Guess what? We had an excellent time in CORNWALL. Oh yes we did. A really really fantastic few days basking on Cornish sun-baked belay ledges with the sea crashing around the foot of the climb. Suffering Matt's somewhat individual driving was worth it, and my quasar stood up in some beautifully clear evenings that just made you lie back, gaze at the stars after a couple of pints of Cornish weedkiller and think 'have they got it all right ? I mean how can they know sooo much about the universe just by looking at those pin pricks of light?' And then the exertions of the day overcome you and you fall asleep before you can think of any disturbing thoughts like 'will a comet hit the earth?' and 'if the moon is made of cheese then where is the cow that donated the milk?'
Okay, I'll talk some sense now. Or would you prefer it if I just remained flippant for the rest of the message. You see if I stop this err what's the word, errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr littlespiel (I think that that is the word that I am looking for) I break the flow and the moment and the mood is lost, and as you know, mood is everything. I think that my grasp of the English language is not incredibly strong at the moment. In fact it is about as tenuous as the foothold that failed John so dramatically on Tuesday. (climbing talk ahead) He was on an E1 called Vietnamerica when the really good foothold that he was stood on detached itself from the rock face, sending him flying into the void with a surprised look on his face. Right - rewind to the beginning of the trip.
We got down to the campsite on Sat at about 8pm and surprised Amos as he didn't realise that we were coming! Talk about vacant. 'Where are you staying' we ask Amos on Mon - and he doesn't think that we are coming to CORNWALL. Anyway on Sunday I decided to be really really keen, and even though it was pouring with rain I dragged Matt and John out of their sleeping bags and insisted that we went to Bosigran NOW. We got there in the rain and went and did Commando Ridge - a classic V.Diff that the Marines first put up in the forties when training for D-Day! Matt did the bottom crux pitch thanks to his legendary reach, and we polished off the 800ft route by 1pm, and wandered over to the main crag, where the others had been trying herder routes in similarly minging conditions. Well that soon changed as the Sun came out, and that famous Russian defector, Boris Bluski, made a cameo appearance.
After a quick lunch with the power of raw broccoli Matt and I decided to attack Doorpost, a classic HS. We ignored the wet patches, and I christened my new rock boots, no pain - no gain. Matt had the wet bottom pitch, and I ran the top two immaculate steep pitches together. Matt was understandably slightly miffed as the climbing was on fantastic rock with breathtaking exposure. On the way up I passed Leyla who was swearing fluently in four languages at one of Amos' nuts (hee hee) that wouldn't behave itself and come out. 'Only Leyla has a problem with my nuts' he grinned as I explained the delay to him whilst setting up the belay. Matt swarmed up the route and we moved down the crag to do Ochre Slab Route 1. VS don't you know. Matt lead the slab pitch, his enormous reach enabling him to stretch the crux with a minimum of fuss. I had a more 'interesting' time! Matt very kindly left the overhanging inverted V chimney for myself. After a few minutes cramped at the back of the chimney I suddenly saw a hold out at the edge of the left wall. 'Scuse me Matt, but I need to stand on that little foothold just above your head' got him moving strategically out of the way, and two swift moves later I was bridged across the chimney with a fantastic view of the sea crashing against the rocks directly below me. All too soon I was pulling out of the chimney on huge holds, letting my feet swing free, just for the feeling. Gratuitous, I know. Let me move swiftly along to our next, and last route for the day. Little Brown Jug .html VS. Matt lead the first two pitches together, starting at just before 6pm, leaving me to do the last pitch in the dying daylight. Halfway through executing the crux move DISASTER. My nut key snagged the rope, leaving me halfway through the move, frozen. 'FUCK' I said. Nothing changed. 'FUCK' I repeated, and still it remained. So I tried the variation 'fuck, Fuck, FUck, FUCk, FUCK' and strained as hard as I could to continue through to a position where I could let go of my one handhold and free the rope. 'Something wrong?' wandered up from below, and I explained the situation, whilst threatening my nut key with a visit to the Chemistry labs with Matt if it didn't behave itself in the future. I did the next two balancy moves with jelly legs, until reaching the well named little brown jug, and finally romped up the overhanging crack above. Matt was left with the unenviable task of following me with almost no light. He stormed up in fantastic style, even trying the blank overhanging wall near the crack, not seeing the crack! Thanks to forethought neither of us had brought our head torches, and so the most dangerous part of the day was the walk back through the boulders in the dark!
Goodness, that was a long paragraph! Sit back, stretch, yawn, watch our new kitten attack a defenceless earphone, consider Monday. Here goes.
Chair Ladder was the venue for Monday's adventures, and saw me, Matt and John on a makeshift belay halfway up the first pitch of our climb to escape the tide. This saw me conveniently pass the lead to John for the hard overhanging wall above. Good job too. When I finally had my turn I managed it with about two seconds of strength left in my fingers. HVS my foot!! Then followed an un-noteworthy VS, and finally Matt and I did Diosces. Again much wave crashing whilst Matt tackled a fantastic first pitch. I then did an amazing traverse under an overhang (perfect hand jamming on rough granite), and Matt polished off the last two pitches to top out as the sun sank into the sea (again).
Getting tired at this end, I'm afraid. Anyway Land's End was Tuesday's venue in cold blustery conditions. Matt and I finally decided to do something a little more challenging and tackled Vietnamerica (after John had removed the weak foothold). My kind of climb, the right side of vertical, with balancy moves on small footholds. I even used my double zero rock! The crux move was, of course, right at the top, and I sat on the belay ledge feeling invincible. The sun had come out and I was sheltered from the wind. It was a fantastic finish to the climb. To cap it off some randomly drunk people exploded into the pub that evening, announced that two of them were getting married in the morning (having met a fortnight before), and proceeded to buy the whole pub a drink. Kat was described as a 'river of beauty' by someone who was as Baz will be in twenty years time, man, before the four of them disappeared in their taxi as suddenly as they had blasted into our sleepy, front - room pub!
Okay, that's your lot I'm afraid. My eyes are drooping and I can't take this shit keyboard anymore.