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Do climbers today still go out and do daft stuff just for the mad fun and exhilaration, or is this something only folk from the 'old farts' generation did - I do hope not?
I'm talking about things like getting pissed in the Vaynol, and then deciding to do a midnight ascent of Brant Direct by headtorch. Or going up and doing The Grooves on Cyrn Las in the rain, or spending the night having a piss up on the half way ledge at Castell Helen, or doing Yo Yo in big boots and a sack, or getting seriously stoned and then seeing who can get from Ynys Ettws to Carregg Wasted, solo Wrinkle, then back to Ynys Ettws in the fastest time (actually just under 15 minutes won) or jumping across Owl Gully at Cratcliffe, or walking over Cairngorm to Loch Avon in less than perfect January weather to have a party under the Shelter Stone, or coming out of a heavy lunchtime session in the Dog & Gun in Keswick and deciding Nagasaki Grooves would be a good way to round the afternoon off with - it wasn't!!! or hitching up to The Ben from Manchester on a Saturday arriving at the CIC Hut at 3am, getting 3 hours kip propped up against a boulder, climbing The Curtain & Zero Gully and then hitching back to Manchester on the Sunday, finally getting back home at 5am Monday morning, 2 hours kip then into work for 9am.
These are just some of my personal recollections, and I know from people I've climbed with over the years, and also climbing folklore, of many other far madder things people have done in the past.
But do people still do this kind of thing, or are we all to preoccupied with health & safety - or more sensible and mature - these days?
I'm talking about things like getting pissed in the Vaynol, and then deciding to do a midnight ascent of Brant Direct by headtorch. Or going up and doing The Grooves on Cyrn Las in the rain, or spending the night having a piss up on the half way ledge at Castell Helen, or doing Yo Yo in big boots and a sack, or getting seriously stoned and then seeing who can get from Ynys Ettws to Carregg Wasted, solo Wrinkle, then back to Ynys Ettws in the fastest time (actually just under 15 minutes won) or jumping across Owl Gully at Cratcliffe, or walking over Cairngorm to Loch Avon in less than perfect January weather to have a party under the Shelter Stone, or coming out of a heavy lunchtime session in the Dog & Gun in Keswick and deciding Nagasaki Grooves would be a good way to round the afternoon off with - it wasn't!!! or hitching up to The Ben from Manchester on a Saturday arriving at the CIC Hut at 3am, getting 3 hours kip propped up against a boulder, climbing The Curtain & Zero Gully and then hitching back to Manchester on the Sunday, finally getting back home at 5am Monday morning, 2 hours kip then into work for 9am.
These are just some of my personal recollections, and I know from people I've climbed with over the years, and also climbing folklore, of many other far madder things people have done in the past.
But do people still do this kind of thing, or are we all to preoccupied with health & safety - or more sensible and mature - these days?
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In reply to Goucho:
That's like 50% of my weekends last winter (without the hitching bit, and actually inside the CIC)
> or hitching up to The Ben from Manchester on a Saturday arriving at the CIC Hut at 3am, getting 3 hours kip propped up against a boulder, climbing The Curtain & Zero Gully and then hitching back to Manchester on the Sunday, finally getting back home at 5am Monday morning, 2 hours kip then into work for 9am.
That's like 50% of my weekends last winter (without the hitching bit, and actually inside the CIC)
In reply to Goucho:
I doubt it's a coincidence that most of your examples seem to involve getting heroically drunk prior to said adventure. Last year myself and a few friends did this: http://planetmarshall.co.uk/2014/03/13/a-night-time-ascent-of-tower-ridge.h... . No alcohol was required.
I doubt it's a coincidence that most of your examples seem to involve getting heroically drunk prior to said adventure. Last year myself and a few friends did this: http://planetmarshall.co.uk/2014/03/13/a-night-time-ascent-of-tower-ridge.h... . No alcohol was required.
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In reply to Goucho: As a member of the 'old farts' generation, when living in Texas, a change of job caused the loss of a holiday in Utah. I had set my hopes on Supercrack, Incredible Hand Crack and Twin Cracks during the week. Not to be disappointed, I had a day off on the Tuesday. Left work at 4:30pm Monday, drove 14 hours, lead the three routes, then went back and top roped Supercrack for the hell of it, got in the car at 4:00 in the afternoon, drove back for 14 hours and went into work for 8:30am on the Wednesday. Not that I was a lot of use, but being senior management no one noticed!
This was 5 years ago to celebrate my 61st birthday!
I have a similar list to yours. Life was fun, and somehow I am still alive!
This was 5 years ago to celebrate my 61st birthday!
I have a similar list to yours. Life was fun, and somehow I am still alive!
