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I started climbing outside a couple of months ago and for the first time last week I got scared. A bit ridiculous really since I was climbing on a top rope, but for the first time I real felt exposed and intimidated by the route.
I wondered if people can recount the first time they were scared whilst climbing? (If it's not too traumatic!)Maybe some of you have never been scared?
I wondered if people can recount the first time they were scared whilst climbing? (If it's not too traumatic!)Maybe some of you have never been scared?
In reply to DaveGoesClimbing:
First time I eve got really scared was leading my first grit v diff about two or three days into my climbing career. I made a pact with god which I immediately reneged upon ie. never going climbing again if I got off it alive .
First time I eve got really scared was leading my first grit v diff about two or three days into my climbing career. I made a pact with god which I immediately reneged upon ie. never going climbing again if I got off it alive .
In reply to DaveGoesClimbing:
Winter solo of Cneifion Arete with no crampons/axe!! Foolishness turned to fear. Controlling the surges of panic was a major achievement! Utter relief when I finally completed an escape-traverse to the gully.
Winter solo of Cneifion Arete with no crampons/axe!! Foolishness turned to fear. Controlling the surges of panic was a major achievement! Utter relief when I finally completed an escape-traverse to the gully.
In reply to DaveGoesClimbing:
Spearhead way up Beinn Narnain. Not even a scramble in summer but did it in icy conditions no axe or crampons when I was 16, got trapped above ground I couldn't go back down, stuck below ground I couldn't get up. *Major* moment of dread, put me off heights for a year or two. Climbed up and made it but.. ooft...
Spearhead way up Beinn Narnain. Not even a scramble in summer but did it in icy conditions no axe or crampons when I was 16, got trapped above ground I couldn't go back down, stuck below ground I couldn't get up. *Major* moment of dread, put me off heights for a year or two. Climbed up and made it but.. ooft...
In reply to DaveGoesClimbing:
Er all the time, climb because I am scared of heights. Part of the thrill for me really, happier climbing than sat on ledges in multi pitch routes for sure.
Er all the time, climb because I am scared of heights. Part of the thrill for me really, happier climbing than sat on ledges in multi pitch routes for sure.
In reply to DaveGoesClimbing:
The first climb of a day out is always scary. This is particularly inconvenient if the day is at Wintour's Leap, so that the day's first effort is actually the "Easy" Way Down!
The first climb of a day out is always scary. This is particularly inconvenient if the day is at Wintour's Leap, so that the day's first effort is actually the "Easy" Way Down!
In reply to DaveGoesClimbing:
First route I went on was on an auto-belay at the wall. Found that pretty scary. Then remember climbing a slabby route, which scared me as well. Early trad leads were pretty scary. Osiris on the Gower was pretty scary first time I did the traverse.
First route I went on was on an auto-belay at the wall. Found that pretty scary. Then remember climbing a slabby route, which scared me as well. Early trad leads were pretty scary. Osiris on the Gower was pretty scary first time I did the traverse.
In reply to mattrm:
I actually found the traverse and the haul out from it fairly steady - it was the groove below the belay that put the wind up me...
I actually found the traverse and the haul out from it fairly steady - it was the groove below the belay that put the wind up me...
In reply to DaveGoesClimbing:
I climbed indoors for a bit at the age of about 14 then decided it was time to climb on rock at about 16. Had a couple of days of instruction at stanage to learn the basics then decided we should start out on our own.
Me and my mates saved up for ages and bought a rope, harness, half a set of wires and 3 cams, some extenders and extenders and a communal pair of rock shoes and set off.
For our first climb we chose a Vdiff at Standing Stones in the Chew valley. We walked there from Greenfield station which took ages. The crag is above a big steep slope so it feels like youre already a few pitches up and we couldnt see anybody at all apart from us. It was pretty windy and I was completly gripped for the whole thing, swearing I'd never go climbing again and then recanting my oath at the top like so many others.
I climbed indoors for a bit at the age of about 14 then decided it was time to climb on rock at about 16. Had a couple of days of instruction at stanage to learn the basics then decided we should start out on our own.
Me and my mates saved up for ages and bought a rope, harness, half a set of wires and 3 cams, some extenders and extenders and a communal pair of rock shoes and set off.
For our first climb we chose a Vdiff at Standing Stones in the Chew valley. We walked there from Greenfield station which took ages. The crag is above a big steep slope so it feels like youre already a few pitches up and we couldnt see anybody at all apart from us. It was pretty windy and I was completly gripped for the whole thing, swearing I'd never go climbing again and then recanting my oath at the top like so many others.
Post edited at 23:34
In reply to DaveGoesClimbing:
There is being scared and there is being scared. I started climbing around 1995, and had plenty of times of being mildly scared, my first outdoor lead on a severe, sans helmet and a bit higher above my gear than I wanted to be. I knew I could climb it, felt strong, so just got on with it. Progressed to climbing in the Alps, summer granite, winter ice. Sometimes felt a few wobbles along the way but nothing too bad. Got caught atop the Praz Torrent during the earthquake that happened to strike the Chamonix area in Sept 2005, that was pretty scary, and nearly getting wopped on the head by a large rock on the Miroir d' Argentine wasn't much fun either.
But it was a rather less dramatic day on the Blaitiere in 2010 that really scared me, and for no reason that I can explain. The walk in to the Red Pillar is along a very narrow path that drops down to the glacier hundreds of metres below. This was already freaking me out before we even got to the climb. Our route wasn't on the Red Pillar, but in the vicinity with the Pillar looming above. The whole place seemed to be closing in on me, pushing me off the mountain towards that huge drop to the glacier.
I was completely overwhelmed by a sense of claustrophobia, and as I set off to follow the first pitch, I kept thinking that the ropes were going to snap. I got half way up and couldn't climb, and it wasn't hard. I was scared witless. My partner had to lower me back to the ground. I just wanted to get out of that place.
I can't quite understand where the fear had come from, the day before we had climbed the Couzy Route the the Aig de l'M, and we had climbed the Vaucher Route on the Peigne earlier on the trip. This was my 10th summer of climbing in the Alps and I had climbed many exposed and hard routes without even a glimmer of angst. Yet this place had completely freaked me out.
I have only climbed once since this happened, a severe on Tryfan that I followed my mate up, I enjoyed the climb, never felt worried but didn't want to lead either.
I miss climbing sometimes, I would love to go back to the Envers, as I always felt at home there, but have no idea if I would actually be able to climb. I think the reason I felt so scared was a combination of delayed shock at nearly being killed on the Miroir earlier that summer and the claustrophobic environment I found myself in on the Blaitiere. The feeling of being pushed off that mountain is something that I don't want to experience in the hills again.
There is being scared and there is being scared. I started climbing around 1995, and had plenty of times of being mildly scared, my first outdoor lead on a severe, sans helmet and a bit higher above my gear than I wanted to be. I knew I could climb it, felt strong, so just got on with it. Progressed to climbing in the Alps, summer granite, winter ice. Sometimes felt a few wobbles along the way but nothing too bad. Got caught atop the Praz Torrent during the earthquake that happened to strike the Chamonix area in Sept 2005, that was pretty scary, and nearly getting wopped on the head by a large rock on the Miroir d' Argentine wasn't much fun either.
