It's actually been a pretty ok year. On paper it looks utter dog shit of course.
Having to move house, stress at work, serious family illness and the day to day struggles of neurodiverse kids have meant the minor snatches of adventure have been gold dust. Both in value and scarcity.
To top it all off a niggling wrist flared up and then POp another pulley injury. Quite possibly the cortisol contributed.
So how's it been ok? Well I've found treasure in the small things, prior to temporarily disabling myself it was easy days bouldering with friends, daft mini adventures with the kids. Post injury it's the planning...
Next year I turn 50. I'm a little fed up with the last two years of injury, and have decided to do something about it.
All my life I've saught adventure, when the going got hard I specifically excersised to overcome the chosen objective, but there wasn't a culture training as we know it.
Consequently I'm ashamed to admit there's many gaps in my climbing game, and it's quite possible that as I'm no longer "just climbing lots" I'm cashing cheques I can't write ( flip I'm showing my age).
First I asked a physio to hold me accountable with bi monthly check ups.
Secondly I goal set; to get back to 7B and hopefully beyond by my birthday.
This means infiltrating my life with a culture of training. Not sure what that looks like yet.
Thirdly, as I can't climb yet, I need to have alternative adventures!
The target was Craig y llam, the site of my first ill fated coasteering session, and source of a massive niggle of unfinished business. I'm sure there's some projects waiting for me.
First thing I learnt was I've forgotten how to row. It may not have helped that the electric pump didn't quite have the guts to get it totally rigid, so the oar holes were flapping a bit.
It took quite a lot of whirligig type buffoonery to get round the fishing rock and to the cliff proper.
Some signs of DWS potential
Ahoy! An offwidth memory from 14 years ago
All I have to do now is work out how to pull on. Water seems deep enough and walls are all at least vertical. The chimney extends to an unknown depth within the cliff.
I didn't want to risk popping Binky trying to row to the back. It just occurred to me that I could have swum in, but I had nothing to moor to in any case.
Basically I need to visit in the company of fellow adventurers. Unfortunately being a very birdy cliff, this probably means next autumn.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 :
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.