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In reply to John Roberts (JR):
Lucky sod
> That's like 50% of my weekends last winter (without the hitching bit, and actually inside the CIC)
Lucky sod
In reply to planetmarshall:
Not all the time, but I'd sooner blame some of my exploits on alcohol and other substances, than admit to my sanity being suspect.
And your night ascent of Tower Ridge is a most excellent adventure sir.
> I doubt it's a coincidence that most of your examples seem to involve getting heroically drunk prior to said adventure. Last year myself and a few friends did this: http://planetmarshall.co.uk/2014/03/13/a-night-time-ascent-of-tower-ridge.h... . No alcohol was required.
Not all the time, but I'd sooner blame some of my exploits on alcohol and other substances, than admit to my sanity being suspect.
And your night ascent of Tower Ridge is a most excellent adventure sir.
Post edited at 14:43
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In reply to Goucho:
Dunno if it qualifies but winter before last my pal and I drove from after work Friday evening in Cornwall, to Torridon. One hour sleep them traversed Liathach. Drank a bottle of whisky that night, traversed Beinn Alligin on the Sunday, drove back to Cornwall had an hour's sleep then straight into work on the Monday.
Pretty damn silly by some folk's standards; others less so.
Dunno if it qualifies but winter before last my pal and I drove from after work Friday evening in Cornwall, to Torridon. One hour sleep them traversed Liathach. Drank a bottle of whisky that night, traversed Beinn Alligin on the Sunday, drove back to Cornwall had an hour's sleep then straight into work on the Monday.
Pretty damn silly by some folk's standards; others less so.
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In reply to Tom Last:
That's the spirit - pardon the pun
> Dunno if it qualifies but winter before last my pal and I drove from after work Friday evening in Cornwall, to Torridon. One hour sleep them traversed Liathach. Drank a bottle of whisky that night, traversed Beinn Alligin on the Sunday, drove back to Cornwall had an hour's sleep then straight into work on the Monday.
> Pretty damn silly by some folk's standards; others less so.
That's the spirit - pardon the pun
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In reply to Goucho:
No, just preoccupied with being cool I suspect.
> But do people still do this kind of thing, or are we all to preoccupied with health & safety - or more sensible and mature - these days?
No, just preoccupied with being cool I suspect.
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In reply to Goucho:
I drove from Sheffield to Scotland every weekend bar one from mid Jan to Easter this year... Does that count?
We once got so pissed in Chamonix that we thought it was a good idea to break into the bus depot and take the bus for a short excursion.
I can remember being too tight/demotivated to pay for the climbing wall. Instead I drove to Tremadog and did 5 routes in the dark.
It was pissing with rain on my wedding morning so we all climbed Helfenstein's Struggle... I couldn't/wouldn't get through so my mates all heaved me out. http://tomripleyclimbing.blogspot.co.uk/2014_05_01_archive.html
On a similar note, on the previous day it was also too wet to climb. Undeterred we did Fingal's Flue at Stoney. On a later date I came back and did the even more bonkers Fingal's Cave.
I drove from Sheffield to Scotland every weekend bar one from mid Jan to Easter this year... Does that count?
We once got so pissed in Chamonix that we thought it was a good idea to break into the bus depot and take the bus for a short excursion.
I can remember being too tight/demotivated to pay for the climbing wall. Instead I drove to Tremadog and did 5 routes in the dark.
It was pissing with rain on my wedding morning so we all climbed Helfenstein's Struggle... I couldn't/wouldn't get through so my mates all heaved me out. http://tomripleyclimbing.blogspot.co.uk/2014_05_01_archive.html
On a similar note, on the previous day it was also too wet to climb. Undeterred we did Fingal's Flue at Stoney. On a later date I came back and did the even more bonkers Fingal's Cave.
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In reply to Goucho:
Basically, the question you are asking: "Is anyone else an alcoholic pothead? Or is it just me?"
Basically, the question you are asking: "Is anyone else an alcoholic pothead? Or is it just me?"
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In reply to planetmarshall:
Cook's leap, Nicki's leap, just for the fun of it, quite sober m'lud.
> I doubt it's a coincidence that most of your examples seem to involve getting heroically drunk prior to said adventure.
Broke my ankle falling off L'Horla as part of a very 'refreshed' (Bridge Inn I think) soloing conga zig-zagging up and down routes at Curbar. Soloing Spiral Stairs in the dark and rain after a full day's beer and pool in the Vaynol. Cook's leap, Nicki's leap, just for the fun of it, quite sober m'lud.
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In reply to Dell:
You missed out the LSD, Speed and Amphetamines, but it was a long time ago, and apart from the odd nervous twitch in my left eye, I haven't suffered any permanent side effects and don't touch anything naughty these days - well apart from snorting the odd line of baking soda off Mrs Goucho.
> Basically, the question you are asking: "Is anyone else an alcoholic pothead? Or is it just me?"