But it was a rather less dramatic day on the Blaitiere in 2010 that really scared me, and for no reason that I can explain. The walk in to the Red Pillar is along a very narrow path that drops down to the glacier hundreds of metres below. This was already freaking me out before we even got to the climb. Our route wasn't on the Red Pillar, but in the vicinity with the Pillar looming above. The whole place seemed to be closing in on me, pushing me off the mountain towards that huge drop to the glacier.
I was completely overwhelmed by a sense of claustrophobia, and as I set off to follow the first pitch, I kept thinking that the ropes were going to snap. I got half way up and couldn't climb, and it wasn't hard. I was scared witless. My partner had to lower me back to the ground. I just wanted to get out of that place.
I can't quite understand where the fear had come from, the day before we had climbed the Couzy Route the the Aig de l'M, and we had climbed the Vaucher Route on the Peigne earlier on the trip. This was my 10th summer of climbing in the Alps and I had climbed many exposed and hard routes without even a glimmer of angst. Yet this place had completely freaked me out.
I have only climbed once since this happened, a severe on Tryfan that I followed my mate up, I enjoyed the climb, never felt worried but didn't want to lead either.
I miss climbing sometimes, I would love to go back to the Envers, as I always felt at home there, but have no idea if I would actually be able to climb. I think the reason I felt so scared was a combination of delayed shock at nearly being killed on the Miroir earlier that summer and the claustrophobic environment I found myself in on the Blaitiere. The feeling of being pushed off that mountain is something that I don't want to experience in the hills again.
Post edited at 23:47
In reply to DaveGoesClimbing:
I've genuinely thought I might die on a (small) number of occasions. The trick is not to go to pieces but use it to react ''positively'. Fear is a natural reaction and no bad thing. Perhaps being prepared for it is helpful.
I've genuinely thought I might die on a (small) number of occasions. The trick is not to go to pieces but use it to react ''positively'. Fear is a natural reaction and no bad thing. Perhaps being prepared for it is helpful.
In reply to Skyfall:
Thanks. I'm sure I will go climbing again. Every now and again I decide to sell all my stuff but then flick through the guidebooks and can't do it!!
Thanks. I'm sure I will go climbing again. Every now and again I decide to sell all my stuff but then flick through the guidebooks and can't do it!!
In reply to DaveGoesClimbing:
It's an old tale, but here you go;
Me and my mate Clerkie were having a day soloing at the Dewerstone.
We had just finished the last one, and were thinking of going to the pub, when I decided to try and do a small, (15 foot high) problem in a bay around the back, one which I had been working on for some time.
I got maybe 12 foot up it, and was precariously balanced when my foot slipped off a hold, and I fell in a heap to the ground. (In the process giving my shin a nasty barking. I still have the scar.)
I was rolling about on the floor, looking for sympathy, when Clarkie came over; “I bet you’re glad you didn’t do that quarter of an hour ago!” Too right I was glad, if I had slipped at that time, I’d have been death-distance from the ground, not 12 foot up.
The thought of it still makes me feel sick
It's an old tale, but here you go;
Me and my mate Clerkie were having a day soloing at the Dewerstone.
We had just finished the last one, and were thinking of going to the pub, when I decided to try and do a small, (15 foot high) problem in a bay around the back, one which I had been working on for some time.
I got maybe 12 foot up it, and was precariously balanced when my foot slipped off a hold, and I fell in a heap to the ground. (In the process giving my shin a nasty barking. I still have the scar.)
I was rolling about on the floor, looking for sympathy, when Clarkie came over; “I bet you’re glad you didn’t do that quarter of an hour ago!” Too right I was glad, if I had slipped at that time, I’d have been death-distance from the ground, not 12 foot up.
The thought of it still makes me feel sick
Post edited at 00:43
Hey Dave,
I'll get a little bit scared pretty much every time I climb outside. Unless I'm warming up on really easy stuff.
If the route is bolted I might get scared when my feet are higher than the last bolt and there is a tricky move to make. But with trad I'm pretty much scared most of the time as I don't trust my gear placements yet.
I did have one major wobbly when I was above the gear, didn't trust any of it, and then I got my foot stuck in a crack and didn't know what to do - and I had to be rescued. That was the worst time (plus the most humiliating!).
But ironically, the thing that I have found to really help with my fear - or rather managing my fear - is to do soloing. Obviously I'll pick really, really easy routes that I'm confident I can do. Then I find that if the worry/panic starts to bubble to the surface I instantly shut it down, because I have to. Whereas, if I am on top-rope or there is a way out, I end up being more soft and act like a wuss - because I can.
Doing a few solo routes at the start of each session has really helped me learn to control my head and really focus on the moment, and as there is no other choice - you just have to get on and do it!
I hope it reassures you to hear, I don't know a single climber who doesn't get sacred on a regular basis. And Dave Macleod talks about fear (his own fear) a lot in his book. He also recommends regular falling practice as an essential part of fear management.
(PS - I am NOT advocating that anyone should start doing solo routes at the start of each session. I'm just saying what has helped me. But I am pretty odd.)
Post edited at 01:17
In reply to DaveGoesClimbing:
Tryfan, February 1976. Having being bullied into going on a Field Club trip to a foreign country by the rugger buggers who ruled the roost at the fascist/stalinist grammer skool that my idiot-hippy poorents sent me to whilst I was domiciled in Boremingham, I got dragged away from my books, dragged up a mountain, used as a snowballing target, buried in soft snow for seventeen minutes, ridiculed by 'teachers' and eventually kicked down the mountain by the whole group, who, I seem to recall, were laughing hysterically about having made a long-haired, hippy-ass, vegetarian snowball out of me. I was scared.
I vaguely remember recovering from that ordeal and being - happily - off skool for six weeks. During which time I read all of the two hundred or so books that made up the entire stock of the Yardley Wood Ghetto Pubic[sic - somebody stole the 'L' for firewood]Library.
As chance would have it, one of those books was 'The Hard Years'. Haven't been scared since. Went back to skool as a climber. Burned off all the rugger buggers. Life was sweet.
Bumped into the 'teacher' who 'led' that particular trip up Tryfan ten years after leaving Stalag Moseley...
"Chambers," he began. "Still climbing?"
"Yeah, Hebden", I replied, sneeringly, wryly observing his beer-gut wrenching its hideous form out of his nylon fascist sportswear that used to so terrify me. "You?"
"Oh, yes! Only last weekend I was out on the Glyders, soloing a nice V.Diff. What was the last route you did, Chambers?"
"Well, Hebden, you child-abusing motherf*cker, yesterday I was at Millstone Edge where I soloed 'Green Death'."
Never seen that man again. Owe him a debt of gratitude. Sort of...
Actually, I got scared again recently, but that's another story.
