Midlands

Middling in the Midlands

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In 1991, my parents moved us from Kent to Birmingham. I’d have been about 7 so even if I did have any strong opinions (which, other than not wanting to leave my friends, I did not) I wouldn’t have been voicing them anyway.

I stayed here until 2002, when I left for University in Lancaster. I’d dabbled in climbing and other outdoor sports in that time, getting a bug for it by the time I was 18, but it was at Uni that I sunk heavily into climbing, not just as a hobby but as a lifestyle really.

In 2005, having failed my degree after spending far too much time going climbing, I returned to Birmingham and honestly, unless they’d moved us to East Anglia, there’s not many places in the UK that could’ve been worse. As someone now mostly obsessed with the idea of clambering around on small bits of rock, there is no rock to climb for miles around!

Only, maybe there was after all…

Biblin Under the Surface

A couple of years ago, my wife and I headed down to her hometown of Worcester to celebrate her 30th birthday. I’d intended to do some grand gesture but after one thing or another, we ended up going for a short family walk around the Symond’s Yat area, walking to King Arthur’s Cave.

As we walked back to the car park, there was a young lad sat on a bouldering pad. Now, it’s the old joke among the uninitiated that bouldering mats are largely elaborate sit mats but once you consider it for more than two minutes, it’s more than a little far fetched to lug one of these things around just to sit on. So it was unlikely.

Me being me, it probably took less than a second for me to start towards this unwitting fella and ask him about local bouldering with a quizical look on my face. It turns out there is indeed a crag within easy driving of my old family home in Birmingham! And it’s name is Biblins Cave.

Better still, I’ve already got the guidebook for the crag as well (although this is less surprising, given I own almost every bouldering guidebook for the UK). The only issue is access, which is denied outside of September-May. So all I needed now was a free day/evening in the summer to go check it out…

On the Road (for Money)

Immediately following my Pembrokeshire trip my diary exploded into action. Within the rest of the week, I’d had a half day of outdoor bouldering back home and two courses in the Beacon, my home wall.

Two days of courses in Liverpool followed on the following Monday, home again for a night, then down to Gloucester. It was nuts. Indeed, I drove back from 270 straight to my family camping on the Lleyn Peninsula, swapped vehicles ready for another day of outdoor bouldering on the Saturday, then went to join them for the night.

Other than four nights in the middle, I didn’t spend more than two nights in a row in the same bed for about a fortnight. [Incidentally, it’s part of why I’m documenting a single evening bouldering about two weeks later]. But this was my chance.

Staff at 270 during the training, knowing my background and experience (not to mention my recent exploits in Pembrokeshire) were a bit confused as to why I wanted to head to Biblins; especially once I went into my little rant about how dual-tex holds replicate polished rock, the worst type of rock to climb on. Still, I think they grudgingly accepted once I said I’d never been.

But it was more than that. Biblins was not established at all back when I lived in the Midlands. If it had, I’d have visited. A lot. It might’ve even changed the trajectory of my life back then. Now, I’m comforted by the way my life did pan out but still, there was an element of me going “erm, excuse me?! There’s a crag a little over an hour from my old house?!” It wasn’t as much exorcising demons, more wanting to see what I’d missed out on.

Other than the polish, it is indeed an excellent small crag. Reasonably sized and home to around 35 problems ranging from a Warm Up Wall 5+ to Ambition 8c, although heavily swayed in favour of harder climbs, it’s easy to see why Biblins is so popular. You know, other than being the only bouldering for miles. But honestly, even if it was smack in the middle of the Peak, it would still see some decent mileage.

When I arrived, a young couple were working The Bulge 7a. In hindsight, it might’ve been a bit of a dick move to jump straight on their project, seemingly with no warm up. After all, they weren’t to know I’d been running BMC FUNdamentals 3 (Dynamic Movement and Advanced Technique) all day. With their help for the beta, I promptly flashed it.

I’m not sure how much I influenced their decision to leave, they had been there a while and did seem pretty spent. Whether my flash had any bearing (probably not) I soon found myself with the place to myself. The downside was that I lost not only the extra pads but also any help with finding the routes.

Limestone caves of this nature – especially popular ones – have a tendency to be tough to figure out. Significant features in the rock are almost too abundant and climbs tend to be closely packed in. Meawhile, I was hamstrung by lines that primarily went straight up, or face a choice between protecting the start or the end but not both.

Still, it was a good little session in the end. Would I ever be keen to head back to Biblins? Probably not, it’s not my type of venue. Unless I was living in Birmingham, of course.

birthday tradition, Pembrokeshire

Utterly Pem-broken

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In hindsight, staying up until the early hours (even if Scotland were passing the ball around themselves casually valiently battling Brazil) before one last hectic day of first ascenting was probably not the wisest idea. Still, I wanted to get the previous post completed actually on my birthday, hence the late rush.

Did it matter in the end? Well, kind of. I did, indeed, get one more quality climb in, plus two more around the corner from the slab I’d been on the day before. Two more 6b and a 6c+. Or at least I think that’s how hard they were.

QUICK NOTE: Following the Pembroke trip, I became so insanely busy that it took several weeks to finish this post; indeed, to catch up on all the goings on in between. More on that in the next post.

The Final Line

The problem is – and it may seem like I’m getting my excuses in here but honestly, this is completely true – that by this point, in these conditions, I was finding it incredibly difficult to give even ballpark figures on grades. My skin was shot, my body utterly destroyed after several days of intense bouldering/rock moving and the heat was making it very difficult to gauge the effectiveness of the holds.

I’ve never been one to judge a climb’s difficulty based on how hard it feels for me to climb it and have always tried to be slightly more scientific based on the wall angle, hold size/type, complexity of moves and so on. Still, that’s all well and good but there’s always a feel element.

Pete Rocks finished off a sublime set of 18 lines! over the course of four intense days. Whether these climbs do indeed turn out to be firsts, or whether the grades are even vaguely accurate, is largely irrelevant.