You missed out the LSD, Speed and Amphetamines, but it was a long time ago, and apart from the odd nervous twitch in my left eye, I haven't suffered any permanent side effects and don't touch anything naughty these days - well apart from snorting the odd line of baking soda off Mrs Goucho.
Post edited at 15:09
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In reply to Goucho:
Fear not Goucho, I don't think any of that has stopped.
The young are still away being young, thankfully.
A cursory glance at some blogs would help you find plenty of evidence of what you're after.
And the same folk will be about in twenty years time to write long columns about it in the mags - as will their kids twenty years later.
"I remember making do with just four Totem cams and their annoying bendy heads. But we didn't grumble..."
D.
Fear not Goucho, I don't think any of that has stopped.
The young are still away being young, thankfully.
A cursory glance at some blogs would help you find plenty of evidence of what you're after.
And the same folk will be about in twenty years time to write long columns about it in the mags - as will their kids twenty years later.
"I remember making do with just four Totem cams and their annoying bendy heads. But we didn't grumble..."
D.
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In reply to Goucho:
I'll let you in on a secret.
Nothing really changes. Young people still get drunk and do mad things, get bored and do mad things, want to impress the other sex and do mad things, do mad things just because it's fun.
Old folks still reminisce about their exploits and if capable and get the chance still do mad things.
meanwhile, old folks still think the young or dumber, more boring, more badly behaved, don't know how lucky they are etc
and young folk think old folks are boring, grumpy, and have forgotten what it's like to be young and probably never partied as hard.
I'll let you in on a secret.
Nothing really changes. Young people still get drunk and do mad things, get bored and do mad things, want to impress the other sex and do mad things, do mad things just because it's fun.
Old folks still reminisce about their exploits and if capable and get the chance still do mad things.
meanwhile, old folks still think the young or dumber, more boring, more badly behaved, don't know how lucky they are etc
and young folk think old folks are boring, grumpy, and have forgotten what it's like to be young and probably never partied as hard.
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In reply to Goucho:
All that takes me back to so many spiffing wheezes as the late Tim Lewis used to refer to them. Few examples. See how many could climb a tree at Lawrencefield. All was going well until Paul Nunn climbed it and it snapped depositing everybody in a heap, so we all went soloing instead. Taking a bean tin climbing with Doug Scott & Tim Lewis [that man again!] at the Roaches after a few mushrooms and getting told off by other climbers for disgraceful behavior.[said tin was tied onto a rope between us]. Soloing Our Father after a Moon session. Set off at midnight on Derwent Watershed race, finished in 2nd place team, breakfast, drive to Cardiff Arms Park to see England V Wales, skinful in the pub, bottle of whisky for the match, curry in Leicester on way home and more beer, back home to Tideswell. Climbing the next day. Drink and substances was always the catalyst for years of fun and I cant remember anyone actually getting killed [plenty injured] other than Al Harris and that was always going to happen.
All that takes me back to so many spiffing wheezes as the late Tim Lewis used to refer to them. Few examples. See how many could climb a tree at Lawrencefield. All was going well until Paul Nunn climbed it and it snapped depositing everybody in a heap, so we all went soloing instead. Taking a bean tin climbing with Doug Scott & Tim Lewis [that man again!] at the Roaches after a few mushrooms and getting told off by other climbers for disgraceful behavior.[said tin was tied onto a rope between us]. Soloing Our Father after a Moon session. Set off at midnight on Derwent Watershed race, finished in 2nd place team, breakfast, drive to Cardiff Arms Park to see England V Wales, skinful in the pub, bottle of whisky for the match, curry in Leicester on way home and more beer, back home to Tideswell. Climbing the next day. Drink and substances was always the catalyst for years of fun and I cant remember anyone actually getting killed [plenty injured] other than Al Harris and that was always going to happen.
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In reply to rocksol:
Your solo of Our Father after a skinful has got to be right up there Phil.
I too can't recall that many casualties, and as you say Harris was always going to happen - I recall having one of his strawberry milkshakes at Bigill once....only once...I was still recovering from it 2 days later.
Your solo of Our Father after a skinful has got to be right up there Phil.
I too can't recall that many casualties, and as you say Harris was always going to happen - I recall having one of his strawberry milkshakes at Bigill once....only once...I was still recovering from it 2 days later.
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In reply to rocksol:
Remembering Tim brings a smile. Thank you.
Mick
> ...Tim Lewis [that man again!]
Remembering Tim brings a smile. Thank you.
Mick
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In reply to Goucho:
Dunno what to say to that. I suppose my wild days with similar stories were done in the late teens at raves or in the army early 20s. If i was climbing then maybe it would be different.
Hey Goucho, (ask a silly question once and all that) how did you make your money?? You seem down to earth for a rich fella!
