Friday, 5 August 2022

Back in the Saddle

 So six months (ish) have passed. Lots of baby steps in physio, lots of little exercises. Walks and wanders, dreaming and scheming.

However, today I have returned to my love. Our of the asylum and back to the wilderness; boot and pad in hand.

Mr Fidler ( soon to be Dr no doubt) joined me in returning to a tentative loose end, found while on Deep Recon on the A487. The dolerite dominoes of Llyn Cymystradlyn may well be sandstone (I'm sure a geologist will tell us), but semantics aside, I can assure you of there provision of quality entertainment.

The approach for starters, takes in an inordinate array of bracken and bog. It wasn't until our retreat that the local fishermen imparted the arcane knowledge that boulder hopping the shoreline was a lot drier and ultimately swifter then balancing hummock to hummock across the sprawling bogs.

Once there, Dave got stuck into the big prize while I tentatively pulled on my comfy boots and looked for a lowball to toy with:

I was amazed how much I had to fight on the lowball, so low it probably deserved a ¡ After its lowly 6A¡.

Dave fought hard to make links on the giant roof, but settled on its soaring arete, which jutted proudly over a jumble of distant death blocks, definitely a !!

We had only taken a pad each, as we both had aspects of crippled on. These we placed under the bits where they could actually make a difference, leaving the void to take care of itself. Fortunately the finish was fairly straightforward. So he tells me. I didn't even attempt to pull on.

This became Brithyll Saithliw 6C!!

All the while I kept flailing on my slopey ground hugging traverse, eventually it relented to give the Inconsequential Traverse 6A¡

Amazed at the heady heights I had achieved after only 6 months of semi-recumbant woodlice husbandry, Dave had a go:

Both flushed with this success, we retired to the lower tier, where I quickly scored another prize.

This time it was Slopey Topscrittle; a lurchy F5

I then spent some time trying to be a wad, by brushing the holds to its right. This was mainly in vain. Although it did help to spur Dave onto furthering his efforts to cross the horizontal steepness:

Long video, but Well worth it for the banter.

In between banter, I jolly well got another first ascent- This ones called Moby Dick (there's a whale..) another 5 probably.


Laughter. That's what characterized this trip, that and joy, and bog. Plus a bit of choss.

At this point Dave pulled himself together and climbed this:

He called it Throwing Sheeps, due to my mistaking a herd of sheep for seagulls, and claimed it was 7B. I suspect he was being modest.

We finished up a delightful afternoon by hunting for signs of the mysterious G Mawr, and stumbled on this rather pretty boulder that shows signs of cleaning:

 If it hasn't been done before, you can call it Eog and it's about 6Bish ( the jumble of dominoes is in the background). It was too high for me to risk, and has a bum puncher block at its base. Shame really, if it was dug out it would be 3 stars good.

A great first return, I still have to be careful, lower my expectations, as well as the risk and the height. However, I'm reassured that by keeping a steady pace I can be back to being a loon by next spring.

A happy place.

Friday, 1 July 2022

I (still) Ate'nt Dead

 I'm just over 4 months into my recovery from a ruptured Achilles tendon. I think I will be able to safely return to climbing in August, maybe.

It's been a bit of an emotional journey with lots of dips. I thought I'd be able to return sooner, once I could fully weight my toes. However there's more strengthening to do and a rerupture would be back to the beginning again.

Well reasoned words. What actually happened was I tried to climb, I even sneakily pulled on some holds outside 

Nothing serious, just a damp visit to Porth Howel. All excited I went to my physio the next day.

"Returning to climbing would be a bad idea"

What does he know. . I'll text a bouldering physio..

"Not yet"

Next climbing physio.

"Keep strengthening "

Begrudgingly I aquiesced.

So it's been quiet on here, quiet on my Instagram too, just pictures of my distraction hobby; isopod breeding.

It's the invertebrate enthusiast equivalent of pigeon fancying, very geeky.

Other than that I've been trying to score parenting points, took one of my boys for a wild camp.

We got wet.

Other than that, micro-exploration continues. I have even made a second cleaning visit to This 

I was surprised to find some of the holds still clean

Has anybody done the second ascent? I'd love to know, I've never been sure of the grade.

Ho hum. Hopefully more news next month 

Friday, 8 April 2022

Here be Really Tiny Dragons

 Well I'm now free of the boot and hobbling free. It's still early days, I'm certainly miles away from actually climbing again. However, I have discovered it's all in pretty good shape considering. 

