UKC

No, I don't mean the route with the hardest grade.  It's likely that you were on top form/ in the zone or even well practised for that one.  I'm more interested in the climb that brought you closest to or beyond your physical, mental and emotional limit, i.e. the climb that YOU found hardest.

For me it was Spacewalk on Lundy, I think it's fallen down now .  Climbing the last 5b pitch from a belay that would not hold a fall (or abseil) Gently over hanging and every single hold didn't look or feel like it would take my weight, nobody around to shout for a rope.  It is the only route I've cried on when somehow I made it to the top , rather than both of our broken smashed bodies being washed off the boulders below by the incoming tide.

If by "climbed" you mean "got to the top of" then it's Medusa (E1 5b) which took me a few goes and pulling on a few bits of gear.

If you mean climbed clean by the skin of my teeth I'll have a think and get back to you!

Surgeon's Saunter (HVS 5b) without question

Lucky Strike in Pembroke, I wound up so pumped that I had put my wrists around some of the holds to pull on them at the top as my fingers were just uncurling from everything by that point...

Mike's Mistake (E2 5b)

It was E1 when I did it and I jibbered up it. Don't think I led anything else that day.

The most pumped I've ever been, probably Obscenity (VS 4c). All perfectly safe but I wasted so much energy in the offwidth, I was climbing the last couple of moves with my thumbs because my fingers weren't working.

The most worried I've been, maybe on Mouthpiece (E1 5c), having enjoyed the physical crux, getting not quite enough rest on the resting block and standing up on the upper wall to realise the 2nd half is all 5a with no more gear.

Mentally- probably Sidewinder Left Hand at Newtonhill. First half was fine but the top was friable iffy rock followed by a vertical grass top out and clumps of grass belay. Nothing would have held. Basically soloing with a rope and rack followed by a psychological belay, all above an unfriendly looking North Sea. 

Physically - it was something on Lochnagar. I think was meant to be shadow something but only found afterwards it had fallen off. I was meant to be grade III and the route description bore no resemblance to what I was being told. 50/60 ft of torquing and hooking up a thin crack with zero chance of gear felt a bit go-ey. I was close to puking from the effort when I topped out/found somewhere I could belay. I lay in the snow for a good 10-15 minutes afterwards. My mate proceeded to announce it was the hardest thing he'd ever done, no chance he'd ever had lead it and nothing like the route he'd done before. Great....

One of the first routes I did at Avon when I moved to England from Scotland…., scared me and became a byword with my pal for a scarey runout!

An odd contender for me is Straight Ahead, Diff, Stanage, onsight solo. I was onsighting quite a few E1s at the time, warmed up and climbing well.

I manteled the chockstone in the cleft, expecting holds above (given the grade) but only had the sides of the cleft and they were not great. I was off-balance, so using either side of the cleft seemed very committing. I explored using different parts of both sides and some other possibilities,  like knee bars, but was getting tired and my anxiety was rising, so I focused hard on options. Reversing the mantel seemed risky and potentially out of control. The key need was a rest. I thought to myself 'use your head', 'use your head' and I did.... and the half-rest was in place with my first emergency head jam. I shook out, recovered a bit, tried the most likely of the choices for going up, succeeded and topped out. 

An early contender was the The Slabs Route 2 (S 4a) at white ghyll. I was soloing a fair bit in the lakes as a teenager and spent a long time stuck on a ledge about 25m up, waiting for someone to turn up so I could beg for a rescue rope. Eventually I climbed through the tricky part but I think that was the beginning of the end of my soloing. Luckily, like all teenagers I was invulnerable to any consequences of my actions so was never in any danger.

More recently I think I tried so hard on Delayed Attack (E3 6a) at shuas that I can trace the onset of two years of elbow tendinitis to that effort.

I think a good follow up question is which grade is the most fun to have as your limit. Having failed to climb routes from S up to E6 at different times I would say E2 was possibly the most fun to have as my max.