Dunno what to say to that. I suppose my wild days with similar stories were done in the late teens at raves or in the army early 20s. If i was climbing then maybe it would be different.
Hey Goucho, (ask a silly question once and all that) how did you make your money?? You seem down to earth for a rich fella!
In reply to Oogachooga:
I got lucky, plus I had some very talented people who I was fortunate and privileged to have work with me
And then about 4 years ago, a big company came along and bought us out.
> Hey Goucho, (ask a silly question once and all that) how did you make your money?? You seem down to earth for a rich fella!
I got lucky, plus I had some very talented people who I was fortunate and privileged to have work with me
And then about 4 years ago, a big company came along and bought us out.
Post edited at 17:58
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In reply to Goucho:
I climbed Wreckers Slab on a beautiful moonlit summer night, one headtorch between the two off us. The second just rattled the ropes to hear where the next runner was, and smeared and slapped towards it. Awesome climb!
Also short roped Bosi ridge at night while pissed, that was fun.
I climbed Wreckers Slab on a beautiful moonlit summer night, one headtorch between the two off us. The second just rattled the ropes to hear where the next runner was, and smeared and slapped towards it. Awesome climb!
Also short roped Bosi ridge at night while pissed, that was fun.
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In reply to Goucho:
Fear not, us younger climbers still go and do "daft stuff".
My mate and I after drinking numerous free pints of purple moose, and listening to Hazel Findley's talk, at Tremadog Festival this year, decided we should (rope) solo Hail Bebe in two long-pitches in our rather merry state; I tripped over a few times on the way up through the wood, which didn't bode well, nonetheless, we downed a pint each before we set off up the awkward start and had a lovely time.
In hindsight it probably wasn't the smartest idea but hey ho, such is life.
Fear not, us younger climbers still go and do "daft stuff".
My mate and I after drinking numerous free pints of purple moose, and listening to Hazel Findley's talk, at Tremadog Festival this year, decided we should (rope) solo Hail Bebe in two long-pitches in our rather merry state; I tripped over a few times on the way up through the wood, which didn't bode well, nonetheless, we downed a pint each before we set off up the awkward start and had a lovely time.
In hindsight it probably wasn't the smartest idea but hey ho, such is life.
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In reply to David Gainor:
That sounds like fun.
> I climbed Wreckers Slab on a beautiful moonlit summer night, one headtorch between the two off us. The second just rattled the ropes to hear where the next runner was, and smeared and slapped towards it. Awesome climb!
That sounds like fun.
In reply to Goucho:
When I was caving post pub trips were popular. This was probably safer than climbing as one could bounce about the tight Mendip caves without damaging oneself much. There was one particularly unpleasant cave next to our club hut that was rarely attempted whilst sober.
When I was caving post pub trips were popular. This was probably safer than climbing as one could bounce about the tight Mendip caves without damaging oneself much. There was one particularly unpleasant cave next to our club hut that was rarely attempted whilst sober.
In reply to Tom Last:
Respect!!
Mind you, that's why you should live in Devon mate, far closer to Torridon....!!
> Dunno if it qualifies but winter before last my pal and I drove from after work Friday evening in Cornwall, to Torridon. One hour sleep them traversed Liathach. Drank a bottle of whisky that night, traversed Beinn Alligin on the Sunday, drove back to Cornwall had an hour's sleep then straight into work on the Monday.
> Pretty damn silly by some folk's standards; others less so.
Respect!!
Mind you, that's why you should live in Devon mate, far closer to Torridon....!!
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In reply to Goucho:
Yep, I can confirm that stuff like this still happens all the time. I could tell you numerous tales of similar goings-on from my years at the Clachaig.
Young people are still young people!
Yep, I can confirm that stuff like this still happens all the time. I could tell you numerous tales of similar goings-on from my years at the Clachaig.
Young people are still young people!
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In reply to Goucho:
I love these kind of threads.
Did a lot of classic rock routes in Glencoe in big boots (RDs and Koflachs), full waterproofs and with a pack in bucketing rain. Water running down sleeves and filling up boots. For a laugh we also did Clachaig Gully after it had been raining solidly for about a month and the waterfalls were huge. Retrospective pleasure including constant shivering, darkness coinciding with snow and the small matter of me following through. All this was with my mate Brian who was training to get into the Royal Marines and would run every day from the Clachaig down to Glencoe village, back up the main road to the old NTS visitor centre where he'd get into the river and fight his up to the bridge then run back to the pub and into a hot shower before he died of hypothermia; every day, dressed in army boots and trousers and a fetching off white Damart top.
-
A very drunken party in Edinburgh wound down around 5am so I left and hitched to Aberdeen. Arrival there coincided with opening time so I rang my mate from the Blue Lamp and sank 4 pints for breakfast while waiting for him. He arrived at about 1100 and we went to Earnsheugh where I led Death Cap. I think I was only climbing about E1 on a good day then as well.