I took it for a test drive.

Turns out with appropriate footwear I can get around a bit.
Yep I also used a walking pole, and had to sit down occasionally, but with care and caution..

I even coped with a little wilderness terrain.

So early days, but the joy of going somewhere I haven't been before, (especially as it felt like somewhere people didn't go often ) Well. It made me feel myself again.

The same time I was filling in the blanks on my personal map, a good friend and wind up merchant James Caff McHaffie was polishing off the original Giveaway Project of the Month from 2009.

I was incredibly made up, as I'd been banging on about the Superprow for, well, 13years. I'd even tried it myself ( too scary) and was building a patio for future highballers. Caff of course added a couple of token stones and cracked on regardless.

Since lockdown Caff has polished off four of my "Too much for Hosey" projects.
It's been really gratifying passing them on and seeing other people catch the vision I had.

This got me thinking about how much I've explored versus either finding anything, or if I do, actually getting round to climbing these lumps.

From the new perspective of temporary crippledom I'm realising that the hunt is as valuable (sometimes more so?) Than the capture.

A bit of a Google search found I was not alone. Micro exploration has been coined to describe these events. In the past adventurers were drawn to the blank bits of the map. In the modern world, the blank bits are still there. You just have to zoom in a bit, basic chaos theory innit?

All this is weighing on my mind, as climbing seems a long way off ( my gimpy toes only can take about 30% bodyweight). I'm coping with this by concentrating on being an explorer.

My project book is all full of ticks ( mine and other people's) and some unclimbed rock has to be discovered to refill it.
Today I went here:

Random woods on the edges of the map. Not so much a blank bit, as a bit that's been doodled on, had some tea spilt on it and then dropped down the back of the bookcase.
It's these forgotten places that occasionally turn up treasure.

So the gimpy foot generally behaved, apart from when a hidden stick snapping under my heel and shocking the system a tad.  I can keep exploring and finding new happy places.

There's treasure everywhere

Thursday, 3 March 2022

Das Boot

 Well last blog post I was exiting a low patch and combating the trials of a Welsh winter.. Spring is on its way and I'd started trawling through the memory sticks and phone caches for this year's motivation. Turns out I've got a few reasonable projects squirrelled away.

Unfortunately on a family day out I managed to perform a complete rupture of my right Achilles tendon while showing off to the kids.

So I'm now in a bit of a pickle.
Given my recent low patch, you'd think I'd be circling the drain right now, but I'm somehow feeling quite chipper.
Ok this year is written off for bouldering. I think I maybe have climbed my last highball.
This is a pretty good challenge...
As someone who has always been drawn to the adventure and challenges of climbing rather than the difficulty or max gainz, my immediate worry was that my drug of choice was cut off and I was going to fall down a toilet like Ewan McGregor in Trainspotting.

But adventure is in the eyes of the beholder. I'm known for the esoteric side of adventure as it is, so exploring over nice level ground and sea cliff reconnaissance in my dinghy on very calm seas should provide suitable methadone adventures.

Rehab, the process and what's ahead.

I'm 2 and a bit weeks in, I was fortunate to be seen straight away in Ysbyty Gwynedd by one of their very experienced nurse practitioner's whose expert lining up of the ducks meant I saw the specialist the next morning and was straight into a vacuped boot rather than an Equinus cast. The first 2 week's were rough with self injecting the anticoagulant meds and enforced rest.
I'm now beginning a very tentative transition to weight bearing and leaving the confines of the crutches. I'm thinking this process will take 2-3 weeks. The coach in me has established I can currently support without pain about 3 stone of my body weight so pretty early days.

In two weeks I get to adjust the boot to allow a heady 15° of movement in my ankle.

I'm hoping to start driving again early April
Physio will start around this time.

Easy walks are tentatively pencilled in to start around May refilling the project folder.

Refilling as I've started giving away the higher or awkward to access ones.

Summer I get the dinghy out.

So yes. Chipper. New kinds of adventure, I'm even tentatively returning to my childhood hobby of exotic invert collecting, wife allowing.

There's treasure everywhere..

Friday, 3 December 2021

Dark Autumn

 Well it rained a lot. And the family got Covid (all except me bizarrely)

To be Frank, my motivation took a bit of a nose dive, I went back to Porth Howel, which was nice..

