UKC

Grit Blocs - A Rummage Through The Offcuts Bin

© Dave Parry

Dave Parry writes about how he selected the boulders for his recent book, Grit Blocs, and shares some of the problems that didn't quite make the cut. 


Whilst sat in stationary traffic at the end of a long day in Yorkshire, lower back seizing up, mentally juggling various possibilities into the remaining gaps on my Grit Blocs problem list, I did wish I'd taken the easier option. Instead of spending four months obsessively checking the weather forecast, maps, guidebooks, spreadsheets, WhatsApp, and wondering who was picking my youngest up from school today because I was sat twiddling my thumbs on the M1 southbound, I could have simply swept my hard drive for a hundred decent photos. Forty problems at Stanage, thirty at Burbage, and the rest from wherever the photos fell. Then quickly thrown a bit of text together. Got the thesaurus out and found a hundred ways of saying 'this is a good problem'. Boom, job done.

Rocketman Rob Smith on Total Redemption  © Dave Parry
Rocketman Rob Smith on Total Redemption
© Dave Parry

Instead, I had insisted on trying to paint a vaguely authentic and authoritative picture of the full length and breadth of Pennine gritstone bouldering across all grades and styles. The frame that this picture hangs in, the conceit of the book premise, is the list of problems selected for inclusion. What seems like a straightforward task on paper then metastasised into a huge interconnected net of issues to navigate, to resolve a spiralling range of competing demands and factors. And gritstone has something of an embarrassment of riches when it comes to great problems, which to be honest doesn't make the task any easier. I could write half a dozen of these books with mutually exclusive problem lists and each book could make an equally sound claim to portraying the true likeness of gritstone.

Having juggled grades, style of problem, location, the new and the old, the classic and the obscure, and all the photo logistics, I've made peace with the fact that I can't please everyone. Lower grade climbers may feel it's too elitist, and the elite will think it's all too easy. Newcomers will have no idea where half the stuff is, and the knowledgeable local enthusiast will feel short changed than their favourite is missed out. So when Rob Greenwood said in his (excellent) review that he thought one of the problems was 'crap', I actually took that as a win. Only one! You can tell Rob's a man of impeccable taste.

So anyway, as part of the brutal selection process various problems missed the cut. Some on merit, some I ran out of time and good weather to visit, and some lost out on little more than the toss of the proverbial coin. I thought I would share the thought processes and background on a handful of the 'also-rans' here. These are not necessarily 'the best of the rest', simply the first few which came to mind when I sat down to write the article you are currently reading, thus explaining their presence in the following paragraphs.


I'll Bet She Does / And She Was

The Barden Fell crags have a special place in the heart of anyone who's experienced a cold crisp winter's day climbing up there. The effort of walking in is more than rewarded by the quality of the climbing and diversity of rock on offer. For most people it will be Simon's Seat that they arrive at first, and the tall wall of I'll Bet She Does (E3 6a) occupies a commanding position overlooking the southern approach.

In considering something like I'll Bet She Does for inclusion in Grit Blocs, this author was forced to confront the age old gritstone conundrum - where does bouldering end and soloing begin? It's pretty clear that many factors have to be weighed up. How hard are the moves high up, how secure is the climbing, how clean is the rock, how tired is the climber likely to feel, how committing it is, what's the landing like, how reasonable an undertaking is it at the given grade, and so on.

But sometimes just basic gut feeling gets the casting vote and it was with a heavy heart that the line was drawn on the wrong side for this problem to be included, and/or its marginally less intimidating neighbour And She Was (E3 6a). They both really are on achingly lovely rock, like climbing up the front of a huge headstone cut from the surface of the moon; fine grained, silvery-grey and heavily featured. Both lines are memorable and remarkable, but pads or no pads they are probably really more for the climber who can occupy the soloing mindset and just not fall off after about mid height. But if I could turn up here one day and find an eight-foot deep snowdrift at the base, well, now we're talking.


Digitation

Its would be easy to sit here in my Peak/Yorkshire-centric armchair and take the piss out of the Lancashire quarries for being litter-strewn graffiti-filled dumps having never actually been to any of them. In fact I have done precisely that, many many times. Then one day I found myself writing a book about grit bouldering and hence my excuses for avoiding them suddenly seemed paper thin.