Tryfan, February 1976. Having being bullied into going on a Field Club trip to a foreign country by the rugger buggers who ruled the roost at the fascist/stalinist grammer skool that my idiot-hippy poorents sent me to whilst I was domiciled in Boremingham, I got dragged away from my books, dragged up a mountain, used as a snowballing target, buried in soft snow for seventeen minutes, ridiculed by 'teachers' and eventually kicked down the mountain by the whole group, who, I seem to recall, were laughing hysterically about having made a long-haired, hippy-ass, vegetarian snowball out of me. I was scared.
I vaguely remember recovering from that ordeal and being - happily - off skool for six weeks. During which time I read all of the two hundred or so books that made up the entire stock of the Yardley Wood Ghetto Pubic[sic - somebody stole the 'L' for firewood]Library.
As chance would have it, one of those books was 'The Hard Years'. Haven't been scared since. Went back to skool as a climber. Burned off all the rugger buggers. Life was sweet.
Bumped into the 'teacher' who 'led' that particular trip up Tryfan ten years after leaving Stalag Moseley...
"Chambers," he began. "Still climbing?"
"Yeah, Hebden", I replied, sneeringly, wryly observing his beer-gut wrenching its hideous form out of his nylon fascist sportswear that used to so terrify me. "You?"
"Oh, yes! Only last weekend I was out on the Glyders, soloing a nice V.Diff. What was the last route you did, Chambers?"
"Well, Hebden, you child-abusing motherf*cker, yesterday I was at Millstone Edge where I soloed 'Green Death'."
Never seen that man again. Owe him a debt of gratitude. Sort of...
Actually, I got scared again recently, but that's another story.
In reply to DaveGoesClimbing:
I've climbed for a fair few years and had a number of those 'oh sh!t' moments where hands purposelessly seek holds where you've already sought them, feet start peddling and you suddenly start to feel very sorry for yourself, but fortunately my 10/10 on the stark eye popping terror scale came not on rock, but while doing some MR training practice on a tower crane over in Salford.
The plan was to climb with the gear and ropes to a platform just below the cab where we waited while the operator raised a full sized sandbag dummy on the jib, swinging it round as he did so. No one had warned us that as the jib operates it would cause the whole superstructure to yaw and twist through what seemed like 3 feet side to side. I can't forget the tsunami of fear and panic arising at that point, as I could not shake off the mental image of the collapsing twin towers which had happened a few months before. I know for a certainty that if I had been on my own at that point I would have bolted back down the ladder and wouldn't have stopped running till I reached Manchester Town Hall. The presence of one other person made me too ashamed to move and I just hope I never have to exercise such a degree of self control ever again because if I do, I know I really will be in the sh!t.
The moment passed and I thoroughly enjoyed rescuing Mr Sandman.
I've climbed for a fair few years and had a number of those 'oh sh!t' moments where hands purposelessly seek holds where you've already sought them, feet start peddling and you suddenly start to feel very sorry for yourself, but fortunately my 10/10 on the stark eye popping terror scale came not on rock, but while doing some MR training practice on a tower crane over in Salford.
The plan was to climb with the gear and ropes to a platform just below the cab where we waited while the operator raised a full sized sandbag dummy on the jib, swinging it round as he did so. No one had warned us that as the jib operates it would cause the whole superstructure to yaw and twist through what seemed like 3 feet side to side. I can't forget the tsunami of fear and panic arising at that point, as I could not shake off the mental image of the collapsing twin towers which had happened a few months before. I know for a certainty that if I had been on my own at that point I would have bolted back down the ladder and wouldn't have stopped running till I reached Manchester Town Hall. The presence of one other person made me too ashamed to move and I just hope I never have to exercise such a degree of self control ever again because if I do, I know I really will be in the sh!t.
The moment passed and I thoroughly enjoyed rescuing Mr Sandman.
Post edited at 11:44
In reply to DaveGoesClimbing:
Last year I took a bit of a whipper in Pembroke climbing Manzuko. I cruised the crux which is low down, but then faffed around for ages placing gear in an awkward corner. I didn't really feel it at the time but this must have sapped a lot of my energy. Keen to push on I took a confident approach to the next section and didn't place any gear for a few meters...
Soon I found myself in a bit of a sticky situation. The ground had steepened up and a debilitating pump had crept up on me, worse than I have ever had it before, the type where you feel your fingers slowly uncurling and there's nothing you can do about it. I managed to unclip some wires from my harness and stuff these in my mouth but couldn't let go with one hand for long enough to place one. The inevitable was coming but I couldn't shout down to my second to "take" with my mouth full of metal.
15 meters later I came to rest, almost close enough to shake my belayer's hand. I was absolutely buzzing on adrenalin for about half an hour afterwards. On the plus side I got the 'unintentional descent' award from my climbing club for it!
Last year I took a bit of a whipper in Pembroke climbing Manzuko. I cruised the crux which is low down, but then faffed around for ages placing gear in an awkward corner. I didn't really feel it at the time but this must have sapped a lot of my energy. Keen to push on I took a confident approach to the next section and didn't place any gear for a few meters...
Soon I found myself in a bit of a sticky situation. The ground had steepened up and a debilitating pump had crept up on me, worse than I have ever had it before, the type where you feel your fingers slowly uncurling and there's nothing you can do about it. I managed to unclip some wires from my harness and stuff these in my mouth but couldn't let go with one hand for long enough to place one. The inevitable was coming but I couldn't shout down to my second to "take" with my mouth full of metal.
15 meters later I came to rest, almost close enough to shake my belayer's hand. I was absolutely buzzing on adrenalin for about half an hour afterwards. On the plus side I got the 'unintentional descent' award from my climbing club for it!
In reply to DaveGoesClimbing:
I don't remember the first time I got scared on a climb, probably the first time I went climbing.
The last time I got scared was on a grit HVD. I climbed it on the same day as my fourth grit e1 and first e2, on both of which I wasn't scared particularly, I just felt very careful and controlled. On the HVD however I got up and felt dead exposed and shouted at my belayer for not concentrating (having a chinwag eyes elsewhere, naughty boy).
Weird.
I don't remember the first time I got scared on a climb, probably the first time I went climbing.
The last time I got scared was on a grit HVD. I climbed it on the same day as my fourth grit e1 and first e2, on both of which I wasn't scared particularly, I just felt very careful and controlled. On the HVD however I got up and felt dead exposed and shouted at my belayer for not concentrating (having a chinwag eyes elsewhere, naughty boy).
Weird.
In reply to DaveGoesClimbing:
Think I was 18 the first time I got really scared.
First time out climbing and had no idea what I was doing. Had done loads of scrambling and mountains before so thought that that was a fine approach.
Walked around the corner from the Diff I'd just done with my dad and saw a lovely slab. Started up it easy enough and got drawn in until just a couple of moves from the top (crux) about 25/30 feet up. Sh#t myself completely and unable to downclimb, ended up wobbling my way through the last move - just, utterly shi##ing it. Looked in the guidebook after and turned out I'd soloed a VS - Great Slab in Chew Valley. Was scared by this fact more than stoked by it. Think I learnt a lot from that.