There are bigger discussions to be had, surrounding documenting crags and ascents or leaving others to have that sense of discovery for themselves. Indeed, conversations came up after I’d begun to publicise my efforts, including this post from Ben Williams on ukclimbing.com which largely leaned into this point:

If it seems like a hippy gesture (in line with the yurt-living communities that have sprouted up across north Pembrokeshire) not generally to name or map these routes, then it’s only to encourage the exploration that seems in keeping with the nature of the place. Perhaps, also, the routes aren’t all that worth claiming. Moreover, the area is so beholden to the elements that nature has strong priority, and will claim these lines back before long

While I understand the approach, I know personally how much of a paradigm shift exploring new venues is for most climbers. The idea of simply seeing where things go is fine for the few but can be a very elitist attitude. That is not to attack Ben Williams, more to offer a counterpoint.

I have many years experience climbing all over Europe and beyond. I know full well the desire to have information before visiting, if only to know if it is worth the trip. There is an issue here in that Williams and my attitudes are mutually exclusive and that I possess the upper hand insofar as once I’ve publicised the crag, exploring becomes almost impossible. And for many areas, I take his point.

In this case, though, I could see something here that was more than Williams. I felt it required the word being spread. That and I had the support of the landowner, which I was determined to reciprocate.

The Best Crag Landowner Ever?

I’d like to dedicate a bit of time to Johnny, the owner of Hillfort Campsite and landowner for Garn Fechan. He truly is a wonderful man.

When we were there back in May, I told him I would be back to develop that crag of his. He was very keen, as you can imagine but I’m not sure he quite believed me. He certainly expect me back so soon.

Part of the reason I have always wanted to travel – and a big part of the reason for wanting to go to places less travelled, such as more obscure climbing destinations – was to be engrossed in local culture. Granted, Johnny is Irish but he’s still local to Pembrokeshire and he’s certainly a character. Over the short time I was there, we certainly became friends and I was incredibly grateful for his hospitality.

I stepped out of the car only to be presented with a beer almost instantly. With that one gone, I was given another (which I didn’t drink in the end, wanting to get some problems done that evening). Throughout my entire stay, Johnny was the most friendly, amenable and warm host I’ve ever known.

On my birthday proper, I wanted to repay at least some of the hospitality and offered him dinner. It’s a weird quirk that I can recall what I had for dinner on almost every birthday since 2010, thanks to the birthday tradition and so I wanted to do something a bit different. With me now staying in a static caravan, on the decking I noticed a barbeque pit and so offered to make burgers.

Easiest way, was to simply make a wood fire to cook on; harder to achieve but not something new to me, even if I was a little rusty. Soon enough, we had superbly cooked burgers, accompanied by sweet and sour peppers that left Johnny amazed at my apparent cooking skills (which largely result in this one single trick…).

I’d like to thank Johnny one last time and encourage any and all of you to take a trip. Hopefully it won’t be the last one I take.

For More Information

If you’ve enjoyed what you’ve read and are tempted to take a visit:

  • Full topos of all 18 of my lines are available on The Topo. Access information as well as full topos can be found here
  • Crag information, including a list of all possible climbs to date, is available at ukclimbing.com and I suspect new lines added by other will likely appear on here too
  • Bouldering in Pembrokeshire is currently documented in Eliot Stephens South Wales Bouldering guidebook. I’ve updated Eliot and hopefully my lines and the crag overall will appear in future editions of the guide
  • An alternative guidebook entitled South Wales Bouldering by Julian Sykes is also in pre-production at the moment and again, information on all lines was sent to this author as well. Hopefully lines will appear in here too
birthday tradition, Pembrokeshire

The Meaning of Life: Birthday Traditions Again

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Thinking back across the past sixteen years, it occurred to me that, while the original premise was to ‘spend my birthday in a different country every year’, the vast majority of those places were actually places in which I’d climbed before.

Only Val Daone (2010), Canada (2011), Wicklow (2017), Garmisch (2018), Helsinki (2019) and a couple of years staying local took place in areas I’d not visited previously; not many over such a time frame.

And so, considering I’d not been to Pembrokeshire until about a month ago, climbing here this year is oddly sticking to the essence of the tradition while drastically breaking it at the same time.

Finances and logistics had eventually forced my hand. My ever-wonderful wife had arranged time for me to head off months ago (I really did marry the right woman) yet finding people willing to come along and having somewhere suitable to visit has proved too difficult.

Instead, returning to Pembrokeshire rapidly gained traction. The teaser? The idea of developing an entire new crag…

Garn Fechan (or Hillfort Crag)

It was only five weeks ago that I had broken my Pembrokeshire duck, visiting with my family. I didn’t blog about it as it wasn’t really that relevant. I didn’t bring any climbing kit, deliberately as that wasn’t the point at all. It was a chance for us to go away as a family, not for me to play on my own.

So what did Em do? She managed to book a campsite with an entire crag on it. Not only that but – after extensive research – a crag that featured in no guidebook anywhere. The outcrop to the west was in but even that had only a small handful of lines and nothing of any note; merely a note saying “Pretty unexplored crag! Currently there is just info for climbs on the east face, however there is ample opportuity for further exploration and first ascents“.

I vowed to come back. I wasn’t expecting it to be so soon though.

My host, the campsite and landowner Johnny, is genuinely the salt of the earth. On hearing my plan, he has bent over backwards to accomodate me. In turn, I have made it a bit of a personal mission to do everything in my power to encourage as many people as possible to come and visit. In my defence, it’s because the place is actually incredibly good.

Is it the new Stanage? No, nor will it likely hold it’s head among the flagship crags around the Pembrokeshire National Park (not that I’m aware of what they are, as they’re mostly trad). To be honest, I’m not even sure it’ll hold it’s head against the other major bouldering crags in the area: Preseli and Mynydd Dinas. However, I only say that as I’ve visited neither yet. All I can say is that I really like this place.

