Take a look inside the February 2010 issue of Climb Magazine. Great articles on Italian Ice, George Smith's Dinorwig Diaries, Stevie Haston on training, Wonderful Wilton and all the usual great departments and features, illustrated with stunning photography.
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Dinorwig Diaries
Thursday
The endless zig-zag ascent to an indeterminate objective right up on the highest level of Dinorwig quarries seemed to have a sort of symbolism which hadn't quite crystallised in my mind. This was because I was listening to another sob story from The Man Who had Mistaken his Wife for a Belay Device.
Despite an allegedly excellent physical relationship she had simply left him on the sixth day of belaying, as he tried a small sport climb. It seemed she had lacked any appreciation of the importance of 'The Redpoint' (a perfect practised free ascent, after suitable training and visualisation).
Now, he lacked her.
' ...and you've no idea what a handy piece of kit a wife can be...'
This nonsense was interrupted by the sudden appearance of two other climbers (up here this was more peculiar than it might sound). They looked ancient. Eyes scrutinised us from rhino weathered faces. Their kit was equally eroded as though they could have been up in the top of the quarries for years. Perhaps they had been, after taking one or two unexpected turns.
I remember thinking, wow this might be how we end up, unless we fall off something. One possessed a full-length leather coat and white trainers. I think.
'Where have you been?' I heard myself enquire.
'Up there somewhere...' One replied, gesturing with a vague wave behind him. This did not give ever so much away. Neither did their faces; they were still weighing us up.
They described their exploits as having taken place by a broken shed, an old iron ladder and a pile of rubble with some quartz in it. Indeed they could not have been less specific: 'round the next bend and four levels up... or was it five?'
'And...you?' Said the one I now noticed was even possessed of slate-coloured eyes - blimey! I hesitated. (They did not seem to notice this.)
Chiaccio
Piemonte means 'at the feet of the mountains' and while this regione (administrative division) in the NW of Italy, with Turin as its capital, features wide sections of flat lands and gentle rolling hills (famous for their red wines), it's the close presence of a large section of the Alpine chain that gives Piemonte its physical identity.
The French architect Le Corbusier once defined the view from Superga, the great church on the top of the hill dominating Turin, as the 'world's most dramatic panorama'. It's hyperbole, but not entirely untrue - on clear days the entire western Alpine arc is visible in all its glory, from the giant cone of Monviso on the south, to Monte Rosa and the Lepotines Alps beyond, far to the north-east. It's an impressive array of mountains, raising straight from the Pianura Padana, and of deep parallel valleys.
These same valleys (and the nearby presence of Aosta, with its treasure-chest of altitude climbing) make living in Turin a blessing for any mountain lover. The choice of activities is almost disorienting, from climbing (sport and trad) and summer hiking, to ski mountaineering and snow-shoeing in winter. And of course, ice fall climbing.
Wonderful Wilton
I woke to the terrifying sound of crashing debris. There was a pungent smell of cordite and a thick dust in the air hindered my vision. Surely this wasn't an active quarry. How could I have been so foolish? Maybe this was it; my climbing days were about to end in a tragic quarrying accident! I managed to sit upright. My limbs seemed intact. That was a relief as I might still be able to climb. As the dust settled I felt a poke in the ribs and a voice shouted, 'Are you going to sit around all day or get cleaning some lines!' That would teach me to doze off during a BMC clean-up meet.
Wilton has always been that crag people talked about, but seldom visited. Having been a Peak District local for the past ten years I was keen to seek out pastures new. Rumours of a large scale BMC clean-up finally lured me up to Lancashire to sample a bit of the action for myself.
THE HEART OF LANCASHIRE
Situated in the heart of Lancashire. The Wilton quarries don't exactly entice your average climber. It's perhaps not too surprising that they see far less traffic than your typical Peak District crag. This is not all together a bad thing as in our present day it's a real challenge to find any decent climbing that hasn't already been spoilt by the likes of people and polish. Luckily for me on my first visit I had Geoff Hibbert to chaperone me round to the best areas.
Geoff was responsible for many of the first ascents in Wilton and other nearby crags. I tried not to lull myself into a false sense of security as Geoff ran around like a kid in a sweet factory soloing just about anything he could get his hands into! As the day progressed what also became clear was how proud the local Lancastrians were of their climbing history. I listened in awe as locals gleefully recounted tales of climbers such as Hank Pasquill and Paul Pritchard on some of their first ascents in the quarries. One of Geoff's classic near misses was on a route in nearby Egerton, where Basil his dog narrowly avoided being flattened by an exploding rock that he had crow-barred off whilst cleaning a new line.
The route was thus named Bombing Basil. I didn't dare ask how The Traverse of the Beer Drinking Gods got its name.
Gear
Perhaps I should start by explaining a bit about this month's title. You may be one of those people who passionately believe that drastic and urgent action is needed to save the planet, let alone the human race, from extinction. Alternatively, you may be a member of the other group that believes that the whole thing has been dreamed up by a group of sinister people in some secret office somewhere in a country that you do not like as a form of social or political conspiracy. Then again, you might think that it is just a fad that will pass. Which ever approach you take, there is one thing we probably do have in common and that is we all like to save a bit of money or spend well and wisely on the gear that we need for our passion, climbing, and, I suppose if it saves the world a bit in the process, all the better!
It is also true to say that the vast marketing machine that is the outdoor gear industry has, like our supermarkets, our politicians and everybody else jumped onto the Environmental Bandwagon big time. It is (and I'm pleased to have a chance after about 30 years of knowing the word to be able to use it), the zeitgeist of the rich countries of the world.
So, this month is a tour of some of these ideas, the people and the gear and what we can do and what can we expect from all the heat and smoke (filtered and carbon off set I'm sure). It is not intended to be definitive or comprehensive because as sure as heck everyone is trying to show that they are doing something in the recycling /stopping global warming/save the polar bear etc arena.
There are also loads of attempts to assuage people's perceived guilt like, oh go on, buy this... rope, helmet, jacket and we'll plant a tree to make up for it, or buy this whatever as it is entirely recyclable/recycled/made of old bicycles.
Cynical old me would say that if you want to plant a tree, great, go and plant one and actually the best way of recycling is not to waste energy reprocessing materials, but to recycle the ownership and give it to someone else who wants or needs it.
I wouldn't dream of questioning anyone's motives: it may just be that it looks like a bit of PR tokenism, rather than actually being so!
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