Pencoed Pillar (HVD)

I've got a vivid memory of taking a deep breath and then dynoing to the grass patch at the top of the sopping wet crack pitch. Sam says I screamed as I clawed my way up up but I don't remember that.

A route called The Klepht on Arran back in the 70's before cams.  A technical 5c first pitch with the crux being right next to a peg followed by an off width corner crack for 80ft or so with not a single runner.  I saw a small niche 3/4 of the way up.  This spurred me onward in the mistaken belief it would offer some respite and some protection (it did neither) as I was too committed to down climb and it would have been too hard.  I don't think I could adequately grade that second pitch.

John did you climb it free? I cant imagine its had many repeats.

Likewise. And I was seconding.

Depends how defined, there's more than a few Scottish winter days where I've felt I couldn't do much more & was very thankful to get back to the roadside or bothy, usually due to the conditions rather than the technical difficulty.

But the most physically wreaked my muscles (weak at the best of times) was after being persuaded to second Ian Duckworth on the Rasp at Higgar Tor. I suspect my leading grade at the time was HVS/E1 although I had seconded the occassional E2 & 3. I just about got up the climb but I'm not sure how, not helped by probably still  being in winter climbing mode (this was  an early spring trip southwards for us from Stirling).

Yes. Didn't have much choice with the second pitch.  The first was no problem because the peg was right by you for the hard move.

That sounds familiar! Just when your getting tired, the jugs give out and the exit holds are useless. I quivered back down to a semi rest then only just made it second try.

Can't believe it got downgraded!

I'm tempted to say Lucky Strike too. I placed every bit of the very large rack I took up it. My last placement was the tape on a cam placed optimistically over the top of a tiny spike.

Thief of Baghdad, Gull rock, just after the (unknown to me) rock fall. Instead of the reasonably steady HVS my mate had climbed 2 weeks before, was a snappy, thin unprotected slab above a cave with large boulders to land on. After reaching an overlap and stuffing 2 friends in I stepped up, removing another sizeable chunk of rock before gibbering to the top (rockfall gives it E45c which is probably a bit much) 

My biggest effort is definatly Lorraine at Bowden Doors.

I got to the end of the traverse, got a runner in but didn't have the energy to clip it, so frantically reversed until I finally fell off going back down the layback flake.

Had a rest for an hour before completing it. Lot of effort into seiging a 20 foot route.  Canada Crack.is even worse; I've never gotten past the crux...

The most emotionally challenging wasn't a route at all but a sun drenched steepening gully filled with humid montbretia, brambles and midge barely consolidating the mine-spoil beneath. A moment of short-cut seeking weakness that lead to a half-hour of total isolation and terror.

My few forays into winter-climbing have evoked similar feelings of isolation, insecurity and fear but none quite so traumatic as the gully.

Mostly aiding, part freeing the final offwidth pitch on the Lost Arrow Spire has always stuck with me for the emotional toll it took, the exposure, the wet-behind-the ears over ambition meeting reality, the exhaustion and ruined hands, the rope drag, the not quite right gear crunching, slipping and spitting crystals at me as I shuffled it ahead of me leaving little behind. The jutting ledge far below and the wind-filled void beyond.

There were too many rock routes very barely finished, muscles, rack and nerve totally spent to recall one above the others so many years on. For the most part that's because I never liked unsafe climbing so they were always eventually filed mentally under fun rather than frightening.

jk

Sounds like you did the first free ascent!

Given the grittiness nature of the route and your account sounds flamin harrowing. 

Definitely not ever going to be on my wish list.

Impressive stuff! 

That's easy. The Bat, 1969/70/71ish. After a winter training in Glasgow on beer and jam & bread & soup from the refectory, and a session or 2 on the embankment walls, I found myself up the Ben getting the lead for a pretty wet Corner pitch (I think it always is?), it'd rained the day before IIRC. Armed with emergency pegs, a Moac and slings I got up to the roof and over it easily enough, it was very Crag-Loughy, my home turf, with the Moac, perfectly placed under the roof. The rest of the corner was a total 'mare. Wet, shitty hard rubber boots and not a chance of more gear I scrabbled up the corner to the last moves into the niche at the top and couldn't make the last pull on a wet fingertip hold. I did pullups on it for a while until blind terror got me into the niche. I thought I'd been on the thing for half an hour, apparently I shot up it - must have been that thing where the adrenaline puts you into a time warp. A very stupid episode and a very lucky outcome if you ask me.

