Last night didn't turn out quite as well as I had hoped for. I got dumped. These things happen, but at the end of the day, you still get a little depressed about them. So this morning, I got up (after having a nightmare trying to find my bed last night under jackets and climbing related paraphernalia) and found a Black Diamond catalogue that I had ordered a few weeks ago lying next to the front door.

Being on my way to work I brought the catalogue along with me. Then, over my first cup of tea I had a read through.

Black Diamond stuff is always pretty damn cool, and the photos are awesome to browse through if you want to kill some time, but the one thing I love about Black Diamond catalogues, (and I've now got to try and hunt out my one from last year) is the articles.

So I sat there, looking very glum, trying to be nice to the students that wanted help in the office where I work, and reading through these articles. The first started with the comment 'Ice climbing is magic.' I looked through some of the axes, and drooled at the photos, just wishing I were there. Then onto the next article by Eli Helmuth entitled 'Smears of Fear', a piece about ice climbing in the Rocky Mountains. Still a bit depressed I continued to read through the catalogue.

Some crampons, helmets, ropes, lots of shiny pieces of gear, and some more stunning photos. I skipped through the harnesses and gloves, eagerly anticipating the next piece of writing. And then I got to it; called 'The Borders of Revolution' by Pete Athans, this item starts “When anyone asks you why you climb, do you suffer a loss for words?” Now, working in an office at Birmingham University, I often get asked about the reasons for climbing, and as this piece eloquently started, I am often lost for words. Of course, this piece quoted Mallory's famous line “Because it's there” but I think there's more to it than that, and so did Pete Athans.

I thought of hanging from a rope, 30m above the ground, with all my powers of concentration on the task in hand. Or maybe on an ice face, as I hope to be this winter, thinking of the condition of the ice I trust my life with. Or even something so little and for many, insignificant, as a boulder problem, sat at the bottom with some friends trying to figure out whether that's a toe-hook or heel-hook that's needed. For me, climbing is, and has always been, a retreat from my life.

I recently left University after three years in Lancaster, without my degree. I spent too long climbing. It was always that escape, that place to go when you wanted out from life for a few hours. When things seemed like they could get no worse, you could go to the crag, mountain, boulder or even the wall and work on a project, or whatever, and forget about it all. For that brief time, it was somewhere else to be, and something else to concentrate on.

I thought about this, and sat there in quiet contemplation. For the first time that day, I smiled. Suddenly I realised that life's problems aren't always there, that no matter how severe you're trouble, you can escape it, even only for a little while. I realised that this girl had not stopped me from doing what I love, and that next weekend, I'd be out again, and wouldn't have to think about it, as my concentration would be elsewhere.

But what about others? Why do others climb? Surely every climber in the world isn't running from something, and taking a break from the status quo. It made me wonder, what makes them want to climb? Some like the exposure, some like the adrenalin rush that comes with pushing your ability and your safety to the very limit. Certainly, some people just don't know why they do it. But why do you do it?

When you're climbing, you are closer to your partner than to anyone else in the world – they hold your life in their hands! And maybe that's why climbers are such a strange bunch (and we are, admit it). I've been with clubs that have often been accused of being cliquey, and of simply climbing with their friends, and excluding new members. Other clubs tend to try and put new members together, to create bonds between them, so as to maintain the level of companionship in it all. I'm going back up North, to Lancaster and to my friends from Uni in a few weeks, and I know the social aspect of this sport will never die. Without that, I think it wouldn't be worth getting out of bed.

But it all depends how deep into climbing you are. There are other things, other activities where your concentration must be on the task in hand, granted, but coupled with the other highs from climbing, for me, nothing beats it. I'm still feeling a little bad after what's happened. If you want me after work today, I think I'll be in the wall...