Did I mention that I sh#t myself?
Think I was 18 the first time I got really scared.
First time out climbing and had no idea what I was doing. Had done loads of scrambling and mountains before so thought that that was a fine approach.
Walked around the corner from the Diff I'd just done with my dad and saw a lovely slab. Started up it easy enough and got drawn in until just a couple of moves from the top (crux) about 25/30 feet up. Sh#t myself completely and unable to downclimb, ended up wobbling my way through the last move - just, utterly shi##ing it. Looked in the guidebook after and turned out I'd soloed a VS - Great Slab in Chew Valley. Was scared by this fact more than stoked by it. Think I learnt a lot from that.
Did I mention that I sh#t myself?
In reply to DaveGoesClimbing:
I was a Scaffolder before a rock Climber, so heights were like an everyday thing. I Climbed for years with what i would call a very Healthy respect for heights, more aware than afraid.
First Time i was Proper Scared was Climbing in the pass, for the first Time since i had Decked out From 30 foot, because of Someone elses stupid incompetence a couple of Months before...
Fair Shit myself for no reason really, just panic... Nearly vomited... overcame it Though it still haunts me Today.
Everyone gets Scared, anyone who says they dont is a Liar.
I was a Scaffolder before a rock Climber, so heights were like an everyday thing. I Climbed for years with what i would call a very Healthy respect for heights, more aware than afraid.
First Time i was Proper Scared was Climbing in the pass, for the first Time since i had Decked out From 30 foot, because of Someone elses stupid incompetence a couple of Months before...
Fair Shit myself for no reason really, just panic... Nearly vomited... overcame it Though it still haunts me Today.
Everyone gets Scared, anyone who says they dont is a Liar.
In reply to DaveGoesClimbing:
hearing that deep buzzing noise whilst tying myself to a large tree root at the top of something easy at Chatsworth
that buzzing you get when you annoy a wasp nest
scaryer than considering backing off from a tight chimney where I couldn't see below my feet, oh dear, i'll just lob all my gear through the hole and hope I can follow, which I could phew
hearing that deep buzzing noise whilst tying myself to a large tree root at the top of something easy at Chatsworth
that buzzing you get when you annoy a wasp nest
scaryer than considering backing off from a tight chimney where I couldn't see below my feet, oh dear, i'll just lob all my gear through the hole and hope I can follow, which I could phew
In reply to DaveGoesClimbing:
falling 15ft onto a ledge from a layback, landing on my back and hearing a crack severe pain that subsided as i pinwheeled off the ledge into a face 1st grounding, BLOODY SCARY.........
falling 15ft onto a ledge from a layback, landing on my back and hearing a crack severe pain that subsided as i pinwheeled off the ledge into a face 1st grounding, BLOODY SCARY.........
In reply to yeti: First time i got scared was on a scramble on dow crag going across e buttress.We almost got cragfast(no rope either).Then my mate dropped the backpack with the car keys in it.
In reply to broken spectre:Large respect to anyone who does that job,more dangerous than rock climbing imo.
In reply to liz j:
Sounds horrible Liz, hope you get the confidence at some point to go out climbing again
Sounds horrible Liz, hope you get the confidence at some point to go out climbing again
In reply to Skyfall:
Totally agree, anyone who doesnt get scared at all is most likely to hurt themselves
Totally agree, anyone who doesnt get scared at all is most likely to hurt themselves
In reply to DaveGoesClimbing:
One of my very early leads was Litte Cham. Myself and and a similarly inexperienced friend decided to head to Shepherds from Newacslte for a couple of days with just a 35m rope, a handful of draws and a set of nuts (a mix of 2nd hand and newly acquired). Would be fine now, but at the time it quickly felt insufficient.
I set off up the route, being the only one leading as we had one belay device between us with me brining him up on an Italian hitch, and began to feel a little out of my depth. The a cheval belay terrified me, with thoughts of being pulled off and us both hanging on the slab below. The final pitch left me a gibbering wreck, I still think it's pretty airy and exposed for VDiff but at the time I'd basically convinced myself I was going to die. I arrived at the top nearly shaking with fear and wasn't far from tears!
I promised myself I'd solo it one day to even the score and I have done a number if times since. In fact, I often take newer climbers on it so they can experience that wonderful final pitch without the terror I felt.
It's now one of my favourite routes, and a funny story I often tell people when talking about being scared on routes.
One of my very early leads was Litte Cham. Myself and and a similarly inexperienced friend decided to head to Shepherds from Newacslte for a couple of days with just a 35m rope, a handful of draws and a set of nuts (a mix of 2nd hand and newly acquired). Would be fine now, but at the time it quickly felt insufficient.
I set off up the route, being the only one leading as we had one belay device between us with me brining him up on an Italian hitch, and began to feel a little out of my depth. The a cheval belay terrified me, with thoughts of being pulled off and us both hanging on the slab below. The final pitch left me a gibbering wreck, I still think it's pretty airy and exposed for VDiff but at the time I'd basically convinced myself I was going to die. I arrived at the top nearly shaking with fear and wasn't far from tears!
I promised myself I'd solo it one day to even the score and I have done a number if times since. In fact, I often take newer climbers on it so they can experience that wonderful final pitch without the terror I felt.
It's now one of my favourite routes, and a funny story I often tell people when talking about being scared on routes.
In reply to DaveGoesClimbing: Probably the first time I climbed outside. Rappell Wall, Wilton 3, mid-November 1984, overcast to drizzly day and quite chilly. On a top rope as well, but wearing jeans that were damp from the weather and Dunlop green flash trainers climbing a route where the holds were thinly covered in sand giving them a feeling of being coated in greasy ball bearings.
I have subsequently been intimidated by a climb, but seldom as scared.
T.
I have subsequently been intimidated by a climb, but seldom as scared.
T.
In reply to DaveGoesClimbing:
Thanks Dave. I remembered the route now too, it's called Nabot Leon, and it is on the Red Pillar but off to the right hand side of the main climbing. I think I'll get some nice routes done in N. Wales before I venture back to the Alps, although I do miss the granite. Have currently replaced climbing with trail running which I am enjoying, and one day hope to qualify for the UTMB, so I can run around the Alps instead!
Thanks Dave. I remembered the route now too, it's called Nabot Leon, and it is on the Red Pillar but off to the right hand side of the main climbing. I think I'll get some nice routes done in N. Wales before I venture back to the Alps, although I do miss the granite. Have currently replaced climbing with trail running which I am enjoying, and one day hope to qualify for the UTMB, so I can run around the Alps instead!
In reply to DaveGoesClimbing:
Age 8 climbing round ( not up) the Clyde facing side of Dumbarton Castle when the tide was in.
Age 8 climbing round ( not up) the Clyde facing side of Dumbarton Castle when the tide was in.
In reply to DaveGoesClimbing:
Scrambling on Harrison's stickle with the Scouts, went slightly off route and my cockyness evaporated.