I've had the 'hands opening themselves up' thing before on https://www.ukclimbing.com/logbook/crags/excalibur_buttress-11718/ashes_to_... . Got to a good hold at the crux and couldn't work out how to proceed. Couldn't reverse what I'd done. Couldn't lob off due to suspect gear/rock. Realised I was getting tired......climb or die situation....went for it and made it. Felt my hands opening up on the rounded holds on the top-out, had to lie down for ten minutes before building a belay as my fingers couldn't tie or untie knots.

Hee-Haw (VS 5a) , the hardest VS in the world and not a good choice for me as a new budding VS leader!

Probably the 2nd pitch of Vember, 1974. Ron James implied that it was a path after the crux at 30 feet up. It isn't.

 I'd no sooner shouted to my 2nd 'Cracked it, Dave!' than the realisation dawned that I had another 60 feet of hard climbing to go.

Dave Pearce (of DOWH fame, and much else) had warned me that he found it 'surprisingly technical.' I should have listened.

That was my first ever E1 lead. 

Cordelia (HVS 5a) I may have mentioned this before..........

Heart of the Sun (E3 5c) at Baggy Point in 2016. It was given E2 at the time. I had climbed a few E1s and thought I was ready for my first E2. It basically became a fight for survival. I was struggling to find good gear, the runouts were huge, the difficulty was right at my limit, and the rock became increasing chossy as I got higher. Topping out on the grass felt like being reborn, like being given a second chance. My logbook entry simply reads: "led P2, thought I was going to die". It gets E3 now, and also now has an in-situ rope near the top

Having soloed up to E6, the hardest route I’ve ever got up was Grooved arête on Tryfan. Ignoring the onset of age related problems I set off in the damp wearing approach shoes. The Polished corner was my nemesis and I only got up by laybacking off the left arête of the groove; only just. Sat on the belay ledge for a few minutes composing myself. The rest was fine, but it would have been an ignominious end to a relatively fine climbing career. Moral of the story being at 75 don’t try to do what would have been easy four decades earlier.

Both amongst my very hardest actually 

In winter: Blood, Sweat and Frozen Tears (VIII 8). Only just avoided a horrific whipper that bares no thinking. There was adequate gear to be had but I simply couldn’t stop to place it. I foolishly committed myself and had to go to the next ledge. I have no idea what distance that was but it felt like a mile!

In summer: Voyage of the Beagle (E5 6a). I was in charge of leading the traverse which is by far the easiest of the hard pitches. Almost fluffed it at the run out place but that wasn’t the worst part. Seconding the last and hardest 6a pitch with rucksack for 3 and pissing rain: I actually slipped well above the crux and found myself dangling within reach of the lip on the big roof of ascent of man, cannibal… having my one single rope rip a full 5m along that sharp edge!!!! Primal scream came out for sure. Luckily no crystals were encountered and the only true hold I could spy there was just at head height. I could establish myself on the head wall without having to prussik up.

It is a wonder I still love the activity really.

Thin Red Line at Heppy.

I'd been slowly working my way up to E1 (TRL was E1 back then) Done a few (easy) E1s in the Lancs quarries, Cameo, Shiver's Arete etc.

Then I found my self at Heppy with most of the Burnley team egging me on. Ok what can possibly go wrong? Talk about skin of my teeth. The most pumped I've ever been and that includes all the routes I've done in the 35 years since then.
I think I wedged my knee in the wide crack high up and stayed there for ages. The top moves were desperate with nowt in the arms.
Did the whole route on 3 nuts because I literally couldn't hang around long enough to put gear in.

