise and noticed a cool looking arete to the left.  A quick look in the guide showed that it was a 7c+.  But it couldn't be.  It had HOLDS.  Problems in Font aren't supposed to have holds on them.  Everyone knows that.  You just squeeze nothingness until you get to the top.  Not this one though.  It looked do-able.  I tried the lower moves and soon had a good sequence and I was hitting the "top" everytime.  This might go yet me old mucker!  Unfortunately the top out turned out to be the crux.  I was finding it hard hanging the shabby slopers and was ready to give up at any moment.  I had my last go and threw in the towel.  I won't do that, no way kidda.  Dom Diddy had other ideas.  "Smit, you're so close!  You can DO this!" he said.  I gave it one last go.  Everything seemed to click this go, maybe I put my feet in slightly different position, maybe I fed off Dom's energy, who know?  All I know was I was standing atop my first 7c+ in Font, Elvis, in my eyes an absolute classic.

 

Next day we decided to drive home early as the bad weather was swiftly descending on the quaint rural adventure playground that is Fontainebleau.  A good trip was had by all, we counted our blessings that we'd had five glorious days of uninterrupted climbing and great company.  Back to Sheffield for two weeks of rain :-(

 

Well, that was a bit of an essay and I didn't even get to say all that I had to say.  Next time I'll try keep it briefer, I promise.  But wait.  There's more...

 

Headed out alone to the Peak on Friday intent on doing some easy soloing.  Alas, Burbage, Stanage, Higgar all covered in fog and rather damp.  I sceptically drove over to Curbar to see whether there would be a break in the fog and conditions were marginally better when I arrived.  Sat in the car waiting for some psyche to come I remembered a friend talking of a route called Grand Potato at Baslow, just over the road from Curbar.  I'm not sure of the grade on this one, but I'd heard everything from E7 to 7a+, depending on how many pads and spotters you had.  I had one pad and no spotter but I thought I'll go have a look anyway, just to see what it was like.  I arrived, looked up at the route/problem and was immediately inspired.  I must climb this now.  So I put my measly pad down where I thought it might make a difference and set off upwards.  My first go saw me stretching for the top but the rock felt sandy and damp and I wussed out.  I turned my head desperately trying to see where the pad was.  I saw it.  And psyched up for the jump.  My breathing got heavier and heavier until I let out a prolonged "Uuurgghhh!" and jumped off.  I seemed to be in the air for ages.  I hit the mat and rolled.  I was alright.  I'll leave that for today I thought.

 

Sunday saw me return with my good friend Michelle who'd just managed to climb her project earlier that day, Mark's Roof LH at Gardoms.  Perhaps her presence would encourage me to man up and go for that  last move?  Or maybe the extra pad she'd brought would make a difference.  Who knows?  The conditions were a world apart from Friday and I managed to dispatch it first go of the day.  It's an amazing problem/route/whatever with some wicked moves in exposed positions.  I recommend it to anybody.  Michelle took a video of me but I'm a techno idiot and I can't figure out how you put videos on.  Maybe I'll figure it out and one day there'll be a video here.  Until then, here's a picture of me and my moustache instead.

 

              Me and my moustache with Grand Potato in the background

 

I feel more psyched than ever to get out climbing again.  I'm going to try my hardest to stay motivated and step up the training.  Hopefully I will be at my best again soon.  Evolution must die!!!!!!!!  Sorry for the waffle.

 

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