I arrived late Sunday and leave tomorrow. Here’s what I’ve been up to over those few days.

Lighthouse Wall on the West Buttress

Sunday, I rocked up, met up with Johnny and almost instantly headed out to the crag. Even at the weekend (before the weather hit the headlines) it was hot in the day and evening temps were much more amenable.

When I’d gone to scout out the crag with the kids, the first area we’d stumbled across was a section of broken ground with some interesting lower sections. North facing, both the views and the shade were very welcome and so it seemed like a good place to start.

Indeed it was and while the climbs won’t be going down in history, it was nice to get the ball rolling with six quick lines on the board. None of them were particularly hard but the central line Who Nose 6a was of note. Tempting as it was to complete each and every link up, I’ve learnt to leave some crumbs for others to come and have a nibble at.

Not that they should need it. The West Buttress is indeed extensive, certainly on it’s southern side. Indeed, the Instagram post at the top of this post shows images taken on the Tuesday afternoon of much of the potential of this Buttress; certainly the largest of the three.

Yet, this was merely me getting started. From that first visit, my attention was always to be the central boulders lying below the crag proper; an aread I’d dubbed The Quartet.

The Quartet: Boulders In Their Truest Sense

As a boulderer, you cannot beat a true boulder. A standalone block of rock, that is topped out before finding a way down. You know, as opposed to a craglet or escarpment.

Sitting below the crag lie a small collection of just these types of rocks. And what has made them even more remarkable is that they are:

  • Just the right height
  • Just the right angle
  • Without any major ledges or outrageously large holds
  • With just enough to make them climbable

Yes, it’s nice to fine good, clean lines on good rock. But to find just the right challenge? Yeah, that’s the dream. And I’ve lived it.

Monday primarily saw me shuffling rocks around the floor until the evening. Knowing the middle of the day would be too hot to climb, I’d gone out in the morning to prep before coming back for life admin and rest and then returning in the evening to send hard. It worked a treat and Mwynhau 7b was the result. Such a striking line – even including a tough thumb press in the middle of an otherwise blank face – it almost made the trip worthwhile on it’s own.

Thankfully, it wasn’t alone. Tuesday, birthday, and the same tactic was employed. Chatting to my friends had added some pressure but thankfully, it all came good; ten minutes of England’s match against Ghana enough of a sedative to give me the rest I needed to get my second really good climb on the Quartet: Meaning of Life 7b.

I still have tomorrow morning. I HAVE to go back over there to at least collect my pads again! If all goes well, I’ll be heading up fairly early, before the sun heats it all too much. A few more lines would be nice to pull me off 13, but I’m not super fussed now. I’ve got three tough, excellent lines and various guidebook authors and local climbers have been informed too.

My only hope now is that I have indeed inspired someone else to come and add more. I’m optimistic though. I might even have to come back again.

Local Excursions

Powered Out? Oh Yeah!

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The problem with working away on courses is that work stuff doesn’t stop coming in while I’m in the middle of working. The upshot of that is that, once back, I spend a lot of time dealing with things in the week following and in this case, that was once back from Kendal.

Kendal had been fantastic and I’d managed a couple of really good evenings out at the crag while away (see my last post Work is Play, Play While Working) with a reasonable energy level throughout. Then life got in the way and aside from the occasional indoor blast, I didn’t get chance to get out for about two weeks. When I did, it seems the high energy levels I’d been feeling had waned slightly; but more on that later.

Powered Out

As is typical, the next play time was after work and while working over at Plas y Brenin for the day, I headed straight out into the Ogwen Valley. I honestly didn’t know what I’d wanted to try but as I drove down the valley, I suddenly remembered an old roadside project from a video old friend Jack Pearce had posted several years.

I’d tried it a while back but hadn’t got that far, though I did remember wanting to go back and give it another go. Maybe I was having an off day, maybe there was some sneaky beta I’d missed, it was worth another shot. While I did do a bit better, it still wasn’t great.

There’s a peculiarity with Welsh bouldering whereby the style of the climb often impacts on the accuracy of the grade. Let me explain with what I think has happened over the years. Bouldering in North is not new, with problems being put up, mostly by experienced trad climbers, since the late 90s. Those climbers had a very particular skill set: vertical, technical climbs that were of their age. Where they struggled was what has now become modern, steep, board-style climbs that rely more on power than precision.

The consequence of this is that some climbs can feel incredibly difficult for their grade (often if they are technical or sloping lip traverses) while others can feel incredibly soft (if they are steep or may result in a wild fall). While this one was climbed by Jack, it was apparently first done by Jon Ratcliffe many years before – unsurprisingly, given it’s roadside location – and was originally given 7a+. Yet I could barely link any moves at first.

All of this is said in the complete understanding that it might just be me. On that day, I might have simply been too tired, too weak and incapable of any climb at that grade. But this explanation makes me feel better and is certainly the case for several climbs in the area (The Big Smile, Nick’s Sexual Problem and so on) so I’m sticking with it.

I did make progress in the end, albeit from the stand start not the sit. And it has now gone on the List for the future.

Can I Still Kick It With the Steep Stuff? Oh Yeah!

Fast forward to Saturday gone and I was coaching a family of four on their first outdoor bouldering day. It was a great day, they were smiling almost from the moment they arrived to the second I left them with a nice litany of lines completed along the way.

It was one of those days that I was able to play too and while there’s not really anything left for me at Caseg Fraith, it was nice to very quickly repeat some of the old classics. It’s been a long time since I’ve actually done Caseg Fraith Arete 6b and it is indeed a classic; one of those that can be sandbag if you lack the requisite skills that in the past I’ve struggled to dredge up. Saturday, I sent it first time.

So too did I complete Ogwen Jazz, Oh Yeah and almost Boneyard too. More importantly, I felt I was moving well, felt strong and even managed to sneak in a missing link up from my ticks here by completing Skunk Yeah 7a/+. There’s even a sneaky hold one of the lads found that may mean a very eliminate and very hard variant for the future.

