Distilling it down...

If the pleasure of a whole single route is not specific enough, how far can one refine and distill down the experience?? 

Starting...the day...

A quick hit single day trip down to the Lakes, sandwiched between two days of relentless summer showers, the only evidence of which was one tiny 18" long seepage streak on an otherwise bone dry crag in fresh breezy conditions. A clear plan with Adam, easy back up options, a reasonable start and a triple shot of coffee crammed into one Costa Express Regular size cup. Some high quality techno and a relatively lack of Lakes bumbly driver queues got us to Bowderstone Crag in good time.

Distilling it further...the crag...

A singlularly impressive buttress that does for harder trad what it's fallen sibling The Bowderstone does for harder bouldering. I'd never been before as it's not exactly the Borrowdale venue of choice for the low-extreme leader, but Wheels Of Fire had been inspiring me for a couple of years now, whilst Adam had the monumental choice between an E7 6b with F7a/+ climbing and very spaced gear, or an E6 6c with F7c/+ climbing and no less than 18 (!) pegs. Scary or sporting? At least my choice was simple, although it took a while to get over the badly timed caffeine crash and get on with it.

Distilling it further...the route...

Two pitches, the bounding corner of the lower half of Hell's Wall, and the shield of rock overlooking it above. I'd seen a few comments on UKC about doing the top pitch only, but of course I wanted to do the whole lot in one go. 30 minutes later hanging on badly placed wires in the god-awful steep, slippery, painful groove perched just near enough to the easy slab below to guarantee twatting it on rope stretch from the awkward and exhausting moves, I could see why people only did the top pitch, given it's accessible by 2 minutes of scrambling. Could I deal with the horror and shame of not getting the full tick?? Well why not do the classic top pitch and see how it feels??

Distilling it further...the pitch...

The belay - already tested from Adam warming us up on Vahalla, another miserably awkward thrutch up a steep slippery corner, with possible the worst move in Borrowdale as the crux - offers a good launching pad and a great view along the hanging wall and the gibbering leader i.e. ME. It seems to be steady climbing to a slabbifying lip and then a sheer crux above. Instead it turns out to be continuously technical climbing even to get out there, in retrospect the high standard of climbing (not a move below 5b) is very good, but at the time it feels like I'm in at the deep end and doggy paddling for my life. But I fiddle in enough gear and contrive some sort of shake-out perched above the void.

Distilling it further...the situation...

I guess the shake-out must have been good because I was there for a typically long time. Calming down, cooling down, fiddling in more gear - 5 bits in the seam to the right of me. On photos on UKC I could see the gear some way right of the crux on one rope, and assumed there must be something on the left rope much closer to the crux.... No, no there wasn't. Sure the gear was good but testing it would involve getting a good view of the Hellish crux a long way below. On with the climbing then.

Distilling it further...the set-up...

The crux is a long reach apparently. The other crux is also a long reach. A high bridge and long stretch gains an unmatchable edge still some way off the next good crimp rail. I still don't want to test the fall just yet, so more shaking and teetering and swapping pump in my arms and feet. My brain isn't too pumped yet as I change to a tinier, closer foothold and make the stretch, and extended scrabbling gets me fully committed on the main rail. It's good but there's little time and even less reason to hang around and think about it.

Distilling it further...the move...

I look up....and higher up still and see the next hold. Feet up and out in another high bridge, but this time it's beyond stretching. I coil up for a lunge....without looking sideways, my brain visualises the gear a little bit down and a long way right, my awareness acknowledges the fall potential, my memory recalls 3 days ago at Ratho, doing falling practise as I do almost every session. Bolt beneath my feet, looking down, dropping into space. The familiarity with that situation quietens down most of my concerns about the fall, and the thoughts have passed through my mind in fractions of seconds. I slap upwards.

Distilling it further...the hold...

Even committing, even slapping, I'm not sure that I will make it. Even getting the hold, I'm not sure that I have. It's good, I think, well that's what half a first joint on the sharp lip is telling me. I micro-slap again, am I on or off? Still on. Another micro-slap, I'm pretty sure I'm on? Another adjustment and match and I've held it. Scream up to a good loose jug, slap a sling over it, spend a couple of minutes hyperventilating and trying to remove the flash pump to do one easy 5b finish move in a couple of seconds.

All concerns or queries or regrets about the first pitch or the faff or anything else are gone. All that matters are those moments of catching and re-catching and re-catching the edge until I had it. One move, one hold, one hand, I can still imagine the feeling beneath my fingertips.

Of course, I am really happy with the route because it is brilliant. 15 metres of top quality wall climbing and spacewalking. I'm even happier committing to a slap above gear. Last year I slapped for a hold with a bolt beneath my feet, this year I slapped for a hold with trad gear beneath my feet. That is pretty special to me. 3 years ago I'd have got to the first crux and backed off it, unwilling to commit to even that. 2 years ago I'd have done the first crux and then slumped sideways off that, unwilling to risk the full fall. Last year and this year I'm able to commit to that move - well this time at least, maybe next time I will be a fanny and back off, but then again maybe not, the potential is there and that is reassuring.