The autumn storms had brought winter pebble levels. I was pleased to confirm that it didn't really make Barcode Punk easier, and I got to repeat What a Difference a Wave Makes, which again was nice.

I also followed up a hunch and checked the prow project at the old Trefor pier.

So the big prow project is back on... There is a niggle in the back of my brain, and at this point I think the seeds of discontent were sewn. 

I'll explain. 

I've had a great year. Properly Stonking. The motivational boost provided by the new bouldering guide has meant that I've ticked a humongous amount of long term projects this year. 

The shard

George's crack

The Tosheroon 

Barcode Punk... 

But there is still so much to do, and the wave of success has to reach the beach at some point. Fear of Failure has been a long-term foe, one I have repeatedly defeated only for it to jet off like The Claw. 

Throw in some external stress, and it's quickly becoming a bit black. 

Feeling burnt out is OK, feeling incapable and vulnerable is OK. Withdrawing a bit is not bad... But I'll be damned if I relinquish control.

So to try and break this low patch I went back to exploring. 

A bit of Google Swooping* found me a wood with a cliff in it and an adjacent public footpath.
*flying round Google Earth with help from Geograph.Org.Uk

Path was closed due to an exciting bridge (well I enjoyed it).
Turns out the interesting path wasn't exactly public.. 

Proper mushroom circle 

Slightly too small boulder. 
There was a massive and inaccessible cliff in the wood, but by that point I'd had enough, and diverted myself along a contour to check out a dark roof in a cwm. 

English Sheepdog Sheep! 

Turned out to be a slatey hole.. 

All in all a tad disappointing. I was lucky enough to get an actually sunny day, but with little psyche I diverted to more Google Swooping and a hunt for Tone's Golden Boulder. I found it, was underwhelmed, and quested on to see these reprobates:

Not rubbish, but not enough to pull me out of my slump. 

Driven by a unhelpful desire to add to the forthcoming Nwb3.2 idid a last bit of Google Swooping and decided to check out Carreg Lefain. I'd seen on ukc that the parking described in the Llyn guide was no longer welcomed by the land owner. Fortunately, the excellent work on the Mynydd Nefyn footpath network had meant easy access via a carpark just south of the crag. 

The crag itself looked ace, almost tempting me to dust off my rack and revisit in the Spring ;

Slight digital photobomb.. A couple of boulder bits at the bottom, but no pot of gold. 

In nearby mynydd nefyn quarry I found a cool looking crack.. 

And a too small but perfectly formed microgranite boulder. 

So yet another disappointing ramble, at this point I swore off further Llyn exploration.. 

(though I might come back for Gwylwyr quarry). 
What finally snapped me out of the doldrums was an indoor climbing session with my wife. I hadn't lead climbed apart for when I was setting for months, and it was fun just trying stuff and getting pumped.

It's OK to fail if you're having fun.
Find your own fun, this may not be the same as other people's fun. 
That's OK too (within the usual societal boundaries ofc). 

Thus I found myself going to an old venue, in an unfashionable out of the way spot. I'd told myself that I'd try some of the easy stuff I'd scoped out. However, I soon got sucked into old projects. 

So I'm now looking forward to trying, Failing and maybe succeeding on random things that I find fun. I'm putting aside tick lists for a bit (save some for next year). 
I hope the rest of the winter will be a bit drier, but I won't base my happiness on it. 
Finally I probably wouldn't have exited this wallow quite so speedily without the support and heckling of my wife and kids, and the shadowy network of professional banter merchants known as the Pebble Helms (cheers lads). 
Keep me posted on any virgin offwidth sightings.. 
I'll try not to leave it so long between blogs, but there's always the Instagram.

Forward Always 

Sunday, 12 September 2021

Gabba Gabba Hey! Or how everything is better when Listening to the Ramones

 "Punks not a product, its zest for life" 

-Milky Wimpshake "Barcode Punk

Once more I find myself poured utterly into a project. Riffing on training ideas an Macgyver-ing myself any advantage I can scavenge. It all sounds very romantic, but it's mainly blood and sweat and dribble.. However, there are worse situations to be in than sitting on my favourite beach in the drizzle. 

The following was written live from the trenches, as it were... 

