Spanner In The Works

When is a trad climb not a trad climb?

....when it was protected by a thin, drooping, tied off spanner, and is now protected by an inch-thick, drilled and vertically cemented spanner in the same place. Thus turning an iffy situation into designer danger. I'd backed off Spanner Wall 13 years ago, a combination of approaching from the left (which made the crux a groundfall if the then-dubious spanner spung) and a warmish day. This time I approached from the now described right hand crack, placed the side-runners as high as I could without moving an inch off the line, and then wombled out to discover you could bivvy off the spanner. I enjoyed it anyway, particularly calming down and cooling down before the crux reachover. Has something been lost by this incarnation of the fixed spanner, though??

A nice bit of gay-legging on an underrated gem at the Pits.

I also enjoyed this other route - quite good value for ledge-shuffling! This day started grimly as early queasiness had me curled into a ball waiting for the prochlorperazine to kick in, but when it did I felt okay for an entirely afternoon, and although I was in ultimate bumbling mode, it was pleasant mileage.


When is a sport climb not a sport climb?

Delicious and nutritious, and a daintily smaller portion for the sportclimbing anorexophile. Best seasoned with a portion of battery acid or preferably arsenic for such climbers who then slag off a specific person's weight / appearance as part of a serious debate, and think they can get away with apologising because "they didn't know the person had medical issues" and being "sorry for being childish", instead of apologising for being cruel, overly-personal, and utterly fucking obnoxious. NB the target was not me in this case.

....when it was protected by this, until good old Seb took a spanner to it to tidy up the crag a bit. No doubt back in the day this was lined up along with rusty pegs, frayed tat, and coathanger hangers for that quintessential Great British Sport Climbing experience. The ceaseless tide of consumerist climbing has had a frothy silver lining in that this is now protected by nice shiny screw-in ring-bolts. This was down at Moat, the hip new place to be dangling off a bolt and queuing for routes. To be fair it is lovely down there, the friendly cat loitering around Cressbrook, the lurking fishes, the mum duck and 3 ducklings paddling by, a swan coming into land like a Hercules transporter crashing in the river, flocks of sheep moseying on down to the far bank. At some point I'll actually be able to start my own redpointing there.


When is a climber not a climber?

On the outside, I look like Fiend. Sometimes, on the inside, I feel like this.

....when he's got more fucking spanners in the works than a ramraid on Halfords tool department. Since last update's debacle, the status quo of "bad head, improving elbows" crystallised into a nice clear plan: More falling practise to fix the former, more brutal limestone to take advantage of the latter, both of which to gain fitness and confidence to get out there and tackle The greater Range and suchlike.

Instead it's panned out like this: Digestive relapse cancelling some days and making others unreliable, regular partners not interested in the lime, Purkle not able to belay me on falling practise, joining in the exclusive and elitist Peak Sport Climbing FB page to find 90% of people only want to go to the Tor, getting to the lovely Moat Buttress twice with some of the other 10% but only in teams of 3 so getting almost nothing done, getting out on a mileage day with Purkle to find the easier mileage was shit and the harder inspiration was unbelayable, getting back to that harder inspiration that I've wanted to for 13 fucking years and feeling too emotionally drained to commit to the moves before watching (well, half-watching) my climbing partner "just go up to feel what those holds were like, just out of interest" and piss all over it like it was a trivial warm-up, finally getting out on a mutually acceptable day with Purkle, ending up at Harpur with a million mileage options and perfect weather and walking away due to migraine. Etc.

The digestive relapse, after steady improvement over the winter and a notably "clear" March has been demoralising. Being mildly but chronically ill with something that very directly affects my moods, preys on my personal squeamishness, is unpredictable and has no obvious cause for reappearing....is grim. On the rare days where I haven't had some issue and felt digestively normal, the clarity and freedom of my mindstate has been utterly obvious, and highlights how much this affects me. To try to deal with this, I've contacted a local nutritionist AND naturopathic doctor for consultations.

In the meantime, I'm trying to do what worked for me last summer: high intensity, relatively high effectiveness (compared to Easy Trad that makes me weak, if very happy), low stress, low logistical committment sport-or-similar stuff. Looking through the haze onto the positive side of things, at least I am in an infinitely better location to make the most of that this year...