So it seems my Wind Power exploits may not have been all doom an gloom and that my efforts are indeed fluctuating quite a bit lately.

Train-Cap Is Working

All this leads nicely into my latest hair brained scheme designed to prevent me from doing the tried-and-tested method of periodised training plans: Train-Cap. The idea is fairly simple: spend a few weeks measuring how hard you work in any given week using RPE Points for each session, then feed the weekly average back in as a target.

It was always going to be a little speculative and the only way to really know if it would work would be to try it. I’m currently deep into Phase 2 and you know what? It’s working quite well! And that assessment includes my typical British understatement.

With one eye on my weekly effort points, I am now adjusting my sessions accordingly; working a bit harder when required and potentially easing off a little as needed (though the latter has yet to happen).

Moreover, chasing effort points over sends has certainly changed the value of my sessions. Prior to starting Train-Cap, that session at Wind Power would’ve been quite demoralising. The idea of going to get a quick win only to find myself shut down and leaving with nothing tangible to show for it would ordinarily be humbling and leave me in a mild sulk.

This time, though, I could comfort myself with the thought that I’d at least hit my effort point total. Yet I’m still obviously trying to get the send as well. It seems it’s become a win-win.

There is an issue around scoring individual sessions and it is proving difficult to be objective and unbiased, considering I know I’m aiming for points. But that’s part of the process, I’ll fix that in due course. For now, my Train-Cap programme is indeed doing exactly what it was designed to.

Lake District

Work is Play, Play While Working

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In many ways, it is a strange job I’ve carved out for myself. On the face of it, the hours aren’t too arduous, often becoming sporadic and regularly clumped together into several days of courses working away from home; especially over the summer.

But then just because I’m home, doesn’t mean I’m not working. Such is the nature of the recent courses I’ve been running, resulting in the past week being a largely empty diary but not a spare moment. Five days of BMC coach education courses in Kendal was fantastic but with my standards driving me to try and deliver the best quality I possibly can, it has resulted in a lot of time since staring at my laptop, at PowerPoint presentations that are being either slightly tinkered or having wholesale changes ready for next time.

This past month, Kendal hasn’t been in isolation either. In May alone, I found myself waking in Bristol, Pembrokeshire, Birmingham and then Cumbria, all of which resulting in exactly the same reflection and adjustment of my offering to clients.

Is any of this a complaint? Not in the slightest and I’ve commented to several people recently (and may have said on here previously) that my current life is the perfect mix of a throwback to the carefree years of my twenties and my button down, family life of my forties; the biggest advantage being that my 41-year old body can no longer sustain the level of intensity (nay abuse) that I put it through decades ago.

But I can manage a week of it! Indeed, that’s exactly what I did for the last week in May and given this blog is more focused on climbing exploration than personal circumstances, I still have plenty of excitement to share.

Home Away From Home

I was struck while away of the really clear and obvious parallels between Llanberis and Kendal. Both are iconic climber’s towns/villages, both nestle just outside one of the countries biggest National Parks (Eryri and the Lake District could both easily make an argument for being the biggest and best Park in Britain) and both provide a stable home for budding adventurers.

Both are gateways into the wonders their respective parks have to offer, yet also provide easy access to other, more local areas that many would neglect. Both bridge the gap between the urban and the truly rural (even if Llanberis is very much the rural Welsh version and thus far smaller).

Both are places I’ve called home in the past as well; well kind of. Technically I lived in Lancaster between 2002-05 for my undergraduate degree, an hour down the road, but in reality, a vast proportion of that time was spent around the South Lakes. Thankfully, this time, I could reside in the town of Kendal itself, thanks to friend and colleague Andy McVittie. I cannot offer enough gratitude for his hospitality in providing me a flat for the week; somewhere that is exactly the type of place a 20-something me would’ve lived.

One crag I would doubtless have frequented had I lived in this flat is an old haunt I did indeed regularly frequent at the turn of the century: Woodwell.

Woodwell has several sectors, one of which is named O’ert Road in a nod to the distinctive accent of the north west of England. The issue for me, though, has always been access, which was specifically denied while I lived up this way, meaning I never managed a visit. Access was opened up in recent years, in time for my last visit to Silverdale back in 2022 but with Tess in tow, I was still out of luck thanks to no dogs allowed at the crag.

Well not this time!

Woodwell O’ert Road was the one place on my hit list that week that I was desperate to visit and it felt so good to do so. Ticking off Angel Deelite 7a really was the icing on the cake, even if it did require a tougher beta to keep me upright and remove the worry of landing on my head on a large rock.

That being said, I’d already managed to get some climbing in on the way north in the first place. Wanting to make the most, I’d decided to leave earlier on the Wednesday and stop somewhere in Lancashire, making the most along the way. The obvious choice was Craig y Longridge but a south facing, open gritstone edge in the blistering heat didn’t appeal. Instead, I’d read through the guidebook to find a shady crag, only to change my mind at the last minute and head to Anglezarke.

Everyone I’d spoken to since has raised an eyebrow at my choice of venue but honestly, Anglezarke was a regular haunt for us back in the day and I wanted to go back. There was no bouldering there then – there still isn’t much – but it offered tree cover and enough to scratch that itch.

What I had forgotten – or rather, had neglected as I definitely knew this – was that Anglezarke is a big swamp in the bottom of a quarry, with the moorland above carrying any wind right over your head. So yes, I had a little shade (that said, the one area with the problems wasn’t shaded after all) but I was accompanied by a swarm of midge that revelled in having a nice, fresh person come visit for lunch.

Sick Of All This Rubbish

A couple of days in, I’d become quite sick. Like really sick. Very unlike me yet totally my own fault, having not dealt with an issue immediately like I should’ve done, instead leaving it for later; exactly my behaviour in my twenties!