Once more I lounged below the roof of the Idiot Kings, watching the drizzle turn the grey beach into a riot of colour as the pebbles gloss and shine. For a moment it was like a Kevin Lowery painting. It's never a chore at Porth Howel, although getting out the car into drizzle was an exercise in will power. However, there was beautiful sun over Trefor, and it was dry in Pistyll. Yr Eifl was just toying with the clouds that's all. As I write this the birds shrill out and the drizzle clears. Hope springs eternal.

The rake works well on the smaller pebbles, but it's length (breadth?) means big pebbles can dislodge it from its path. A change in grip and some close work soon deals with this. The traverse is excavated, all is required now is the connies.

I was very close to packing it in, in fact I'd packed up and was just noseying around the other side of the bay which I'd yet to focus on. Walking back to the bag I saw the pebbles were starting to grey again.. Let's not jinx it, time for lunch.

The drizzle returned. I packed it in.

Next visit I returned rake in hand to be greeted by a lack of rain and unfortunately a lack of breeze. 

My previous work with rake (my Macgyver-ing outside the box) seems to have stuck. 

I still set about improving the crater around the lowest foothold, chuckling that by Christmas it would be 2 foot up the wall. The traverse project on the Wall of Something Dead is something I'd toyed with for years, always trying left to right. The moves through the alcove were nails and I never really got that far. It wasn't until earlier this year that I tried it right to left and the moves unlocked.

The subsequent burying of the footholds by the summer migration of the beach was something that I had initially reconciled myself to had niggle at me following success with the Tosheroon. Hence my purchase of the uber Rake. It was soon altered to my needs; chopped to fit better in a pad, and a rubber foot so it could be used as a walking pole /crutch.

This first dry visit back was a bit of an eye opener, as it all felt loads harder. Basically I'd spent the intervening months climbing on my fists, and I now had to remember how to use my fingers. It wasn't a complete waste though, as I was able to throw myself repeatedly at the crux and work out exactly what was required for success.

The traverse is about 23 hand moves long, with a jug one third in. Past this I've never really been able to Chalk up, so took my bag of at this shake point. Leaving the jug the moves get steadily more dynamic and powerful switching from crimps to pinches to fat slopey layaways. The key was positioning your body to enter the next move, and that meant foot work. Footholds required attention. 

Brushing off the sand, Washing off the salt crystals, squeaking the hell out of them. Triaging their value, and marking the important ones, tactics and tricks, trying really hard.

Having exhausted my time there I trudged back to the car, past some walkers with a dog, who started barking excitedly. I commented that he must have loved the cows further up. The owner replied it was fine with livestock, it was that I was walking up the hill with a massive rake..

The following week and a half I bouldered lots at the wall, crimping and pulling and throwing myself around. Of course this hurt, and I overdid it, causing various old man issues. However, it did leave me feeling a bit more prepared. 

When the next session opportunity presented itself, I decided to instead take a small hand fork.. It was very effective, and could be hidden from canines. The opportunity was more driven by availability than conditions, as it was still unseasonably hot, and the tide was large and swiftly encroaching.

Confident that the actual traverse would be non tidal I set out to have a play, give my fingers a workout, and continue my footwork on its journey from pantomime horse to primo ballerina.

The waves were gently lapping over the Seaward wall as I did my little pilates session. The beating I'd given my body during the week was proving to have been positive as I flowed through my little crimpy  set pieces. Although after these preparations I still took 8 or 9 goes to latch the crux.

I changed the foot positions for an earlier hard bit on a whim and found it made it much less dropable. After this I had exhausted all my little bits of noodling prep, and it was time to set up the camera, stare at the sea for a bit, an then have a proper go.


Following that I had a bit of a digging session. I was feeling OK, and keen not to loiter too much at the jug. Rather than dragging my chalkbag to this point, I just put a little pile on the jug itself. Tadah!

Flushed with innovation I rubbed some into my trousers like the cool kids.

Next go.. 

Barcode Punk 7A 

I'd deliberated over the name as most of the wall was Ramones themed, and I was initially keen on R.A.M.O.N.E.S. for the songs energy. In the end it was Milky Wimpshake's word smithery that won out. I'd also convinced myself that it would be 7A+, but no way I could have done that grade in these connies with this body. 

Another tick on my post lockdown To Do list. Might have it finished by Christmas. 

There's Treasure Everywhere. 

Wednesday, 25 August 2021

The Tosheroon


This is my phone. I've had this wall paper for about 7 years, passing from phone to phone.