First time I cried on lead, I was lost on something easy at Avon Gorge, a good 20m from my last piece, pumped from ever gripping, lassoing small saplings and the like, genuinely in fear of my life. The rope was dragging like hell, I shouted for slack, he heard safe, took me off and gave me three tugs to confirm.
Scrambling on Harrison's stickle with the Scouts, went slightly off route and my cockyness evaporated.
First time I cried on lead, I was lost on something easy at Avon Gorge, a good 20m from my last piece, pumped from ever gripping, lassoing small saplings and the like, genuinely in fear of my life. The rope was dragging like hell, I shouted for slack, he heard safe, took me off and gave me three tugs to confirm.
In reply to DaveGoesClimbing:
Never been more scared than a lead very early on in my climbing of Allans Slab at Froggat. Its a severe with some traversey moves above gear. Took me hours.
I've been in plenty of more potentially scarey places but that one still stands out.
Never been more scared than a lead very early on in my climbing of Allans Slab at Froggat. Its a severe with some traversey moves above gear. Took me hours.
I've been in plenty of more potentially scarey places but that one still stands out.
In reply to Dervey:
That sounds incredibly familiar - right down to the small details. I hopped on a train from Newcastle early in my climbing days armed with a 35m rope and some shiny new gear, met a friend in Carlisle, and went down to Shepherd's. Being the only person leading I set off up Little Chamonix. Found the first pitch an absolute doddle, second pitch is obviously a non-event, but the move off the block and subsequent race up the arete on the third pitch scared the crap out of me. I barely made it onto the saddle belay because of rope drag, and sat there a good while having a mini breakdown. Brought the second up, was psyching myself up for the final pitch when a passing soloist offered to take the rope. Gladly accepted the offer, and ever since have been gutted with the cop-out. I still have a score to settle with that route...
That was shortly after the first time I got properly scared - on one of my early leads on a Diff at Bowden. It goes up a slab onto a huge ledge - good gear all the way, and then between an big roof and a wallto finish on another huge ledge. Was pulling myself up onto the finishing ledge and a bit of gear 'self-placed' itself under the narrow constriction I was squeezing up through. Both arms firmly stuck and wedged on top of the crag, feet on nothing, couldn't move upwards, and couldn't see my feet to move downwards. While struggling I dislodged the (otherwise bomber) hex I'd placed below, and got thoroughly concerned about the fall onto the ledge/decking if I couldn't extricate myself...
> One of my very early leads was Litte Cham
> The a cheval belay terrified me, with thoughts of being pulled off and us both hanging on the slab below.
That sounds incredibly familiar - right down to the small details. I hopped on a train from Newcastle early in my climbing days armed with a 35m rope and some shiny new gear, met a friend in Carlisle, and went down to Shepherd's. Being the only person leading I set off up Little Chamonix. Found the first pitch an absolute doddle, second pitch is obviously a non-event, but the move off the block and subsequent race up the arete on the third pitch scared the crap out of me. I barely made it onto the saddle belay because of rope drag, and sat there a good while having a mini breakdown. Brought the second up, was psyching myself up for the final pitch when a passing soloist offered to take the rope. Gladly accepted the offer, and ever since have been gutted with the cop-out. I still have a score to settle with that route...
That was shortly after the first time I got properly scared - on one of my early leads on a Diff at Bowden. It goes up a slab onto a huge ledge - good gear all the way, and then between an big roof and a wallto finish on another huge ledge. Was pulling myself up onto the finishing ledge and a bit of gear 'self-placed' itself under the narrow constriction I was squeezing up through. Both arms firmly stuck and wedged on top of the crag, feet on nothing, couldn't move upwards, and couldn't see my feet to move downwards. While struggling I dislodged the (otherwise bomber) hex I'd placed below, and got thoroughly concerned about the fall onto the ledge/decking if I couldn't extricate myself...
In reply to DaveGoesClimbing:
Valkyrie, the Roaches, must have been my 5th or 6th ever climb. Didn't really understand what the grades meant at that time. Spent two hours clinging to the bottom of the flake terrified of stepping round, equally terrified of taking a swing. Looking back, double ropes probably would have been useful!
Valkyrie, the Roaches, must have been my 5th or 6th ever climb. Didn't really understand what the grades meant at that time. Spent two hours clinging to the bottom of the flake terrified of stepping round, equally terrified of taking a swing. Looking back, double ropes probably would have been useful!
In reply to DaveGoesClimbing:
First time I felt genuine fear that it was all going to go pete tong wasn't actually on a climb, but the walk out.
My friend and I had been climbing some fantastic limestone routes in Vikos gorge in northern Greece about 4 years ao, when this friendly chap came along and said there's a problem with the normal route out. The problem being a family of wild boar that had already gored one walker and people were advised to head out a different way.
My Greek was pretty rusty then, and I didn't quite understand what the nice chappy was saying, but being a man and trying to impress my mate with my linguistic skills, I just nodded and agreed.
Half an hour later we were 3/4 up a very steep scree slope bricking it fully clearly having taking a massive wrong turn. There was a mini land slip and both of us took a hell of a beating, thanking our lucky stars we'd both kept our helmets on. Bloody and bruised we reached the top of the slope, only to be presented with a 25ft foot limestone wall, almost entirely void of any features. The main path was directly at the top of this.
Up we went, the rock was unstable and falling apart, there were boulders and rocks below, no opportunity even for micro nuts, nothing, but thankfully had a bit of a lean away from us so remained just about climbable. Part way up that, I genuinely thought I was going to slip and head down that scree slope again. It was a short little climb, but I've never been more scared in my life.
On reaching the top we met some German climbers, who assumed we'd been doing a route. On enquiring which route this was, pointing at their guidebook, my mate screamed from just below the top...'IT'S NOT A F**KING ROUTE HANS! NOW THROW ME A F**KING ROPE!'
The relief hit me and I could not stop laughing for about 40 minutes.
They saw the funny side thankfully and we still giggle about that day today.
First time I felt genuine fear that it was all going to go pete tong wasn't actually on a climb, but the walk out.
My friend and I had been climbing some fantastic limestone routes in Vikos gorge in northern Greece about 4 years ao, when this friendly chap came along and said there's a problem with the normal route out. The problem being a family of wild boar that had already gored one walker and people were advised to head out a different way.
My Greek was pretty rusty then, and I didn't quite understand what the nice chappy was saying, but being a man and trying to impress my mate with my linguistic skills, I just nodded and agreed.
Half an hour later we were 3/4 up a very steep scree slope bricking it fully clearly having taking a massive wrong turn. There was a mini land slip and both of us took a hell of a beating, thanking our lucky stars we'd both kept our helmets on. Bloody and bruised we reached the top of the slope, only to be presented with a 25ft foot limestone wall, almost entirely void of any features. The main path was directly at the top of this.
Up we went, the rock was unstable and falling apart, there were boulders and rocks below, no opportunity even for micro nuts, nothing, but thankfully had a bit of a lean away from us so remained just about climbable. Part way up that, I genuinely thought I was going to slip and head down that scree slope again. It was a short little climb, but I've never been more scared in my life.