The result was an incredibly difficult day of teaching, followed by a lost evening. While I’d never have planned it this way, a night off from climbing wasn’t necessarily the worst thing and did allow me to recover for a night of bouldering with John Kettle. John and I have often been in touch over the past however many years and while I’d not exactly class us as close, John is always there when our paths cross.

I’d told him I was up, asked if he was keen for a catch up and he told me of a new crag he’d been developing at the top of the Kirkstone Pass, near Ambleside. I was keen to check it out (you can too, clicking here) and was glad I did, having a great evening.

John had found some absolute gems, with The Kilnshaw Press 5+ being particularly outstanding and worth the trip on it’s own. However, regular readers will know my currency tends to be in the 7s and while some of the taller slabs didn’t appeal as much, the one jutting prow was simply too aesthetically pleasing to be ignored.

I honestly felt I could’ve beaten him to it but I think part of me was holding back. Perhaps I’m kidding myself and it was only ever going to take me longer than John but I felt very close and did indeed send on the effort straight after him.

The road leading up the pass is literally named The Struggle and John had used this as a theme for the names of the problems. He asked me for name suggestions, having already got a climb called The Struggle Is Real 7a, and my brain simply chucked out The Huggle. I may not have claimed the coveted first ascent but I left my mark in some way. And the line was absolutely brilliant.

Local Excursions

Hot Streak Ended By Hot Day

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It was going to happen eventually but that never makes it any easier. After a slew of hugely successful days, packed with strong sends, I’ve finally come up against the rule of thirds.

The Rule of Thirds – told to me by friend and noted climbing coach Ben Brooks – says that a third of your sessions are great, a third are terrible and a third are ‘meh’. And I know this, I’ve experienced it plenty over the past 25 years (long before Ben told me) but honestly, it’s the type of thing you only remember when you have a bad session.

Which is exactly what happened this week.

No Hitching A Ride This Time

Now that the weather has turned, and with work having calmed right down (probably not coincidentally), I’ve been making the most and getting out a fair bit. Granted, not on Monday though.

Still, after recent visits to Northern Soul 7b and Cromlech Roof Crack Flake Start 7b+ – both with much success I might add – getting out again this week was more of a continuation of that trend.

The company may have been the same but the venue this time was different; trekking all the way over to Dolwyddelan to Rhiw Goch for a resumption of hostilities with Ride the Wile Smurf sds 7b+. With all the moves now dialed and (mostly) completed, there was reason to be optimistic.

Or so I thought. Things started slowly but well, filming another Instagram video and getting in the zone. Only once I started getting into the swing of things, I simply felt drained.

I couldn’t get my head around it, I’d done everything right. I’d had some snacks, I’d been drinking squash, I was fit and firing. So why was I struggling so much? It was frankly a little soul destroying.

It was only after quite a while that I realised my issue. The thing to remember, at this point, is that I have next to no natural insulation; I am incredibly slight. In winter, this results in me spending months in a thermal (I change them, I don’t wear the same one) and often in multiple layers. But in summer, when the sun beats down as it did this week, it results in me suffering in the sun.

My conclusion was that I was simply sun-battered. Had we gone somewhere else, somewhere shaded and sheltered, I may not have suffered as much. As it happens, Rhiw Goch is indeed a sun trap: great for a winter day but not at noon when it’s hot.

Still, such is the nature of the rule of thirds and I did get the pleasure of seeing Aidan tick off his first outdoor 6c, not to mention hanging out at a crag on another glorious day. After all, a bad day in the mountains is generally better than most other days.

A Quick Note On My Training Plan

I will finish on a slightly more uplifting point. A couple of posts ago, I declared I was embarking on a new training plan: Train-Cap.

Three weeks in and it has actually proven very successful. With three weeks of data behind me, I’ve got an average Train-Cap of 31 with a pretty random spread of activities, as was to be expected. But already, it is driving me to adjust what I do, based on what I’ve managed this week and what will likely happen over the next couple of days.

Yesterday proved a good example. After finishing my session at the Indy and with little to no opportunity to get outside to rock with my available time, I opted to stay. Usually, I woud’ve simply ticked off the new climbs but with them being all fairly easy, I knew it wouldn’t get me the desired points.

So, despite my staunch feelings, I decided I’d go on the gym equipment. I’ve got my Foundation Strength exercises to guide me – very useful – and despite being a bit bored, it worked a treat. Time-efficient training indeed.

Local Excursions

Spring In My Step

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At the time of my last post, I’d just finished the first week of my new Train-Cap Plan. The idea – during this Phase at least – is simple: go do whatever I’m keen for, whenever I can, and simply rate an overall RPE for each session as either 3, 6 or 9. Total up for the week, average it out over the course of several weeks and you have your Train-Cap: an idea of how much effort your body can sustain.

That first week concluded with a sub-par session on Friday (circumstances didn’t allow me to pick up the points I was hoping for) and the week finished at 21 points. This week? Yeah, it’s still only Thursday and I’m on 39… Thirty nine!

But, despite my lethargy while typing, clearly my body can handle it. Good job, too, as I’ve had two great bike rides and two outstanding outdoor sessions this week. It seems this plan is, erm, going to plan.

Project 1: Northern Soul sds 7b

Work usually quietens down this time of year and 2026 has been no exception. I don’t tend to do too much outdoors (though I can run outdoor bouldering sessions, hint hint) so tying the quiet spell in with some personal climbing makes total sense.

So despite my two-wheeled exercise on Saturday, on Monday I decided to make the most of the good weather and a clear diary and head out. I didn’t have long; roughly the time between school drop-off and pick-up so wanted something nearby. I also hadn’t arranged anything with anyone, so was going alone.

Consulting the List suggested Northern Soul sds 7b would be a good option. I’ll let this little video set the scene:

The post script kinda gives the game away a little. After being so close in the past, suddenly I was on the ball and did indeed get the send.

It didn’t come easy though! There’s another video below but don’t let that fool you. The major element you don’t get from the send video is how poorly I hit each hold. Nothing came together, every hold was proper skin-of-my-teeth stuff but once I’d stuck the first sidepull, I simply wasn’t letting go. It was dry fire off the holds or get to the top. No other choices available.

