I can point to an exact time and place when I realised my climbing career was coming to an end.
It was mid-evening last summer, 10 or 11 months ago, and it was walking back along the grassy path that provides a 10 minute flat gentle stroll between The Range sea-cliffs and the carpark. The Range - and Porth Dafrach - had been as delightfully fun and enjoyable as ever, the quintessential Type 1 pleasures of crenellated zawns and headlands, undulating and intriguing rock, quirky and characterful lines. I had been less fun and enjoyable, as I'd started to run out of soft-touches to ledge-shuffle my way up, and not only had I backed off a few alluring routes, I'd started to run out of inspiration too, it felt like perhaps my passion there was waning...
I was with my friend S. S and I share a few things in common - a passion for interesting mini-adventures (he'd come up to climb after being inspired by "the dog stake"), a fair amount of diligence and attention to detail placing gear in such situations, and a puerile and vulgar sense of humour that usually results in a contest for how many cocks we can finger draw on each other's cars. And that's where the similarities abruptly end...S is very tall, lean, young, strong, fit (climbing and cv-wise), able-legged, constantly motivated and stoic about travelling around, seemingly unhindered by depression, sociable and affable and part of a vibrant climbing scene. All things I wish I was (well I could live without the "very tall" bit...), most of them out of my reach without vascular surgery / lobotomy / time machine.
The point is, we were chatting about routes and areas and climbs I'd done and been inspired by, and climbs he was going to do and was inspired by, and it became very obvious that he was on an exciting upwards trajectory through climbs, crags, challenges and exploration.... ... .. And I was winding down. I became acutely aware that in my main passion of trad cragging and sea-cliffs, whilst I had some prominent and deep-seated inspirations left, both minor and major, I was gradually working my way through those that were feasible, and was starting to run low on routes, crags, and determination for all the faff that comes with it - partners, conditions, travelling, uncertainties, intimidation, constantly trying to be on mental and physical form....
This feeling came pretty much out of nowhere - on a trip that was specifically about following inspirations and passions - and blindsided me. I can't recall feeling like that about climbing before. Climbing, for all it's internal and external difficulties, is an incredibly positive experience for me in a wide variety of ways (maybe that's why those difficulties are so frustrating, because they're inhibiting that positivity). To feel I was "running out" of the most important aspect of it for me was bewildering and felt like it was untethering me from myself.
What the fuck was I going to do after the next few challenges?? Where was it all going?? Why would I be climbing in a few years time?? If I'm winding down, what is the point in it all??
But.... Remember that bit about "incredibly positive experience in a wide variety of ways"?? It's genuine and that passion isn't easily quenched. So my mind started wondering and wandering onto other possibilities and what could keep me going. As well as constantly trying to explore around (and "tick" new crags instead of routes, all over the UK - although this is a desire that is constantly hampered by the fairly fruitless struggle to find like-minded partners), I came up with a couple of options:
Firstly taking a step back and focusing more on sport climbing and training and the physical side - relaxing into the logistical and psychological calmness of that approach, and hopefully occasionally springing out to do some awesome trad with the confidence from having a larger physical buffer (my buffer then was the size of a midge's foreskin, now it's actually inverted).
Secondly also taking a step back and focusing on the simultaneously exploratory, challenging, aesthetic and technical delights of bouldering in the UK (and elsewhere). Particularly the endless and endlessly varied Welsh bouldering which has consistently inspired me in the last few years.
So there I had it. There were options, there were inspirations, I would still keep climbing, I'd just change the focus a bit, and see how a fresh approach - particularly easing off on the mental and emotional challenges of pushing my trad climbing, and instead relishing in the physical challenges of pushing bouldering, sport, and training.
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A couple of months after this - whilst starting to do a bit more bouldering as my trad confidence had remained shaky during the rest of the summer - I pushed too hard in the wrong conditions and injured my left elbow.
Since then - concurrent with my idea to reassure myself and reignite my passion by focusing a bit more on the physical side of climbing - I've been near constantly injured (sometimes, like the LCL, without even pushing myself), for the last 8 months.
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