Matt Thompson on Digitation  © Dave Parry
Matt Thompson on Digitation
© Dave Parry

To be fair, I love intensively developed locals' crags, I've got a lot of time for that sort of scene. I have a soft spot for venues where climbers and other users have repurposed the remnants of heavy industry, softened by the passage of time, to end up with much loved venues. I'm down with that, I'm down with that juxtaposition of industrial heritage and recreation. So with that in mind, there's actually a lot of like about the Lancs quarries scene.

Shooting in Progress  © Dave Parry
Shooting in Progress
© Dave Parry

And it has to be said, Brownstones is genuinely a nice spot. There are far worse places to spend a sunny evening honing the fingers, and the shattered quarried sweep of the main slab is an elegant piece of rock architecture by any measure. Straight up the blankest part of the steep slab, eschewing any temptation to veer left or right, ushered upwards by the presence of judiciously chipped holds, is Digitation (f5+). A classic high test of fingers and head, it demands confidence and clean footwork. Pre-dating bouldering mats, a slip at the crux would have made for a very heavy landing back in the day, and it still feels airy above a couple of pads today.

It's no pushover and as the standout problem at Brownstones it's one that's likely to remain a memorable experience for most prospective suitors. However, it IS almost entirely chipped. Climbing's relationship with manufactured holds is perhaps a bit more complex than we like to admit; see 'creative cleaning' on new routes for example, or the number of manufactured holds on much-treasured old classics at Bas Cuvier. But still in the UK the style of blatant hold creation we see on Digitation is justifiably consigned to history. Is it then right or wrong to celebrate climbs bearing the mistakes of the past like this, or do we punish them with exclusion? Ancient carved drainage runnels on, say, Velvet Silence (E6 6c) or Tierdrop (f7A+) I was prepared to overlook, but I felt the complete reliance on chips, created specifically for climbing, ruled Digitation it out of the book. Which was a shame, as to be honest I enjoyed it. Bureaucracy eh?

Matt Thompson on Digitation  © Dave Parry
Matt Thompson on Digitation
© Dave Parry


Renaissance

It wasn't until the mid-2000s that the oft-overlooked crag of Baslow Edge started to be reappraised and came of age in bouldering terms. It's remarkable then that it has at least two really strong claims to top-drawer low/mid grade problems; A Beagle Too Far (f6B) and Renaissance (HVS 5b). The former features in Grit Blocs, but the latter was relegated to an honourable mention in the text and a small photo, despite it's undoubted quality and elegance.

Tom Crane on Renaissance  © Dave Parry
Tom Crane on Renaissance
© Dave Parry

This was a tough call, as both are more than good enough to go in the book. It serves to illustrate another of the issues I wrestled with when writing the book; that of clustering problems of a similar grade. In achieving a broad spread on both the difficulty and the geographic axes, I could really only justify one problem at Baslow. In all honestly I personally probably prefer Renaissance, it's just that the gravity of the mighty Eagle Stone is hard to resist.

The author on Renaissance  © Dave Parry
The author on Renaissance
© Dave Parry


Olicana Arête

I will confess to not really being a fan of Ikley, prior to revisiting the place for the book. Early visits back in my formative years were characterised by struggling on polished trad routes whilst dodging stones lobbed into the quarry by passing local ne'er-do-wells, or warm bouldering sessions on that classic black Calf rock which manages to be simultaneously both slick AND skin shredding. And since then on not one single occasion did anyone of my Sheffield circle of climbing mates ever say 'do you fancy doing to Ilkley tomorrow?' So I didn't go.

Olicana  © Dave Parry
Olicana
© Dave Parry

But one day last November I was heading back from researching crags and problems further north, and being desperate to snatch the last hour of climbing from the clutches of dusk I nipped in to an unpromisingly damp looking Ilkley. If I didn't find dry rock then at least I could nip in Booths to pick up some discounted foodstuffs from the clearance shelf to ease the drive home.

It was whilst enjoying a disappointing coffee in the shadows of the Cow and Calf that I remembered a tip-off from a local contact, and quested off to find this 7a called Olicana Arête (f7A). Five minutes trudge later and there it was - a dry problem! No chips! No graffiti! No sharp holds! No death highball finish! Not much litter!

Olicana  © Dave Parry
Olicana
© Dave Parry

It just felt great, and having had my expectations confounded I stood there atop the problem, looking out across Ilkley town, dusk encroaching, with the street lights beginning to turn on, feeling conflicted. I had basically written off Ilkley as being crap years ago. It was off my radar, may as well have not existed. Well, I was wrong. I did the problem twice more to be sure it really wasn't crap before heading home.