The emotion at the end spoke volumes; literally. I’m not one for making loud noises lightly but when such a gutteral roar comes over me, it’s coming out. I’m not entirely sure why but the send felt quite emotional, as if it felt like a bit of a right of passage. Again. I seem to say this often. Still, clearly it seemed to stir something deep inside me.

Project 2: Cromlech Roof Crack Flake Start 7b+

I’ll gloss over Tuesday and the ludicrous idea that I’d ride my road bike – complete with it’s lovely high gearing that meant I could overtake a car on the way to Welsh lessons – up over Clegir on the way home. I wouldn’t say I’m bike fit at the moment but even so, it is incredibly rare for me to get off and walk. This time, I simply couldn’t handle the steep uphill. It nearly broke me, for the third time in four days.

Wednesday was a much needed day off (from exercise, I’ve rarely been so grateful to work for a break) but some this morning (Thursday) there was another gap and more sunshine. This time, I had company too.

My school-hours-bouldering-session pattern continued unabated and once again, I headed up into the Pass. I did make one small miscalculation, not realising my wife was working and thus, I’d need to take the dog with me; meaning the Cromlech wasn’t ideal. Still, we made the best of it.

I wanted the two sends, finishing up both the Roof Crack proper and the Original finish but I was satisfied to get one of them; especially given the effort it took. I cruised through the early moves, kept feet on to join in the stand start but then had an epic getting my feet sorted, crunching forcefully while I hung from bent arms. I’m sure there are coaches out there that would tell me to have straight arms. They’re wrong, sometimes it’s more complicated than that.

Anyway, somehow I clawed my way to the daylight at the edge of the cave, determined not to have to do this again to get the tick. Now on the relative sanctuary of vertical rock, two crucial aspects suddenly dawned on me: that the exit is remarkably tricky to get right; and I really should’ve rehearsed the end of the climb before this moment…

I’ve no idea where I summoned the strength to cling on but even once I’d climbed myself into a trap, I managed to reverse three moves, rest on the good holds at the lip before adjusting, going again and getting over the lip. With Tom yelling encouragement, I stopped, leaning against the wall and panting, waiting to catch my breath before wandering off the top of the boulder.

I’m not proud of it but just as with Northern Soul, the emotion kicked in and as I completed the last hard move, let out the most colossal expletive that must’ve resonated throughout the valley. Not my finest moment but symptomatic of how much these climbs seem to mean to me lately. This one was partly through sheer exhaustion, coupled with the mental exertion of not giving up. In hindsight, a video would’ve been brilliant.

Sadly, I seemed to have one last decent effort in me which I fluffed before powering out. One out of two ain’t bad! Besides, it leaves me with another option for another day.

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My First Training Plan (after 25 years)

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I was going to start this post with the phrase ‘as time rattles on’ but it’s not actually been that long since my last post! Yes, the year seems like it’s simply disappearing into the past but in other ways, it appears to be fairly steady. Oh the paradox of time.

It’s funny how I’ve managed to get myself in a situation where time needs to be managed. For work, for home life, for play, every day seems to now require some sort of management that seems oddly inescapable but still ‘necessary to be productive’. My diary seems largely empty [strong nudge: please book your coaching session] yet I know ‘spare time’ will be a completely alien concept.

Wasn’t that the whole point of that Training Plan I was on about creating? A way to manage my leisure time, my training time or my time to climb to allow myself to be able to actually get on – and potentially succeed – on the climbs that I had in mind. A travesty that I can’t live like I once did, flying by the seat of my pants and still succeeding but GTFUT I guess: Grow The Fuck Up Time.

My First Training Plan (Kinda)

The unexpected thing for me is that I’ve actually done it! Although, in typical fashion, I haven’t just created a Training Plan for myself, I’ve created a whole new system…

There’s no way I could possibly claim to have created anything completely new when it comes to physical training. There are countless plans available out there, from all sorts of people, with every one largely following the same patterns. They’re often very regimented, with a view to making you get better, stronger, faster or whatever.

Only I’m not really interested in getting better. I’ll get better if I actually get to go and do things; this isn’t so much a training plan as it is a time management plan. Only it’s not, it’s somewhere in between.

Train-Cap is a concept that measures your output in terms of perceived effort, totalled up over the week, before feeding that back in to yourself to give you something to aim for. It’s all built around the idea that if I get to go climbing, I want to go climbing. I DON’T want to have to say “Sorry, Tom, I can’t come out to play, I’ve got to do my gym session tomorrow”; a gym session I never wanted to do in the first place and that I will only sign up for to allow me to go playing.

The link for the concept is here. Go have a read if you’re interested in the particulars. This site is more about my own personal journey and experiences (kinda a more narcissistic version of Prowess?) so I’ll keep this about my own climbing. Crucially, I’ve actually written myself a plan, which is, in of iteself, already a bit win.

The Calibration Phase

The first 7 weeks or so are what I’ve dubbed the Calibration Phase. During this period of time, all I have to do is exactly what I’d like to do: go climbing, do some training, go on the bike, go swimming, whatever it is, just go out there and do my stuff.

This is very deliberate. I know full well that any sort of structured, periodised training plan won’t be worth the paper it’s printed on. I’ve never been one for sticking to plans like that and within a week, circumstances will have changed and within two, it’ll be pointless and out of date.

What I am good at doing is creating flexible, adaptable plans. Plans that I can have roughly floating around behind me that can effectively guide me to bigger and better things. No seismic changes, small incremental changes. And it’s been working already.

Fridays have been designated as my changeover day and this was another tactical move. With my weekly appearance with Anglesey Adventure Club continuing for the foreseeable, it gives me an opportunity to either go hard and pick up any missing points (within reason) or take a night off and rest up. Effectively, I’ve got 9 points to play with.