-
Mal Duff’s mind-over-matter antics were a bad influence. On the odd warm, still summer night in Glencoe, a few of us (pissed) went to the swamp (down from the Clachaig, now a SSSI), stripped to our underwear and just stood there and endured/inhaled the midgies. The last one to run inside was the winner. We did this camping at Polldubh once as well, which was even worse. I always won.
I love these kind of threads.
Did a lot of classic rock routes in Glencoe in big boots (RDs and Koflachs), full waterproofs and with a pack in bucketing rain. Water running down sleeves and filling up boots. For a laugh we also did Clachaig Gully after it had been raining solidly for about a month and the waterfalls were huge. Retrospective pleasure including constant shivering, darkness coinciding with snow and the small matter of me following through. All this was with my mate Brian who was training to get into the Royal Marines and would run every day from the Clachaig down to Glencoe village, back up the main road to the old NTS visitor centre where he'd get into the river and fight his up to the bridge then run back to the pub and into a hot shower before he died of hypothermia; every day, dressed in army boots and trousers and a fetching off white Damart top.
-
A very drunken party in Edinburgh wound down around 5am so I left and hitched to Aberdeen. Arrival there coincided with opening time so I rang my mate from the Blue Lamp and sank 4 pints for breakfast while waiting for him. He arrived at about 1100 and we went to Earnsheugh where I led Death Cap. I think I was only climbing about E1 on a good day then as well.
-
Mal Duff’s mind-over-matter antics were a bad influence. On the odd warm, still summer night in Glencoe, a few of us (pissed) went to the swamp (down from the Clachaig, now a SSSI), stripped to our underwear and just stood there and endured/inhaled the midgies. The last one to run inside was the winner. We did this camping at Polldubh once as well, which was even worse. I always won.
Post edited at 21:06
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In reply to Goucho:
Last summer, having just led Bela Legosi (which felt like my first proper E1), we decided to do Snakes and Ladders at night - having never done it before and not having much idea at all were it went. Safe to say we got proper lost in the bottom of Australia and eventually my age got the better of Jordon's youth and we bailed to the Pass to boulder. Daft idea all round really but we had a right laugh at the time.
Last summer, having just led Bela Legosi (which felt like my first proper E1), we decided to do Snakes and Ladders at night - having never done it before and not having much idea at all were it went. Safe to say we got proper lost in the bottom of Australia and eventually my age got the better of Jordon's youth and we bailed to the Pass to boulder. Daft idea all round really but we had a right laugh at the time.
In reply to Removed User:
Ah yes, I remember doing Clachaig in almost full spate - soaked to the skin by the Cave pitch, and swimming by the time we hit Jericho Wall.
I also remember coming out of the Clachaig after a skinful on New Years Eve - very nearly getting a slap from Big Ian Nicholson for rowdy behavior - looking up at a cloudless clear sky with an almost full moon and the stars twinkling, and gazing across at the Aonach Eagach and thinking, yeah, why not. A couple of hours later we were crunching along a crest of perfect neve enjoying a wonderful night time crossing in reverse. Mind you, by the time we reached the Chancellor, the cold night air had sobered us up, and the hangovers had started kicking in
After another particularly heavy duty session in the Kingshouse one Saturday night, we decided to round the evening off with a trip up Curved Ridge. So as not to alert the MRT, we didn't take headtorches, which certainly added some spice to proceedings, and also nearly resulted in us embarking up Slime Wall by mistake. When we reached the top of the Buachaille several hours later, we opened a few cans along with a rather large communal spliff, and gazed out across Rannoch Moor until we eventually fell asleep/passed out. We were woken the next morning by a group of walkers tutting indignantly at the three of us unconscious surrounded by empty beer cans and one of our party still with the remains of the spliff between his fingers and the front of his duvet covered in vomit.
I also remember waking up after another heavy lunchtime session on the belay after the first pitch of Carnivore. I was clipped into good gear, and tied into the rope, but I was completely alone. To this day, I have no recollection how I got there, or who I got there with???
Ah, those were the days
Ah yes, I remember doing Clachaig in almost full spate - soaked to the skin by the Cave pitch, and swimming by the time we hit Jericho Wall.