The picture was taken on this trip in 2015, however, my first discovery of this special sea cave was in 2010, I think on new years day, when a man mate took me out for some Anglesey sport climbing. The climbing turned out to be a little too chilly to be enjoyable, but a gentle wander at low tide with a much needed flask of coffee led to its fortuitous discovery.

Put off by... Well everything really, it took 4 years almost to the day for a return inspection. That first trip I had campused the entrance to the cave and looked at the exit. I was sufficiently excited to return that I talked some friends into returning later that month. The climbing deep in the cave turned out to be really interesting, possibly fun even. Accepting the nature of the challenge was key, it was never going to dry out, chalk was pointless. Barnacles added to the 'fun' adding much needed friction, until you applied too much pressure and they dissolved to slippy paste. The high point of this initial session turned out to be a familiar one. Boxed and flailing at the end of the constricted section.

Some time in 2014 two things were decided.. 

Firstly, that trips should be undertook in the warmer months, as the cold trip meant major gashes off the barnacles due to lack of sensitivity in the hands. This also led to myself almost breaking my hand squeezing the life out of a jam I couldn't feel for fear it would slip.

Denizens of the Tosheroon cave.. 

Secondly, the name of this project. As a keen new router, I often find a name presents itself well before eventual success. Furthermore, it often helps to spur me on to greater efforts. The Tosheroon was a term appropriated by Terry Pratchett in his

 book 'The Truth'. Officially an old English name for a half crown, in the Pratchett universe it is defined as:

"a lump of debris and rubbish made of the mud and gunk found clogged in drains. While they appear worthless, tosheroons can contain valuable items, such as old coins, lost rings and alike." 

It seemed fitting, as while this project on first appearence should on paper be everything we run away from, it contains treasure.

So first trip back after that was in April 2015 during an unfavourable tide. I took the opportunity to scare myself and SWS down the crack reversing the (thankfully dry) HVS ground deep into the wider squeeze section. This left me with only 2m of uncovered ground.

Looking back, I was still doing a lot of bold trad at the time (I'd climbed Twll Love, a bold E5 in Twll Mawr the previous autumn) and attempts this year to repeat this feat resulted in whimpering retreat.

Next proper attempt was that May. Once more I failed to clear the constriction. That September Seren my daughter was born and thoughts of offwidth fitness were put to bed for a while. I visited in 2016, but only to shoot some beta footage. 

Fast forward to Father's day 2019, and one of my son's Ethan, having flicked through the pics on my phone, decided I should go back to Benllech. It got me re-energised for the project, especially as the pebble level had risen and evened out making it feel more boulder and less intimidating.

Returning at the end of the month, it was the old team again. Back with some form of fitness, and having a couple of years of digesting tactics and possible options off all the previous decades footage, I felt hopeful. However, the crux exit of the constriction still eluded me, as the previous 4m was knackering me too much to try a whole lot of things before I plopped off. Another issue was the narrow tide window which only allowed 3-4 goes before retreat became necessary.

Another year and covid came along, the Mountain volume of NWB took my time and attention and The Tosheroon bubbled away at the back of my mind. It had been suggested that my ground up approach might be supplemented by a step ladder, that opened my eyes a bit. With the coming of the summer and the coastal NWB looming, I was keen to put this monster to bed, and with a favourable tide window for 16th July 2021 it was scribbled on the calendar. Post covid, the old team had gone their separate ways and I was given the challenge of enticing new faces to the project.

Fortunately for this opening salvo the reliable Mark Reeves was willing to come and heckle. We were also joined at short notice by that lover of all things niche; the Fiend. Needless to say the session was banter heavy, and I somehow managed to get out of the construction into the wider squeeze. However, in my 1000 yard stare state I'd become fixated on the right wall of the cave (possibly due to the extensive examination of it from the step ladder - didn't bring it again). The video is a bit long, but worth it for the running commentary :

At about midnight that same evening I came to the realisation that I should have switched to face the other way. Picture Dr Emmet Brown exclaiming "Great Scott!" and you get the idea.