Olicana Arête hence kinda functioned as a gateway drug towards reappraising Ilkley for book prospects. Eventually this led, through no fault of it's own, to it being bumped off the list by the modern classic 8a-ish problem Frank (f8A), over in Rocky Valley. Elitism perhaps, but it seemed that what Olicana offered, Frank also did, only more so. Tough luck but them's the breaks kiddo. I will always have a soft spot for this little unassuming hanging arête though.

Rainbow at Ilkley  © Dave Parry
Rainbow at Ilkley
© Dave Parry


Blackstone Edge

Upon parking up for Blackstone, and stepping out into the carpark paved with flattened bags of dog muck and discarded N₂O chargers, prospects admittedly do not look good. But a half-hour walk largely protects the crag from such hazards - although not from carved initials - and once you're on your way such unpleasantness is largely forgotten.

Blackstone Edge  © Dave Parry
Blackstone Edge
© Dave Parry

Very much in the finest tradition of rough black Pennine grit on the edge of moorland, with expansive views and a remote feel, Blackstone Edge perhaps suffers unfairly at the hands of the Grit Blocs format. It's difficult to pin down an individual line, non-eliminate, non-chipped, to single out as the destination problem. But really, it's not the sort of place that's about standout lines. It's more about exploring, revelling in the views, having a good laugh with your friends and just savouring the sheer joy of moving on rock.

View from Blackstone  © Dave Parry
View from Blackstone
© Dave Parry

Also it lacks much at the headline-grabbing higher grades so the crag has something of a reputation as a minor locals-only venue. As such it's easily overlooked. Which is exactly the sort of venue I would have liked to signpost in Grit Blocs, so I feel bad for Blackstone as I've probably done it a disservice by omission from the book. However I'm hoping to redress the balance a bit by bigging it up a bit in this article. So to all Rochdale climbers I say; don't hate me!


Total Redemption

Honestly I did not see this one coming, but I really should have. New problem alchemist extraordinare Jon Fullwood, a man with a quite ridiculously fruitful track record for unearthing quality new problems (sometimes quite literally) had mentioned he had a 'really good' project on the go hidden in some woods near Wharncliffe Crags long before I finished the book. Something about an old Sam Cattell problem he'd rediscovered and extended, or done a different finish on, something like that. A solid block perched on a tottering hillside of choss. Didn't sound that promising, but not one to write off either. I duly noted it, buried the information somewhere in my head, and thought nothing more of it until Jon did the deed on his project in the spring of this year.

Jon Fullwood on Total Redemption  © Dave Parry
Jon Fullwood on Total Redemption
© Dave Parry

By the point I went to check it out in person the book manuscript had been handed in over three months prior, so I was kicking myself when I realised what a gem Jon's problem One Redeeming Feature (f7C+) is. Talk of a tottering hillside of choss was no exaggeration, but this hanging prow of lovely fine grained rock was quite a find. A real diamond in the rough.

Jon had built Sam's landing out to complete a sort of flat balcony, just about big enough to try the problem in relative comfort, although not completely free of hazards; suitors attempting it without a spotter have been known to tie in to a slack ab rope. Despite being named One Redeeming Feature the nature of the various plinth blocks meant there are actually two or three stand-up versions which could make a claim to be an obvious start position. It really turned into the Spanish Inquisition of redeeming features when Ned Feehally added a low start to give the logical lowest most complete version of the problem using no foot blocks (hence Total Redemption (f8A)). For a grit problem this is long, sustained, powerful, physical, unusually steep for gritstone, and droppable right to the very top. It ticks all the right boxes and it's truly a shame it came to fruition after the book deadline, because honestly I would have made room for it, even it meant handing in a manuscript containing one too many problems and hoping the editor didn't notice. Who's really counting anyway?


Renaissance  © Dave Parry
Renaissance
© Dave Parry




17 Nov, 2022

Boo hiss!, Digitation should have made it anyway! 😂😂

17 Nov, 2022

I'm happy you left Blackstone Edge out. Keeps it unchalked, untrashed and best of all.. quiet. It's a crap crag and not worth bothering with.. ahem :)

17 Nov, 2022

Agreed. A rite of passage for many a Lancashire lad and lass.

18 Nov, 2022

Digitation is great. And certainly doesn't need pads.

18 Nov, 2022

Also agreed.

Si.

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