El Roacho

The interweb was full of people blathering on about how good the weekend was going to be. You couldnt fail to feel at least a little bit excited by all the hype, and i just hoped the weather delivered on the promise. Which it did. Didnt have time to go to the Roaches, but I went anyway. Its fine to go places and try stuff on your own, but once a week is more than enough, and although it meant i wouldnt have long, I went where my friends were. Glad I did too, as it was a beautiful day to be driving down through staffordshire, que misty eyed daydreaming about living in a farmhouse and having dogs.

Anyway, back in the real world I arrive at bloc centrale and bump into some girls who I always see at the wall. Mild abuse of one another and I do some fun problems to get on it. Meanwhile my chums are nowhere in site. But with good reason, as Ed is having his last go on Tetris, and they have warned its 15 minutes walk from where I am, and in the sun is making it greasy. I set up camp beneath mushin. The last go is enough for Ed, who, like a prize fighter arrives victorious but covered in blood. Videos of this problem look fab - i would be keen to investigate for myself.

Mushin has always been on the list, but its a line of drainage and was wet the only other time I went to the roaches. And I think it might have been a little bit that way on saturday, although its meltwater this time. We start off reaching the jug dish with our left hands and then attempting to toe hook our way out to the right hand jug. I hit the jug a few times, but suspect I am moving too fast to actually hold it should i get there. Try going with the right hand a couple of times, and it takes a bit of work to make any progress, then I manage to get to the left hand dish above, and suprisingly theres a little mono thing in it, and the toes feel better somehow - more straight on perhaps? anyway, so suprised that theres actually a hold up there I dont get it right and fall off. Turns out that this is the way. So, another project added to the list!

To our right a pad hurtles from the top of the crag, bouncing down through the trees as though some hideous accident has taken place, but theres noone attached and its all benign. 'Isn't that stone's pad?' says James, then we realise that there has been a hideous accident, but its one of navigation - Sharples, Rae and Stone all clump down the path towards us, hopelessly lost and in search of a crimp to swivel around on. We set them back on course for Millers Dale and start packing up ourselves. Beautiful day, and -3 just outside of buxton on the way home.