I also remember coming out of the Clachaig after a skinful on New Years Eve - very nearly getting a slap from Big Ian Nicholson for rowdy behavior - looking up at a cloudless clear sky with an almost full moon and the stars twinkling, and gazing across at the Aonach Eagach and thinking, yeah, why not. A couple of hours later we were crunching along a crest of perfect neve enjoying a wonderful night time crossing in reverse. Mind you, by the time we reached the Chancellor, the cold night air had sobered us up, and the hangovers had started kicking in
After another particularly heavy duty session in the Kingshouse one Saturday night, we decided to round the evening off with a trip up Curved Ridge. So as not to alert the MRT, we didn't take headtorches, which certainly added some spice to proceedings, and also nearly resulted in us embarking up Slime Wall by mistake. When we reached the top of the Buachaille several hours later, we opened a few cans along with a rather large communal spliff, and gazed out across Rannoch Moor until we eventually fell asleep/passed out. We were woken the next morning by a group of walkers tutting indignantly at the three of us unconscious surrounded by empty beer cans and one of our party still with the remains of the spliff between his fingers and the front of his duvet covered in vomit.
I also remember waking up after another heavy lunchtime session on the belay after the first pitch of Carnivore. I was clipped into good gear, and tied into the rope, but I was completely alone. To this day, I have no recollection how I got there, or who I got there with???
Ah, those were the days
Post edited at 21:53
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In reply to Goucho:
Pretty much snap on the Aonach Eagach one, save for it not being Hogmanay.
Have to tell this one, it is so what made me, a young lost soul, want to 'be' a climber.
First visit to Glencoe with older friends, Clachaig, winter, lots of snow, drunk Friday night with 6 of us in a VW bay. In the morning we heard that a ferry had sunk out of Zeebrugge Harbour with many deaths. Anyway, I got up early and went out for a pee. It was still dark. I watched a little escort van disgorge its inhabitants: two dudes in Javelin salopettes, lots of hair and those chiffon type German hippie scarves we used to wear. One had a piss, the other rolled a tab. Then the back doors of the van opened. Lots of gear I had never seen before came flying out; plastic boots, weird axes with reverse curved picks, clanky shit, ropes etc. Then a third guy emerged, similarly dressed, huge afro. He stumbled a bit, coughed, bent double and vomited his life out. The other two applauded. Then they packed their rucksacks and went climbing. It was beautiful. I realised that I'd found what I'd been looking for.
Pretty much snap on the Aonach Eagach one, save for it not being Hogmanay.
Have to tell this one, it is so what made me, a young lost soul, want to 'be' a climber.
First visit to Glencoe with older friends, Clachaig, winter, lots of snow, drunk Friday night with 6 of us in a VW bay. In the morning we heard that a ferry had sunk out of Zeebrugge Harbour with many deaths. Anyway, I got up early and went out for a pee. It was still dark. I watched a little escort van disgorge its inhabitants: two dudes in Javelin salopettes, lots of hair and those chiffon type German hippie scarves we used to wear. One had a piss, the other rolled a tab. Then the back doors of the van opened. Lots of gear I had never seen before came flying out; plastic boots, weird axes with reverse curved picks, clanky shit, ropes etc. Then a third guy emerged, similarly dressed, huge afro. He stumbled a bit, coughed, bent double and vomited his life out. The other two applauded. Then they packed their rucksacks and went climbing. It was beautiful. I realised that I'd found what I'd been looking for.
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In reply to Removed User:
When climbers were climbers and sheep were nervous
One of our group around the late 70's had a penchant for dropping tabs of acid in your pint when you weren't looking. This often resulted in funny things happening, but none so funny as when it happened in the Clachaig one lunctime, and a couple of ours later, one of our group trying to climb the first pitch of Spartan Slab (the slabs were quite busy that day) with his hands in his pockets because he was hallucinating it was a pavement.
He spent the next hour getting no further than 2 foot up it, falling over repeatedly, until he suddenly stopped, untied, stood on top of the coffin stone, then shouted out 'Is that you Uncle Norman?' before running off down the scree in the direction of Loch Etive continuously shouting 'Wait for me, wait for me'.
We eventually found him about 3 hours later having a very in depth conversation with a Rhododendron bush on the banks of the Loch.
When climbers were climbers and sheep were nervous
One of our group around the late 70's had a penchant for dropping tabs of acid in your pint when you weren't looking. This often resulted in funny things happening, but none so funny as when it happened in the Clachaig one lunctime, and a couple of ours later, one of our group trying to climb the first pitch of Spartan Slab (the slabs were quite busy that day) with his hands in his pockets because he was hallucinating it was a pavement.
He spent the next hour getting no further than 2 foot up it, falling over repeatedly, until he suddenly stopped, untied, stood on top of the coffin stone, then shouted out 'Is that you Uncle Norman?' before running off down the scree in the direction of Loch Etive continuously shouting 'Wait for me, wait for me'.
We eventually found him about 3 hours later having a very in depth conversation with a Rhododendron bush on the banks of the Loch.
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In reply to Goucho:
I've been guilty of doing some fairly non-sensible things in my time. Many of them whilst far far beyond any sensible limit of drink and or pharmaceuticals.