On reaching the top we met some German climbers, who assumed we'd been doing a route. On enquiring which route this was, pointing at their guidebook, my mate screamed from just below the top...'IT'S NOT A F**KING ROUTE HANS! NOW THROW ME A F**KING ROPE!'
The relief hit me and I could not stop laughing for about 40 minutes.
They saw the funny side thankfully and we still giggle about that day today.
Post edited at 20:34
In reply to DaveGoesClimbing:
It wasn't when I was flapping on a big move half way up the route.
It wasn't the manky maillons and tat I was lowering off.
It wasn't when the rope went slack 10ft above a load of rocks.
It wasn't the 500ms of reacting or the instinctive leap away from the wall
It was the 200ms before landing when I thought I was about to break my ankles and be too scared to climb again!
(I was fine, just a bit bashed up)
It wasn't when I was flapping on a big move half way up the route.
It wasn't the manky maillons and tat I was lowering off.
It wasn't when the rope went slack 10ft above a load of rocks.
It wasn't the 500ms of reacting or the instinctive leap away from the wall
It was the 200ms before landing when I thought I was about to break my ankles and be too scared to climb again!
(I was fine, just a bit bashed up)
In reply to DaveGoesClimbing:
1970, 14 years old, about my 4th or 5th lead, Robin Hoods Right Hand Buttress at Stanage. Old Viking rope - tied round the waist, a pair of borrowed RD's IIRC, which were too big and about 4 bits of gear, none of which really fitted in either the crack or the horizontal breaks - I got one runner in before the traverse out under the overhang, and one runner about 10' up the main crack.
Eventually, and very nervously got about 25' from the top, when it started drizzling. Was stationary for about half an hour trying to figure out what to do - no one around to throw down a top rope.
Finally managed to grovel my way shaking and gibbering to the top, crapping myself on every move.
1970, 14 years old, about my 4th or 5th lead, Robin Hoods Right Hand Buttress at Stanage. Old Viking rope - tied round the waist, a pair of borrowed RD's IIRC, which were too big and about 4 bits of gear, none of which really fitted in either the crack or the horizontal breaks - I got one runner in before the traverse out under the overhang, and one runner about 10' up the main crack.
Eventually, and very nervously got about 25' from the top, when it started drizzling. Was stationary for about half an hour trying to figure out what to do - no one around to throw down a top rope.
Finally managed to grovel my way shaking and gibbering to the top, crapping myself on every move.
In reply to DaveGoesClimbing:
Got scared doing Chequers Buttress as my first HVS and haven't really stopped since! Part of the gig really!
That said, the most scared I've been in recent times is when a seagull attacked me, there are worse things than falling off!
Got scared doing Chequers Buttress as my first HVS and haven't really stopped since! Part of the gig really!
That said, the most scared I've been in recent times is when a seagull attacked me, there are worse things than falling off!
In reply to buxtoncoffeelover:
Shit! That was the hardest grade IV (first pitch) I've ever climbed! I remember standing on a sling to keep it on the spike!
Can't remember the first time I got scared, they soon enough blur into one.
Shit! That was the hardest grade IV (first pitch) I've ever climbed! I remember standing on a sling to keep it on the spike!
Can't remember the first time I got scared, they soon enough blur into one.
In reply to DaveGoesClimbing:
Ages ago I was climbing at the Plas Y Brenin wall and the belayer was paying no attention to taking in rope. It was top rope but when I let go at the top, I fell to within a few feet off the ground. Needless to say, it scared me a little and the girl belaying got into a bit of trouble but hey, it was a rush!
I once high speed repelled and nearly lost my spine on a spike too, which was not scary at the time but makes me scared thinking about what the outcome could have been.
This is a horrible thread... I like it!
Ages ago I was climbing at the Plas Y Brenin wall and the belayer was paying no attention to taking in rope. It was top rope but when I let go at the top, I fell to within a few feet off the ground. Needless to say, it scared me a little and the girl belaying got into a bit of trouble but hey, it was a rush!
I once high speed repelled and nearly lost my spine on a spike too, which was not scary at the time but makes me scared thinking about what the outcome could have been.
This is a horrible thread... I like it!
In reply to DaveGoesClimbing:
I also did an easy top rope on an indoor wall once and just looked back on the overhang and thought "what would happen if my harness gave way... just then, the velcro tab on the harness did give way and it absolutely Sh!t me up. That was VERY scary!
I also did an easy top rope on an indoor wall once and just looked back on the overhang and thought "what would happen if my harness gave way... just then, the velcro tab on the harness did give way and it absolutely Sh!t me up. That was VERY scary!
In reply to DaveGoesClimbing:
Tower ridge April 1995. Under equipped in what turned out to be dreadfull conditions and a 18hr epic, finally topping out at 1am in a full blizzard and stumbling off in a hypothermic state, narrowly missing 5 finger gully.
I remember seconding a very thin icy eastern traverse, looking round the corner in the gloom, into the teeth of a howling blizzard. Seeing the only bit of gear (a hex) 20 odd feet away orbiting the frozen 9mm rope, knowing Rob probably only had me on a body belay (he did), at this point I thought I was going to die.
Set off, panicked, scuttled back to the big ledge, had a cry. Set off again, reached the orbiting gear. Breathed a sigh of relief, stepped left, at which point my foot hit rock and the toe bail of my left shitty fitting camp crampon popped. Ended up completing the traverse learning how to cut steps for my lead foot.
As I reached Rob, his only comment was "what the f**k have you been doing" as he stuffed a lit rollie in my mouth. I had just soloed that then while he rolled the fags.
Put me off winter climbing on the Ben for 7 or 8 years.
Adam
Tower ridge April 1995. Under equipped in what turned out to be dreadfull conditions and a 18hr epic, finally topping out at 1am in a full blizzard and stumbling off in a hypothermic state, narrowly missing 5 finger gully.
I remember seconding a very thin icy eastern traverse, looking round the corner in the gloom, into the teeth of a howling blizzard. Seeing the only bit of gear (a hex) 20 odd feet away orbiting the frozen 9mm rope, knowing Rob probably only had me on a body belay (he did), at this point I thought I was going to die.
Set off, panicked, scuttled back to the big ledge, had a cry. Set off again, reached the orbiting gear. Breathed a sigh of relief, stepped left, at which point my foot hit rock and the toe bail of my left shitty fitting camp crampon popped. Ended up completing the traverse learning how to cut steps for my lead foot.
As I reached Rob, his only comment was "what the f**k have you been doing" as he stuffed a lit rollie in my mouth. I had just soloed that then while he rolled the fags.
Put me off winter climbing on the Ben for 7 or 8 years.
Adam
In reply to Goucho:
Very reminiscent of my first Severe lead on Stanage pre-1970. Hemp waistline, a pair of borrowed EBs that were slightly too big, some home made nuts and a Moac. I only got one runner in and there was nobody around to rescue me. The route was Hargreave's Original route.