Turns out it was my first E2. The Rockfax E1 grade is bollocks.

E

One of my biggest fights but without real danger was on No Place for A Wendy (E3 5c)

I remember the feeling of lying face down in the heather top out panting and having to wait a long time before being able to set up a belay. Early-ish in my trad career too.

Edit: take that back EARLY in my trad career

My hardest lead was the last pitch on Preuss Chimney (V) .  Me and Crusher had set off mid-morning and, after six hours, we reached a big jammed-block belay in the chimney.  Only one pitch from the top and my lead.

For some reason, I didn't follow the chimney (no gear?) and moved right onto a slabby wall instead.  I proceeded upwards, confident at first but gradually slowed down as the rock became more and more shattered.  There was no worthwhile protection and I realised that if I fell, I was facing a 100 footer direct onto the belay.  I gradually became paralysed with fear, spending longer and longer micro-navigating my way up the choss.  After the longest hour of my life, i found one half decent bit of gear and 'belayed'.  Crusher quickly joined me, saw the crappy belay and lead straight on to the abseil ring.  I hope never to climb something so dangerous again - it felt like E2 4c.

By comparison, climbing Chien Lunatique (HVS 5a) last year was concerning but no more than that.  I hadn't realised that the crux holds and gear had gone in a storm, 10 years before.  It was only 20 feet of E2 5a - that last pitch of the Preuss Chimney felt MUCH more scary.

Suicide Wall (HVS 5b)

By the late 90s I was climbing well. Mainly sport and limestone bouldering, I triumphed by finally ticking Powerband at Raven Tor. And then, almost overnight, I stopped climbing. Work, my career and a family all took over. I gained at least 25kg but thanks to regular rowing stayed vaguely fit and very, very strong (in the gym sense).

A decade later I moved back to Derbyshire with climbing firmly on the radar. And what better than to tick some very easy routes at my local crag. Never mind that I’d not really done much on grit, climbed for a decade or gained a bag of cement in weight: I could climb f7c. HVS would be a path. Off I set up the tree planning a single pitch ascent.

First thing I noticed was it was a bit more vertical than I thought. Reaching the slanting jam I was starting to feel a bit heavy, particularly with all the gear faff. Second thing I noticed was jamming was a bit harder than Dawes made it look in Best Forgotten Art. This section took a long, long time so when I reached the break I was properly pumped. More gear faff and a lot of shaking. Still easy to the finish now. 
 

Only I’d slightly forgotten my rope work and below the crack I’d managed not only to cross the ropes but to 360 degree twist them around too. Each half meter of route was followed by one-handed furious tugging at ropes, not just to clip gear but even to move another centimetre. By the time I got to the last break I’d been on the route for 45 minutes, had no feeling in my hands, forearms, calves or toes.

Then the rope jammed. Not even with my 300kg deadlift could I shift them (and levering against a hand jam had cost me a lot of skin. I was properly stuck. There was no coming off as I couldn’t have been lowered. We were alone at the crag and no spare rope for a top rope. So slowly, painfully slowly, I untied the worst rope. Still no give. Despite being convinced my jammed right hand was going to pull out any minute, I untied the second rope and with the mightiest of heaves, flopped off right onto the top of the route.

I only boulder at Cratcliffe now.

Jesus, that's a radical solution! I think I'd have taken my chances on resting on the rope then considering my options. It's not like untying goes away as a possibility but at least you could have rested first, and probably found a way to unjam the ropes somehow. You're wild!

When I did it, Hargreaves Original at Stanage...

Back in the 70's around the time we went climbing from school and I was 14, one bitterly cold day in February, the teacher turned round to me and said 'you've seconded 3 climbs, it's about time you lead something , this slab will do, it's a diff. So off I went with a Whillans harness, a selection of Cogs, one Hex and a Moac Original, Green Flash on my feet. I remember getting a runner in a small crack a few feet up and then nothing to the top and I found the last moves hard and would have died without a doubt if I'd fluffed them. The teacher fell off following me and I had a really hard time with the waist belay. In hindsight I should have dropped him for criminal negligence.