It’s already made a difference. Friday gone, I knew I was shy of my desired weekly points (yes, I know it’s calibration phase but being as I designed the system, I knew what I wanted to aim for) and as such, tried my best to collect some more by having a harder session.

And almost as justification for my very flexible approach, it didn’t happen. Still, I’m optimistic on this one.

Delamere

One question I’ve been left with is whether to include exercises that use different muscle groups and energy systems (like really obviously different, like biking or running). Do they mean I can’t have a tough climbing session? Or are they different enough that it matters not?

The answer has been semi-answered yesterday with a day-trip/weekend adventure to Delamere Forest. My dad left on the Thursday to head over, I took my mum and the kids (the wife was away visiting friends for the weekend) on the Saturday and the four of them stayed over while I came back Saturday evening.

What a place! I was so taken with it, I was genuinely made up. Cycling is one of the activities I have always done but took a hiatus through my twenties before having children got me back in the saddle. It’s a great family activity and reminded me how much I love being on two wheels.

The other revelation is that I actually really enjoy blue runs. I’m not a fan of red runs, they’re a bit technical for me, but living in Llanberis and working at the Brenin, everyone seems to see red as an entry point. In the past, that’s put me off slightly but not now.

Delamere is blessed with a little stack of blue sections. They’re small, yes, but plentiful and very enojyable; thrilling enough to get me really psyched but not enough to freak me out. Genuinely, I loved every inch of them.

As the caption suggests, after going round with the family and then having a solo run quickly, followed by enough time to relax a little before a drive home, I was pretty battered. Improving my cardio fitness has been on my radar for a while and this certainly made a dent!

So I’ve logged it. Brutal. But certainly heading in the right direction at last.

New Years Resolutions

Happy New Year: Spring 2026

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For those who don’t know, my new year runs from when the clocks go forward, giving a much better point of the year for resolutions and goal setting. There is also a Solstice when the clocks go back. For more information, click here.

Season Review

Well that was the season that passed me by! A combination of finishing rehab and recovery and horrendous weather have meant that actual rock climbing didn’t happen until really late in the season and combined with a busy season of work, it all seemed to blur past.

Put it this way, from the start of the season to Simon’s visit in February, a meagre 9 Instagram posts went up; and two of them were advertising for a course down in Oxford!

That’s not to say nothing happened. I started both aggregates but after the Beacon’s latest redevelopments, the sheer quantity of climbs they were putting up – especially combined with the Indy aggregate too – simply became too much to handle. Even with a percentage to aim for, it quickly became untenable; I had to choose.

It was all going great and at one point, I was agonisingly close to getting a couple of 7c+ only to suffer an overuse injury to the deltoid on my left arm. Another enforced break, a missed opportunity and a lack of ability to get physio. Not ideal.

Looking back, I’m honestly tempted to simply write this season off. There have been high points, such as being only five climbs from completing the entire mushroom at one point, but overall, they’ve been few and far between.

That being said, the season has begun to turn towards the end. A weekend catching up with Simon in the Peak District was outstanding; both in terms of climbing performance, getting the ball rolling and for my mental state. A couple of days out with Tom since may not have yielded much in the way of sends (thinking about it, any sends) but again, have helped to turn the tide and lay the foundations for what will hopefully be a successful summer. And then an albeit all too brief visit from Ben Brooks over the past couple of days have again been great for all the same reasons.

And of course, there is the far more significant achievement for my wonder-wife passing her midwifery degree and now going into employment in the NHS. I’m incredibly proud of her, what she’s managed to achieve and the career she has decided to dedicate herself to now. If supporting her to finish has cost me a winter season (and it was by no means the only factor) it is a sacrifice I would happily have made.

I stand by this system of seasonal goal setting but I will come back to Goodhart’s Law. These goals are there to guide and challenge me. They are there to help me progress. Does that mean I have to fully dedicate myself to them regardless? Not in the slightest; life gets in the way. But it will now be interesting to see how they went.

Previous Season Goals

  • Compete in both aggregates, aiming for 88% completion
  • Conduct some foundation strength training, as regularly as possible
  • Swim/Bike/Run, as regularly as possible
  • Maybe climb outside occassionally, so as not to start again from scratch (potentially beginning work on another Seven 7s film)
  • Finish one book and get it published

How Did It Go?

As mentioned, Beacon aggregate started well but dwindled quickly and once it started to slide, motivation fell away quickly. That’s not a sleight on the Beacon, not at all, it was more a wonderful real-world example of motivations shifting.

Indy aggregate on the other hand worked very well. It’s helped strengthen me, helped push me and saw me in a respectable 9th place. The only thing I would say is that I feel I’ve actually performed better this season than in the year I won; a wonderful example of why using external factors as motivation has it’s flaws.

Talking of strength, though, the Foundation Strength stuff simply hasn’t happened. Again, it’s all linked in with motivation and as much as I want to, I simply haven’t. I’ve tried to make it as easy as possible for myself and it still hasn’t happened.

I still need a check up with my physio for this shoulder and now that things are picking up financially, I will hopefully get this booked in soon. From there, hopefully my rehab will nudge me into it. Furthermore, I’m planning on breaking my duck and writing myself a training plan for this summer, so perhaps it’ll happen then. Time will tell.

Swim/Bike/Run has equally simply not happened. Biking can be excused, given the horrendous weather for the past six months. Likewise, while I’m happy – even prefer – running in the rain, I can totally get why I haven’t. But not swimming? Other than not having the funds, I probably should’ve gone a few times.

My cardio fitness is still shocking and needs addressing. I don’t know how I’ll do this, it’s not going to be easy but hopefully I can carry that over to next season.

Finally, the book. I’ve switched over to a different project now (I’m deliberately keeping it under wraps to avoid setting false expectations) but progress has been made! I so desperately want to get one of them published and will try my utmost to push this through as a priority.