> 1970, 14 years old, about my 4th or 5th lead, Robin Hoods Right Hand Buttress at Stanage. Old Viking rope - tied round the waist, a pair of borrowed RD's IIRC, which were too big and about 4 bits of gear, none of which really fitted in either the crack or the horizontal breaks - I got one runner in before the traverse out under the overhang, and one runner about 10' up the main crack.
Very reminiscent of my first Severe lead on Stanage pre-1970. Hemp waistline, a pair of borrowed EBs that were slightly too big, some home made nuts and a Moac. I only got one runner in and there was nobody around to rescue me. The route was Hargreave's Original route.
Post edited at 13:15
In reply to DaveGoesClimbing:
(Probably) first HVS lead - Median in Meadfoot Quarry. Badly placed gear, what felt like thin holds and shaking. Moved up to the next hold and heard my belayer call, 'Just to let you know, you just kicked your last bit of gear out'.
Funnily enough, I think I was more scared before he shouted that. After that I just got on with it. Well, sort of.
(Probably) first HVS lead - Median in Meadfoot Quarry. Badly placed gear, what felt like thin holds and shaking. Moved up to the next hold and heard my belayer call, 'Just to let you know, you just kicked your last bit of gear out'.
Funnily enough, I think I was more scared before he shouted that. After that I just got on with it. Well, sort of.
In reply to DaveGoesClimbing:
Got off route after pulling trough a roof and finding myself on a 12m 5.10 slab without pro. I gave it a try but couldn't mentally deal with the runout so after 8m I felt that if I moved another muscle, I would come off. Fortunately some climbers at the belay above me could trow down a toprope, so I ended up with only a bruised ego. This made me aware that I should look at the guidebook better, as this pitch was supposed to be 5.7 with in situ pegs, a few meters to the left.
Got off route after pulling trough a roof and finding myself on a 12m 5.10 slab without pro. I gave it a try but couldn't mentally deal with the runout so after 8m I felt that if I moved another muscle, I would come off. Fortunately some climbers at the belay above me could trow down a toprope, so I ended up with only a bruised ego. This made me aware that I should look at the guidebook better, as this pitch was supposed to be 5.7 with in situ pegs, a few meters to the left.
In reply to DaveGoesClimbing:
"Oh we are going to tie in sitting on these nice sunny blocks on the middle moraine over there...."
Just about managed to avoid being swallowed by a crevasse on a snow free, flat bit of glacier when the crevasse lip broke under me, although two guys my weight had just stepped into exactly the same spot.
Lay awake all night thinking about dying on the day my youngest son starts school. Next night I managed to sleep, but constantly dreamt of falling.
The whole climbing trip was a bit spoilt, as I had to bail out on the next few summit attempts being to psychologically wrecked.
Only got my confidence back after doing some hardish and bold sports climbing on the crag next door, where I could convince myself that I was objectively safe even if I took a whipper.
CB
"Oh we are going to tie in sitting on these nice sunny blocks on the middle moraine over there...."
Just about managed to avoid being swallowed by a crevasse on a snow free, flat bit of glacier when the crevasse lip broke under me, although two guys my weight had just stepped into exactly the same spot.
Lay awake all night thinking about dying on the day my youngest son starts school. Next night I managed to sleep, but constantly dreamt of falling.
The whole climbing trip was a bit spoilt, as I had to bail out on the next few summit attempts being to psychologically wrecked.
Only got my confidence back after doing some hardish and bold sports climbing on the crag next door, where I could convince myself that I was objectively safe even if I took a whipper.
CB
In reply to DaveGoesClimbing:
1976 I guess. Martin was on lead wearing.... hush puppy shoes ... on an E2 (Centaur at Avon). My harness would have been a waistbelt probably with a figure of eight sling as leg loops.
Martin had traversed left from my belay .. I say belay, but it was just a single hand place peg behind a suspect block. There is no gear between us and as I watch him grimly fight for traction his face reddened with the effort. God hasn't heard much from me over the years but I must confess, that day I prayed and it was answered.
1976 I guess. Martin was on lead wearing.... hush puppy shoes ... on an E2 (Centaur at Avon). My harness would have been a waistbelt probably with a figure of eight sling as leg loops.
Martin had traversed left from my belay .. I say belay, but it was just a single hand place peg behind a suspect block. There is no gear between us and as I watch him grimly fight for traction his face reddened with the effort. God hasn't heard much from me over the years but I must confess, that day I prayed and it was answered.
In reply to DaveGoesClimbing:
The first time I got really scared on a rock climb - after climbing for about two years without any frights - was when it all started to go pear-shaped on an on-sight lead of Brant Direct in 1968. I've written about it quite recently [in a some best-selling book somewhere]
The first time I got really scared on a rock climb - after climbing for about two years without any frights - was when it all started to go pear-shaped on an on-sight lead of Brant Direct in 1968. I've written about it quite recently [in a some best-selling book somewhere]
In reply to DaveGoesClimbing:
When I was in my early 20s, I descended from the summit of Pillar to have a close look at Pillar Rock. After this diversion, I then needed to get back to Borrowdale. So I should have just retraced my steps or taken the climbers traverse back toward Kirk Fell. Instead I tried to descend down toward the valley bottom and the Black Sail Hut. Cue an absolutely terrifying and long escapade of loose rock, vegetation across traverses and many many stones kicked down gullies that took a looong time to return the noise of the rock hitting the floor. Lesson learned: never climb into a place you can't see a way out of!
Soloing Jacob's Ladder about seven years ago with only one axe. Two thirds of the way up at the part where the gradient steepens sharply. My left foot felt osuddenly odd as I kicked my crampon in - not quite as secure or as confident as before. I glanced down to see the crampon hanging off and only gravity keeping it in place. So I had to lean over diagonally across my body, hanging from one axe and one crampon in the snow to keep from peeling off, while trying to tighten the strap with one gloved hand! I got it as tight as I could and then kicked on. I topped out and lay near the edge on my back laughing almost hysterically as my heart was pumping out of my chest.
My biggest scare though was one of the times I've soloed Aladdin's Couloir. This was in mid December a little over three years ago. Very, very icy conditions and thin snow, so a slow methodical tread. Up near the top where one is traversing above the gully of Aladdin's Mirror, I was moving sideways across the slope in order to reach the funnel of the gully going up to the exit. As I made one sideways move, my right foot slipped down and out into space through the crap ice or snow, and I came down hard hanging on the two axes. My other crampon held though it steadied rather than balanced or supported me. I quickly kicked my dangling foot in again and got a more sure purchase this time. I prevaricated momentarily as I was attached to the slope again, then quickly decided to literally kick on before the consequences of what nearly happened to me hit hard and maybe took a hold. The sheets of ice and steep slopes under my feet meant I would almost certainly have shot straight down the slope and headlong down Aladdin's Mirror.
When I was in my early 20s, I descended from the summit of Pillar to have a close look at Pillar Rock. After this diversion, I then needed to get back to Borrowdale. So I should have just retraced my steps or taken the climbers traverse back toward Kirk Fell. Instead I tried to descend down toward the valley bottom and the Black Sail Hut. Cue an absolutely terrifying and long escapade of loose rock, vegetation across traverses and many many stones kicked down gullies that took a looong time to return the noise of the rock hitting the floor. Lesson learned: never climb into a place you can't see a way out of!