Now I'm old, sensible and living with the kind of injuries that don't improve with time, I'm jealous in a wistful kind of way of hearing of these tales of derring-do and wish I'd done more crazy shit while I was young enough to not care about possible consequences.
The only brain addled climbing topic that springs to mind is The Wine Dark Sea (E1 5a) after a spliff and various university buildings traversed window to window after too many pints.
I've been guilty of doing some fairly non-sensible things in my time. Many of them whilst far far beyond any sensible limit of drink and or pharmaceuticals.
Now I'm old, sensible and living with the kind of injuries that don't improve with time, I'm jealous in a wistful kind of way of hearing of these tales of derring-do and wish I'd done more crazy shit while I was young enough to not care about possible consequences.
The only brain addled climbing topic that springs to mind is The Wine Dark Sea (E1 5a) after a spliff and various university buildings traversed window to window after too many pints.
In reply to Scarab9:
It's funny, I've definitely done plenty of things my dad wouldn't have done, or do, but I'd never have gone/go soloing in the dark with a head torch after four pints on an empty stomach like he used to during his thirties, but for him it used to be a regular thing. All I've ever done is boring old 'sober' soloing.
> I'll let you in on a secret.
> Nothing really changes. Young people still get drunk and do mad things, get bored and do mad things, want to impress the other sex and do mad things, do mad things just because it's fun.
> Old folks still reminisce about their exploits and if capable and get the chance still do mad things.
> meanwhile, old folks still think the young or dumber, more boring, more badly behaved, don't know how lucky they are etc
> and young folk think old folks are boring, grumpy, and have forgotten what it's like to be young and probably never partied as hard.
> Nothing really changes. Young people still get drunk and do mad things, get bored and do mad things, want to impress the other sex and do mad things, do mad things just because it's fun.
> Old folks still reminisce about their exploits and if capable and get the chance still do mad things.
> meanwhile, old folks still think the young or dumber, more boring, more badly behaved, don't know how lucky they are etc
> and young folk think old folks are boring, grumpy, and have forgotten what it's like to be young and probably never partied as hard.
It's funny, I've definitely done plenty of things my dad wouldn't have done, or do, but I'd never have gone/go soloing in the dark with a head torch after four pints on an empty stomach like he used to during his thirties, but for him it used to be a regular thing. All I've ever done is boring old 'sober' soloing.
Post edited at 22:36
In reply to Timmd:
This is what scares me. I worry about what my spawn could possibly do that might upstage what I used to get up to.
I think there's an evolution of crazy exciting behaviour with each generation doing more and better things.
*in some directions. Smoking seems to be less prevalent, "adventure" seems to be more normalised
> It's funny, I've definitely done plenty of things my dad wouldn't have done
This is what scares me. I worry about what my spawn could possibly do that might upstage what I used to get up to.
I think there's an evolution of crazy exciting behaviour with each generation doing more and better things.
*in some directions. Smoking seems to be less prevalent, "adventure" seems to be more normalised
In reply to cuppatea:
I've got a feeling that people are a bit more circumspect about what they'll do when they're drunk these days, possibly as a result of the campaign to denormalize drunk driving carrying over into other activities.
But I might just have failed to fall in with a bad enough crowd...
I've got a feeling that people are a bit more circumspect about what they'll do when they're drunk these days, possibly as a result of the campaign to denormalize drunk driving carrying over into other activities.
But I might just have failed to fall in with a bad enough crowd...
2
In reply to cuppatea:
Other than mind altering things, it was mainly having no sense of my own mortality on my road bike and while high bouldering/soloing as a teenager that were the risky things I did, but even at the time I'd have never got merrily drunk and gone soloing, so it's weird to me that he did in his 30's, this was the seventies though when drinking and driving was more normalised, as they'd have all driven home after soloing on a few pints. A different era I guess.
I'm quite interested in seeing how my nieces and nephew turn out to do with how they approach different kinds of risk.
Other than mind altering things, it was mainly having no sense of my own mortality on my road bike and while high bouldering/soloing as a teenager that were the risky things I did, but even at the time I'd have never got merrily drunk and gone soloing, so it's weird to me that he did in his 30's, this was the seventies though when drinking and driving was more normalised, as they'd have all driven home after soloing on a few pints. A different era I guess.
I'm quite interested in seeing how my nieces and nephew turn out to do with how they approach different kinds of risk.
Post edited at 00:16
In reply to Ramblin dave:
I'd be wary about getting too drunk if I'd woken up after a binge to discover I'd cut the end of my cock off.
> I've got a feeling that people are a bit more circumspect about what they'll do when they're drunk these days,
I'd be wary about getting too drunk if I'd woken up after a binge to discover I'd cut the end of my cock off.