Next Season Goals

I’m oddly optimistic about this season. With talk of us moving away from North Wales at some point, it’s becoming apparent that I’d like to finish off some of the last remaining projects I’m psyched for before I do. It won’t be for a while but that doesn’t mean I can simply wait; now is the time to start working hard to finish off the last few climbs.

I’ve got a strong List, I’ve got a strong plan and hopefully, will now have a bit more time as well. Top Ten Yearly Average to match or better last year sounds feasible but it’s not going to be easy, as the last few years have shown. Plus, you know, hopefully I’ll get away at least a few times this season.

  • Write Training Plan (with non negotiables and Foundation Strength)
  • Top Ten Yearly Average of 7b or higher
  • Physio visit and get healthy again
  • Improve cardio fitness, potentially through Swim/Bike/Run
  • Finish and publish a book

Let’s see how this goes. Writing off last season makes sense, going for a blank slate. Likewise, trying to compare to last summer is setting myself for a massive failure. I have a good feeling. Let’s see what happens next.

Happy New Year!

Local Excursions

Never Rains But It Pours (But It Dries Quickly Too)

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As is oddly quite typical this time of year, once you escape from the semi-dry cocoon on the Welsh mountain house as Spring starts to emerge, days out tend to come thick and fast. The rain may have been relentless since October (no word of a lie, it’s been a horrendous winter for weather) but once it stops, and with psyche high to make the most, sessions tend to come in little fits.

So it has proven again this year. While I may not have the quantity of sends yet – more on that in my end-of-season post coming soon – the number of days out has certainly risen exponentially; a term many of us haven’t heard since the Covid years.

Riding the High but Not Quite the Wild Smurf Yet

Shortly after Llyn y Gadair, I had a message from Tom again. Heading out again? Yeah, go on then, I’ve got a free Friday daytime. Where? Oh Rhiw Goch? Yeah, it’s been a while, I’ve got a project there…

It’s funny how as you age, the gaps between visits to the same venue can get larger yet can feel like no time at all. I had to look it up: July 2022 was the last visit I could find. And yet, surprisingly for me, I could remember what I had in mind from four years ago.

That time, I’d managed to get the link from the sit of Ride the Wild Smurf into Gap of Rohan at 7a and now, it was time to finish up the stand start. Only issue is that is bumps the grade up to 7b+.

Still, it was a good session, progress made and all things considered, other than the toll it took on my skin, I had a great time; preparing for a send on another visit. The only issue was that it was the day before the event of the season…

The Indy 500 (Or Rather The Indy 38)

Which brings us to the “event of the season”: the Indy Open competition. Those of you who know me personally may be surprised to hear me wax poetic about a climbing competition; it’s not exactly my forte. Yet that in of itself probably says a lot about the ‘comp’ itself.

I don’t wish to dismiss the Indy’s competitive nature and the format is certainly very good, with much rivalry. Yet, to me, it feels less of an out-and-out competition and more a social event with prizes and a podium. Beacon’s Best in the West seems more typical of a modern climbing competition but I feel that is what lends the Indy Open it’s charm.

Indy has always prided itself on being more of a community venture than a commercial one and you can feel that on the day of the Open as much as any other time. Beta and laughs are shared in equal measure, staff and regulars welcome newbies and old faces like they’ve been there all along. I go as much for the atmosphere as the climbing.

Alas, there are still climbs to attempt and now in the vets category, I was optimistic. As the work video above shows, I wasn’t paricularly trying to compete with anyone else and with 38 climbs to complete, I’d set myself the target of 30.

I could – nay, should – post an entire post about the Open on it’s own but alas, I’ve run out of time and this will have to suffice. Massive thanks to Indy and you can check out my personal reflections below.

“Sickeningly Talented”

We move on to this week and Wednesday. Or more accurately, Tuesday where the rain lashed down and my heart both palpitated and sank as I desperately considered options for the following day. Three people had booked places on my Teaching Outdoor Bouldering Workshop but if things didn’t change – and the forecast didn’t present optimism – I’d have to add ‘drowning’ to my risk assessment.

As I fretted around the house, my wife (who is not known for being massively complimentary to me) told me to relax. “You’re sickeningly talented at this” was her comment. I’m not sure whether it’s a good thing I was quite taken by it.

Turns out, though, she was right and despite playing it slightly safe by heading to the Cromlech in order to enable a quick getaway and other than one brief hailstorm, I did indeed pull it out the bag. We had a great day, covered everything required and made some great contacts along the way. I’ve even managed to relearn the sequence for the Roof Crack too.

Bridging the Gap

The next day and a half were taken up by the Mountain Training Provider Conference. I must admit, I’m often quite apprehensive whenever I go back to the Brenin but I needn’t have been. It was a great couple of days.

Moreover, it gave me a chance to hang out with a couple of good friends: Msrs Brooks and Morgan-Gray. And while BM-G soon departed home to run a course the next day, Brooks stuck around. What was initially a weekend became a night before becoming simply an afternoon but even that did give us chance for a few hours catch up.

It was amusing as after I bundled him into the van, vaguely showed him the location in a guidebook and drove him to the middle of nowhere before presenting him with a pad, pointing him in the direction of the crag and then listing each problem (with grade) in turn, Ben referred to me as a guide. Considering we’d just been discussing the roles of coach, instructor and guide, it seemed odd to have one of Britain’s best coaches ‘guiding’ another to a bouldering venue.

I coached him a little, too. Much less than he made out, though. Granted, we’d picked Rhiw Goch specifically as I wanted another stab at Ride the Wild Smurf sds and I knew it would be dry, but also because I knew Brooks would find some success there – all of which is part of the coaching role – but I offered a tiny suggestion that turned out made a massive difference.

Ben was made up with his send of Gap of Rohan 6c, even repeating it for the camera. He climbed incredibly well and while I still need to return to finish RtWS, I left feeling incredibly buoyed.

All of which brings us to today: New Year’s Eve. Still, while it was tempting to skip straight to my typical end of season post, it occurred that too much had happened of note towards the end of this season simply to skip over it all.

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