As a young kid, leading Diogenes at Gogarth back in the late ‘60s, with primitive borrowed gear and no experience. Half-way through the 5b mantleshelf into the niche, found the rope to be jammed solid….

Tennis Shoe on Idwal Slabs.

My first ever lead.  Until then, my climbing has pretty much consisted of Scout camps and top roping at a tiny crag called Bishops Cleve near Cheltenham, where I could top rope HVS. I was 17, had just got a driving licence and so a friend and I set off to North Wales.  Between us, we had a set of wires and some hexes.  I didn't own any rock boots and so climbed in my trainers.

We got to the foot of it and my mate announced 'You can go first'.  I got about half way up and had stuffed in some wires along the way.  Literally, I just sort of stuffed them in.  I had no idea of the concept of giving them a tug to seat them properly.

I got to the crux of the pitch and found myself slithering around on the polished, sloping holds.  With all my dithering and shifting about, I dislodged most of the gear, which zipped down the rope.  I couldn't down climb and I was getting tired.  Eventually, the panic subsided and a strange calm took over.  I realised I needed to just do the move.  I might die but things weren't going to change by me staying where I was.  Heart in mouth, I made the move and carried on.

It was 30 odd years ago but I still vividly remember it.

(I do think that the fundamental flaw of climbing and mountaineering literature is if you are sitting there reading the book, you know that the author survived)

In terms of routes I've done clean, but only just....Barbarian at Tremadoc. By the skin of my teeth. Seem to recall leaning against the rock on the belay ledge for about 5 mins, after completing the main pitch, having difficulty speaking. Who was holding my ropes again? . 

Done a fair few routes graded harder, but nothing that I've not fallen off has taken me closer to my limit.

Happy days...

Also at Binnein Shuas, when I did Ardanfreaky my climbing partner said afterwards it was the longest he'd ever seen someone look and sound as though they were going to plummet off without actually doing so. Seconded it a year later and found it just as hard! 

Nuit Blanche, the ice climb in Argentiere comes to mind. I was using quarks (hadn't yet moved on nomics) and my mate Andy was out for a week. I was in very good skiing shape..... but hadn't been doing as much climbing as I would like, I was totally boxed the whole of my pitch, every swing being a desperate wobbly, poorly controller throw for hope. I had to totally run it out as I couldn't hang around to place screws.  

A trip down memory lane scrolling through my logbook, with a few potential notable mentions but I think perhaps I'm going for Piled High and Steep at Skaha. Back in 2009 in my first big trip to Canada we caught some wet weather in Squamish so went inland to Skaha - a great Gniess craggin area with sport and trad, including a route called Piled High and SteeperPHS (Piled High and Steeper) (5.10c) as we had figured out that between us and some other folks we'd met in the Squamish campsite and went to Skaha with, we had a massive rack of huge cams, plenty for the meaty offwidth. The Kiser went first, the semi-local (well, from Washington) and got some way up before foundering. Andy went next, again a valiant effort, pushing the highpoint. I took over, with less weight to carry, and a metric feckload of blood, sweat and lost skin I flumped over the top. A proper team effort, and I was wrecked for days.

In terms of being totally pumped out, both the times I seconded Darius (E3 5c) and the time I seconded Insanity (E2 5c). Could hardly hold on at the end regardless of the fact that they've both got huge jugs at the top.

In terms of "I really shouldn't have done that" soloing the top pitch of Tennis Shoe (HS 4b), so polished and easy to slip off - the other pitches including Tennis Shoe - The Direct Start (E1 5a) (E1 5a my a**e) being ok in comparison. And leading Wall End Slab Direct Finish (E3 5c) with only two bits of relatively rubbish and far away gear as my second ever Extreme lead - scared the willies out of me thinking about it when I seconded it a few years later behind someone who by then had enough variety of cams to get several more bits of gear in.