Soloing Jacob's Ladder about seven years ago with only one axe. Two thirds of the way up at the part where the gradient steepens sharply. My left foot felt osuddenly odd as I kicked my crampon in - not quite as secure or as confident as before. I glanced down to see the crampon hanging off and only gravity keeping it in place. So I had to lean over diagonally across my body, hanging from one axe and one crampon in the snow to keep from peeling off, while trying to tighten the strap with one gloved hand! I got it as tight as I could and then kicked on. I topped out and lay near the edge on my back laughing almost hysterically as my heart was pumping out of my chest.
My biggest scare though was one of the times I've soloed Aladdin's Couloir. This was in mid December a little over three years ago. Very, very icy conditions and thin snow, so a slow methodical tread. Up near the top where one is traversing above the gully of Aladdin's Mirror, I was moving sideways across the slope in order to reach the funnel of the gully going up to the exit. As I made one sideways move, my right foot slipped down and out into space through the crap ice or snow, and I came down hard hanging on the two axes. My other crampon held though it steadied rather than balanced or supported me. I quickly kicked my dangling foot in again and got a more sure purchase this time. I prevaricated momentarily as I was attached to the slope again, then quickly decided to literally kick on before the consequences of what nearly happened to me hit hard and maybe took a hold. The sheets of ice and steep slopes under my feet meant I would almost certainly have shot straight down the slope and headlong down Aladdin's Mirror.
In reply to DaveGoesClimbing:
As a teenager I broke through a crevasse and fell 13-14m until the rope went tight. Still no idea how my mate managed to hold that, the rope was very slack when the bridge went and I ended up with just blackness below, frigging fools.
At the time I remember being very calm and accepting of the situation, it wasn't until I was out of there that it dawned on me that I was utterly terrified...!
I took a break from climbing for a few years, just lost motivation and had work commitments etc. The bug bit again though, hard, and I regret letting it slip. I've since been back but I'm still keen to get over glaciers quickly.
As a teenager I broke through a crevasse and fell 13-14m until the rope went tight. Still no idea how my mate managed to hold that, the rope was very slack when the bridge went and I ended up with just blackness below, frigging fools.
At the time I remember being very calm and accepting of the situation, it wasn't until I was out of there that it dawned on me that I was utterly terrified...!
I took a break from climbing for a few years, just lost motivation and had work commitments etc. The bug bit again though, hard, and I regret letting it slip. I've since been back but I'm still keen to get over glaciers quickly.
Post edited at 19:30
In reply to alooker:
A similar thing happened to me in the 1960s. I found myself dangling over a black abyss, a bit like hanging from the ceiling of a cathedral. The really scary thing was that I could see the outlines of my two mates who had held me against the sun which was filtering through the the ice above me, and realised that they too were over the crevasse. If the ice had given way we would all have fallen into the abyss.
The other scary thing was in the Himalaya where between base camp and camp 1 we had to cross a couloir which was raked regularly by rock falls. The rocks varied in size from small pebbles to fridge sized lumps,even the occasional car sized chunk. It took about 5 mins to cross this, not easy with a heavy pack and thin air. Rock falls occurred on average about every 10 to 15 mins, but not regularly, so you had to pluck up courage to go for it. A few times one of us would get caught by a rock fall when all you could do was to try and get down behind the biggest boulder you could find and pray that if anything hit it, it would be smaller than it!
Certainly that couloir became the bete noire of us all, and I used to wake up in my sleeping bag having nightmares about crossing it - still do 25 years on.....
> As a teenager I broke through a crevasse and fell 13-14m until the rope went tight. Still no idea how my mate managed to hold that, the rope was very slack when the bridge went and I ended up with just blackness below.
>
A similar thing happened to me in the 1960s. I found myself dangling over a black abyss, a bit like hanging from the ceiling of a cathedral. The really scary thing was that I could see the outlines of my two mates who had held me against the sun which was filtering through the the ice above me, and realised that they too were over the crevasse. If the ice had given way we would all have fallen into the abyss.
The other scary thing was in the Himalaya where between base camp and camp 1 we had to cross a couloir which was raked regularly by rock falls. The rocks varied in size from small pebbles to fridge sized lumps,even the occasional car sized chunk. It took about 5 mins to cross this, not easy with a heavy pack and thin air. Rock falls occurred on average about every 10 to 15 mins, but not regularly, so you had to pluck up courage to go for it. A few times one of us would get caught by a rock fall when all you could do was to try and get down behind the biggest boulder you could find and pray that if anything hit it, it would be smaller than it!
Certainly that couloir became the bete noire of us all, and I used to wake up in my sleeping bag having nightmares about crossing it - still do 25 years on.....
In reply to Ramblin dave:
I'm the opposite. The groove is fine. But the first time I did the traverse, I was really struggling in general. Got over the traverse and then fell off the overhang.
I'm the opposite. The groove is fine. But the first time I did the traverse, I was really struggling in general. Got over the traverse and then fell off the overhang.
In reply to mattrm:
Strange. I remember Osiris as being a good, fun, enjoyable route, quite a lot easier than Isis or Horsis.
Strange. I remember Osiris as being a good, fun, enjoyable route, quite a lot easier than Isis or Horsis.
In reply to Gordon Stainforth:
Well they're HVS and it's a VS, so I'd hope it's easier. It was my first big, long (and it's generally regarded as being at the upper end of VS) limestone VS route, so I found it hard. I hadn't seconded many routes of that length or difficulty before either.
> Strange. I remember Osiris as being a good, fun, enjoyable route, quite a lot easier than Isis or Horsis.
Well they're HVS and it's a VS, so I'd hope it's easier. It was my first big, long (and it's generally regarded as being at the upper end of VS) limestone VS route, so I found it hard. I hadn't seconded many routes of that length or difficulty before either.
In reply to mattrm:
I hadn't done many HVSs by then, but quite a few VSs. My logbook says v enthusiastically 'Quite superb, one of the best limestone climbs I have done.' ... Getting nostalgic now: that was 44 years ago, in June 1970
I hadn't done many HVSs by then, but quite a few VSs. My logbook says v enthusiastically 'Quite superb, one of the best limestone climbs I have done.' ... Getting nostalgic now: that was 44 years ago, in June 1970
In reply to Gordon Stainforth:
You got on it before all the polish I bet. It must have been much nicer with a decent bit of friction on the traverse. It is a great route I'd agree, amazing territory to climb through at such a easy grade.
> I hadn't done many HVSs by then, but quite a few VSs. My logbook says v enthusiastically 'Quite superb, one of the best limestone climbs I have done.' ... Getting nostalgic now: that was 44 years ago, in June 1970
You got on it before all the polish I bet. It must have been much nicer with a decent bit of friction on the traverse. It is a great route I'd agree, amazing territory to climb through at such a easy grade.
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