The weather hit us two pitches from the top of Cloggy. We got off before the worst arrived, but by the time we had trudged back to Llanberis we were thoroughly drenched. We checked the forecast to assess our options for tomorrow. The rain was all encompassing.

My mate, George, was due to go back home in the South Peak the next day, so we looked for dry options further east.

Roaches; raining.

Stanage; soggy.

New Mills Tor; who wants to climb beneath a bridge?

We were running out of ideas and were about to throw in the towel and go home early. Then, George remembered Kyrie Eleison (A1).

Above the Manifold Valley sits Thor's Cave. Within its caverns weaves a line of bolts stretching sixty metres from its furthest recess to the lip. This is Kyrie Eleison.

It translates to 'Lord, have mercy', which could have been a warning, had either of us spoken Ancient Greek. It's a fitting name, since the route also hails from antiquity. Gone are the days of UK aid climbing on wet weather days. The Overhangs at Kilnsey and Malham have now been freed. The routes at Parliament House Cave lie beneath the waves of North Stack Wall.

We did it on a whim because everything else was wet. It was aid climbing, how hard could it be?

A long drive east to a sodden car park dampened expectations, but we had nothing to lose. We realised a belay seat would be useful for the fully hanging stances, so fashioned one out of an old rope bag.

The car park would be locked at 8pm. Plenty of time, we told ourselves, as we ate a late lunch. We racked up and were reminded that we had no idea what we were doing. Armed with an array of slings, draws, and some superfluous hooks we'd nabbed from the university stores, we made for the cave. A short, steep sport route was the introduction to the long, undulating roof. This was our mission.

It was hard enough getting up the polished slab to the base of the route in trainers. As I padded to its top, I feared slipping and sliding down it, knocking over the walkers in the cave below like bowling pins. I clipped the first bolt and set off up the steppening wall, feeling adventurous and bold dogging a F7b+ sport route. 

We quickly realised we didn't have the right gear, or any idea how to aid climb. I'd place the next quickdraw whilst hanging on the rope, then lock off on it with one arm in order to clip the rope. This worked for the first section when I could stand on the bolts, but as the roof bent back I had to change my approach.

I worked out that I could clip a sling into the bolts in the roof and stand in it, which allowed me to somewhat avoid the strenuous lock offs. A little further, I tied a knot in the sling to add a higher step to my makeshift ladder. 

After thirty feet I was absolutely knackered, so belayed at the sport route's chains. I hung there like a marionette, arms recovering as my hips and legs began to complain, trapped in the skinny sport harness.

George also worked out how to aid as he reclimbed the pitch and I belayed. When he joined me at the belay, my legs were going numb, so I was keen to deploy our secret weapon. I struggled into the rope bag, and tried to convince myself it made a difference, when in reality I just looked silly. 

George needed a rest, and I needed to get out of my harness, so I gave him the belay seat and started the next pitch. It involved a section in the undulating roof that required down climbing. This was easy for me as I just had George lower me. I kicked out from the wall as he did to swing back in and clip the bolts. The change in angle as the roof returned to horizontal created a fair bit of rope drag, so I made another belay soon after.

Having lent George my Grigri for belaying the previous pitch, I now wanted it back to belay him, realising that using an ATC would be a pain. Luckily, several walkers were passing through the cave at the time, and one was more than willing to unclip the Grigri from a line lowered by George and clip it to my own spare rope to pull up.

The walkers were, in general, unable to differentiate between aid and free climbing. Thus, many thought of us as some of the best climbers in the world to be climbing such a steep, blank roof. The truth couldn't be further away.

George was pleased to get out of the ineffectual belay seat, but less pleased to now have to work out how to down-aid. He tried several different techniques, and slowly figured out an efficient method by the time he was at the belay. One more pitch now remained, and our legs longed for solid ground. 

I set off again, now with a sub-optimal but well-versed system that got me past the bolts to the belay fairly quickly. I was pleased to be able to just clip this and be lowered to the ground, from where I could belay and my legs could come back to life. 

Whilst belaying, I realised the swing potential from the rope going to the lip of the cave. I waddled back into the cave up the slabby side before taking tight on George and leaping forwards. Rock rushed close beneath me, then suddenly I was suspended high above the forest below. I stopped at the peak of the swing, now out of the claustrophobic cave with the outside world around. I had to turn and pick my legs up to stop them slamming back into the slab on the way back. 

I thought we were home and dry, but whilst cleaning George was stopped by some spaced bolts. He'd managed to get to the second one, but was struggling to clean the quickdraw off the first. Dynamic swings, sleight of hand, and not-so-subtle swearing did nothing to retrieve the gear. Eventually he worked out that he could thread the hanger with a sling, hold that to get the draw off, then easily pull the sling off after.

The next bolts were even further apart. 

Fearful of getting locked in the carpark or doing permanent circulatory damage to his lower half, George asked to be lowered off. I jugged back up and used my extra reach to finish cleaning.

We quickly packed up and rushed back to the van, making it out of the car park just in time. Checking my phone now that we had service above ground, I saw that the forecast was good for the next few days. Proper climbing could resume. Though something stuck with me from my experience dangling from those bolts. I wanted more of that feeling - being in some outrageous terrain that only some god could free climb. It was at that point that I decided to go to Yosemite.

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Peak Limestone

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