Next visit (25th July) was with a mutual acquaintance  of Fiend and myself, who Mr F thought would be keen. He wasn't wrong - Rafe turned out to be a power house of enthusiasm and encouragement. The ladder was left at home, and instead a rather large stack of pads was bundled to the beach. Once more I'd cleared the constriction, but by then the barnacles had managed to rip both my tape gloves off:

Rafe giving it some 

For the next trip (10th August) I was to be joined by both Fiend and Rafe, and I set about retiring my old foamies and traced some new 2mm foam rubber templates. I've been building my tape gloves around these foam pads for about 18 months now and I'm finding they give a good compromise between the efficiency of a pure tape and the convenience, and let's face it bulk, of a jamming glove (I have small fists).

Once again Fiend bought the banter, but I was still unsure of the exact sequence of circus tricks required to establish me firmly on the left wall. I also prevented an early ejection from the roof with a dyno-bar of my right knee.

The aftermath 

After that I was running somewhat on fumes. Good laugh though:

The next available tide window was the 23rd of August. Unfortunately nobody could come with me that date. I felt quite nervous about this as the tide window is narrow. A low spring tide is needed which gives about 3 hours of access before completely submerging the cave again. Not somewhere to have an accident. However with only about 2 tide windows a month being available to me, and winter looming, I needed every session. 

I set about finding as many things that could provide an edge as possible. MMA knee sleeves under my trousers, a slimmer £3 headtorch off ebay to stop it catching. Hell, I even bought an led dog collar (not useful in actual action unfortunately). I also flicked through P-Widdy's crack book and set about converting my foamies to a vedauwoo wrap. 

I had some kind words of encouragement from fellow jam heads and general deviants, and although still nervous, I stumbled onto the beach to find a lone fisherman toying with his rod. Although I left him to his practice and scuttled into my cave. Knowing that he was there had a calming effect. 

Once the four pads I managed to Sherpa down were in place, I did a bit of pilates and a couple of pull ups, and set about the rigmarole of taping up. After this I did a bit more pilates and reacquainted myself with the technicalities. This basically meant bashing a few bits with a towel and adding some tick marks with a fat stick of Chalk I'd nicked off of Seren.

First go. First meter felt really good, once into the kneebar pivot from feet first to burying myself head first horizontal in the roof.. Well the pump and scrabble kicked in a bit. However, I got to the crux and had a bash until the wheels came off and I dabbed while suspended by a solitary teacup jam.

The first go had done its job and the blood was pumping into all the nooks and crannies. I lay on the pads and thought about all the peeps who believed I could do this. I waited for the heavy breathing to subside, and then waited some more. 

This is an unabridged video of the second go. It's very long, and there is no Fiend to liven it with commentary. Also the lighting was a bit poor so you can't make out loads of the initial bit. However, here it is :

Arghh it's not embedding, the link is here

I wasn't smooth in starting and almost lost my kneebars getting into the roof. The jams through this bit are hard won and I kept slithering onward, expecting them to rip. Getting to the end of the constriction I was on two teacups bumping my left kneebar forward and it slid out. 

Slight wolverine moment, primal driving rage. Not sure how but next thing I know my right kneebar is buried in the roof and I feel solid. I can bump the right teacup to a high fist and twist out onto the left wall. 

My foot is on the first tick mark. Please don't skid off the barnacles. Next thing I'm extending into the rafters, open barring and feeling for help. Holds appear, I can pull into an upright squeeze position. The balcony at the end of the horizon is near. Slowly deliberately, I slide on a bum cheek. I'm there. 

Having a moment just to be happy I took in my surroundings. It was a still and humid day, the crag above was still wet from sea spray, not the dry hvs I soloed 6 years before. I could just plop of the ledge and call it done. The Tosheroon I had envisioned was a crack climb, pulling off the deck and climbing until at the top of the crack, or at least the crag. I probed out, up and further outwards trying to breach the soggy defences. A stretch off a fist gave a dry jug and I swam back into the crack where I could bridge and get some more jams (best weapons against the sogg).

A whimper and a grunt and it was over. The memories remain. 

The Tosheroon 7A+! 

(could be MXS 6b, might be easier although my support team scoff at this. Let's just say Hard Very Marvellous) 

Benllech hidden wall beach, around the corner. Needs a tide window based around a sub 2m low tide. No Chalk required, maximum skin protection advised. 

Start 8m in at a chockstone in the roof. Leave the ground and battle bravely to the light and the jutting balcony. If you get here, pat yourself on the back and feel free to hop down. Those mad enough may, like the first ascentionist, want to battle to the top of the crack, but unlike him, please have someone to rearrange your pads. 

Mark Dicken (23/8/21)