1
In reply to Goucho:
12 hour night shift finishing at 6am, mad dash to borrowdale and great end, window gully and back to the car, back to Blackpool and in work for 18.00 and another 12 hour night shift. Man I was wasted but what a buzz!
12 hour night shift finishing at 6am, mad dash to borrowdale and great end, window gully and back to the car, back to Blackpool and in work for 18.00 and another 12 hour night shift. Man I was wasted but what a buzz!
2
2
In reply to Mick Ward:
Thanks Mick. It seemed ok at the time for various reasons largely due to those damn herbal cigarettes.
However it was 5c, one mistake would have been fatal, and in retrospect it was probably not such a great idea!
We did this for most of the day. I'm sure we had a rope and stuff somewhere but somehow it was deemed an unnecessary encumbrance.
Hmmm.
Thanks Mick. It seemed ok at the time for various reasons largely due to those damn herbal cigarettes.
However it was 5c, one mistake would have been fatal, and in retrospect it was probably not such a great idea!
We did this for most of the day. I'm sure we had a rope and stuff somewhere but somehow it was deemed an unnecessary encumbrance.
Hmmm.
In reply to Goucho:
Climbing silly, no.
General life silly, hell yes.
As an example, a couple of years back I was on a group holiday with my kayaking club to Cornwall.
One night a couple of the 18 year old lads drove in to town to get beer and I went with.
The lad in the back called me an old fart (I was 38) because we were driving through a surf town and I didn't have the window down with my arm out so whilst his mate was driving I opened the window, climbed out on to the roof. Did a bit of roof surfing and then went to knock on the back window to be let back in.
When I climbed back in the look on the faces of these 2 kids was awesome. They couldn't believe that someone their dad's age would do something like that.
Climbing silly, no.
General life silly, hell yes.
As an example, a couple of years back I was on a group holiday with my kayaking club to Cornwall.
One night a couple of the 18 year old lads drove in to town to get beer and I went with.
The lad in the back called me an old fart (I was 38) because we were driving through a surf town and I didn't have the window down with my arm out so whilst his mate was driving I opened the window, climbed out on to the roof. Did a bit of roof surfing and then went to knock on the back window to be let back in.
When I climbed back in the look on the faces of these 2 kids was awesome. They couldn't believe that someone their dad's age would do something like that.
4
In reply to Goucho:
Ah, nostalgia isn't what it used to be.
One way to become old and wise is to be young and stupid. In my case, young and stupid has led to being old and stupid with occasional sensible moments.
Ah, nostalgia isn't what it used to be.
One way to become old and wise is to be young and stupid. In my case, young and stupid has led to being old and stupid with occasional sensible moments.
1
In reply to Goucho:
This thread makes me want to disregard grades, forget about gear and go wild camping with a big piece of meat and a bottle of whiskey and see what happens.
This thread makes me want to disregard grades, forget about gear and go wild camping with a big piece of meat and a bottle of whiskey and see what happens.
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In reply to Mark Haward:
I think climbers in particular, have a duty to grow old disgracefully
> Ah, nostalgia isn't what it used to be.
> One way to become old and wise is to be young and stupid. In my case, young and stupid has led to being old and stupid with occasional sensible moments.
I think climbers in particular, have a duty to grow old disgracefully
1
In reply to Goucho:
Yes. Stupidity and silliness never go out of fashion. North Rhinogau barefoot and/or naked for a dare probably counts. Mam Tor Gully after an acrimonious whisky-fuelled night of arguing with the gf. It was gopping. Lucky to be alive, but fair play to the gf, she turned up as I came down and did it too. In her pyjamas. Attempting to swim a 1/4 K of Llyn Pryfed naked. Nearly died. Skinny dipping in half-frozen lakes. Too much soloing when I was a teenager. Pouring stove fuel down Chudleigh while bivvying one night just because we wanted to see what a cliff on fire looked like. Oh etc. I could go on but it would be boring. Oh, and loads of winter stuff in Torridon with one ice axe (for cutting steps, obviously) and a pensioner's walking stick with a nail in the end, and not a crampon between the three of us.
Yes. Stupidity and silliness never go out of fashion. North Rhinogau barefoot and/or naked for a dare probably counts. Mam Tor Gully after an acrimonious whisky-fuelled night of arguing with the gf. It was gopping. Lucky to be alive, but fair play to the gf, she turned up as I came down and did it too. In her pyjamas. Attempting to swim a 1/4 K of Llyn Pryfed naked. Nearly died. Skinny dipping in half-frozen lakes. Too much soloing when I was a teenager. Pouring stove fuel down Chudleigh while bivvying one night just because we wanted to see what a cliff on fire looked like. Oh etc. I could go on but it would be boring. Oh, and loads of winter stuff in Torridon with one ice axe (for cutting steps, obviously) and a pensioner's walking stick with a nail in the end, and not a crampon between the three of us.
1
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