Aloof Roof

To achieve one's goals, one must be prepared to stick to ones guns when all about one people are channel surfing. However, whilst a certain amount of doggedness is an asset, too much is stubborness. I thought I could do roof warrior in another session, and so I was scratching around for chances to get back to it. Noone could be persuaded on Saturday the 27th, and this is when having more than one thing on the go pays dividends. I didnt want to, but back to the tor I went and got on Mecca. I felt fat, weak and way off the pace. I think I knew this was going to happen, and that's why I hadn't wanted to go. Sulked off home at lunchtime.

Magic Seaguess predicted that the conditions on the East coast would be favorable. Everyone else had gone on the sunday and monday and the reports came back of amazing sessions, overhead barrels and charging reef breaks. Tuesday looked even better. The Monday team had had to seek shelter, but by Tuesday PM it looked like the wind died out and favorably changed direction. Ed had just got back from a break to Thailand, where he had discovered God :

And the good lord said that we should ride waves.

The lord wouldn't get his wish. The first problem was that the tide was all wrong. Very big tide, and going to be high water just after we got there. Ideally it would have been low, then we could have gone to this runswick place. We went to Cayton. From the cliff it looked quite good, but as we got to the water it looked like there was a lot of white water and that as Ed put it 'a torrid paddle' awaited. And it did. Should have told a story that there were 50 people in the water, and only 2 out the back. We eventually increased the number to four, but not without some serious effort. Caught no good rides, agreed to check s.bay. Drove round in wetsuits to find the sea bouncing off the sea wall and no chance of surfing. Bobbins. Went for a cuppa and drove home hating surfing.

I got to go back to Roof Warrior that Thursday with incomprehensible Brian. Sort of felt a bit pumped from the off really. Don't know if I over-warmed up or something like that. He didn't look good on CoD either, so perhaps it was something in the air, but part of me knows it wasn't and that we were shit. So, let's analyse those errors :

This is a knee pad I made to make the route easier. It's an old Pink Anasazi with the top butchered so you can strap it to your leg. I showed Ned the above picture and he said the problem with such devices is that they are ok for bouldering because there isn't that much leg waggling before you need to use the pad, but with routes it could well move. And move it did. At the first knee bar it worked, sort of, but didn't acheive its goal - the position felt no easier, so it was kind of pointless. Then it moved between the kneebars and actually caused the next one - which should be a rest, to feel terrifying. Balls.

Saturday morning came and with it a chance to drag another willing victim down the dale. Things just felt better. I felt better, today was surely the day. I had eschewed the kneepad, and gone back to the comfy floppy clown shoe rock boots. For a millisecond, on the 'putting the clips in' go, I thought like a hero I was actually going to be able to do it putting the clips in! Quickly realisation dawned and i stopped that attempt. But, I felt like I'd climbed it well, that I remembered all the cheating tricks and that I was actually going to do it. Had a really good rest whilst Ed had a burn. Then it came time to tie on again.

I rinsed up the lower wall, punching through the sequence to a poor rest in the roof. CLip. Quick couple of breaths, change hands and stand around a bit, then reach back through the roof. I clamp my feet around the undercut and take my right hand off. This is a wierd move. I pivot out and stuff my hand into the sharp jug to move up to the first kneebar. I remember the nuances and make the next clip. Without stopping I put the top thighbar in and clip again.

Conciously I slow my breathing down, changing hands and shaking out trying as best I can to recover enough for the redpoint crux. Look round, and have a quick chat with Ed, then its time to go, and I throw myself at the edge above. It's an ok hold, and if it was on the bouldering wall you'd be able to do a one armer on it, but up there, after all that - it's not what you need. I shuffle along it, remember my foot sequence, toeing down on a blackened smear and changing my focus to the undercut above. I don't allow thought, stoppage or doubt, instead thrusting my hand upwards into the undercut - got it! Yesss! match in and snatch a few ragged breaths. I know I haven't got much left, and that I need to be quick. There's a good finger jug coming up, and I scuttle quickly up to it, hoping to be able to recover. I try my best but there's not much coming back in my arms, and I know that it'll soon be counter productive. Push on!

These are good holds, but they're all a bit flat - there's nothing you can hang off your skin on, and I feel that I am slapping increasingly wildly, but thankfully, before I fall off I get the massive hooter right of the chains and clip. Get in! Ed has another go, but is still really pumped, so we tootle back off to meet James.

That evening we and a group of 18 join Dylan and Lucy at the aagrah in Sheffield for farewell drinks. Its a nice evening, but we are pretty tired by then. It rains on Sunday. James attempts dog napping :

Ed shows us his lo-fi Dyson :

And our weekend finishes with a pie :