In terms of sweatiest it has to be King Kong (E1 5b) on a warm summer evening, took some time for the 4' & 8' slings to dry out - eeuw.

I seconded that clean too, sounding like a steam train, having about 5 pieces of gear dangling at the knot and feeling nauseous pulling over the head wall: on that day no wayI would have lead that 

Left Wall (E2 5c)

My first (and only) E2 to date (I don’t get to do much trad)

I’d placed way too much gear low down, so my rack was very depleted by the time i got to the upper reaches. Its also by far the longest single pitch i’ve ever climbed so i was getting pumped all the while. Felt kinda fine while actually climbing but stopping to place gear was getting worse and worse.

Fought and fought and somehow made it, think the adrenaline and sheer bloody mindedness helped me find some strength deep down that i wouldn’t ordinarily be able to access.

was so adrenalised I dropped one of my approach shoes putting them back on and it cartwheeled most of the way down to the road 🤦‍♂️ 

Yes, Barbarian (E1 5b) was one hell of a handful. It was only given HVS in the guidebook I had at the time (1983) yet, as I wrote in my logbook, it 'felt like about the hardest thing I've ever done', and like you I was completely spent by the time I got to the top. But the hardest route I ever led was Vector (E2 5c), completely clean, in the same year. The 5c Ochre Slab crux was right at my limit, yet magic.

Jo on the Boulder Ruckle, Swanage. It was my first climb on the Ruckle and mid week so more deserted than usual. I led the whole climb in torrential rain (with a couple of aid points)! Clawed up the slimey mud at the top! In winter Polyphemus Gully. Dropped all my ice screws at the crux!

You led the whole of Jo in torrential rain?  Go on, there's a good story there.  We want to know...!

Same for me. I was climbing pretty well at the time but when I got to the top my heart felt like it was squeezing out between my ribs. (I think it was graded HVS)

Not a route but the hardest Boulder Problem I have ever climbed was Golden Arete 6B+

I've climbed 5 grades harder than that. But I've never climbed anything that was as hard as Golden Arete lol

Yep.  I came to that conclusion the last time I soloed it.  Never again...

It's a pretty memorable experience, untying from a jammed rope mid-pitch!  I had to do it on the first big exposed pitch on the Cassin on the Badile.  I had another rope of course, only not one that was clipped into any gear.

Possibly both on the Buachaille.

Leading, possibly Grooved Arête which was HS then, probably it’s been upgraded by now. I think I was leading solid VS/HVS and breaking into E1 at the time and was on a good day but I felt incredibly insecure and rattled on it.

Seconding, Le Monde. Despite being on a top rope I was gripped out of my mind at the lack of gear (from distant memory there was one runner in the whole pitch, a slider/roller nut) and from the moment I left the ground I felt like I was going to fall off every move.

The first time I climbed Skiløperen (n6-) in 1998 I got more pumped than I ever remember being before. We had the original Webster guide which IIRC gave the route grades in Norwegian and YDS, neither of which I understood - the plus on 5.9+ perhaps should have warned me. Whatever the grade, it was too hard for me at the time, I was so pumped at the top that I couldn't hang onto any of the "glorious jugs" everyone talks about and instead had to keep hand jamming in the crack because you can't let go of a good jam. I flopped onto the ledge at the top utterly done. I remember shouting down to Heidi to keep belaying because I couldn't lift my arms yet to put the gear in to make a belay. I just lay there in the bilberries, watching the clouds go by, waiting for the pump to subside. 

The other completely pumped out of my mind but just getting away with it by the skin of my teeth moment was ice climbing in Finland - I wrote that story a long time ago here: https://lightfromthenorth.blogspot.com/2009/03/fight-or-flight-ice-climbing... 

I've done Vector 3 times Gordon, with different partners. The first and third times it was hot, and the Ochre slab felt desperate. The 2nd time it was cooler, and felt at least a grade easier. However since I only have short legs, the bridging move towards the end of the 3rd pitch was my personal crux on all 3 occasions! 

Paul

Yes, the top of the third pitch I found nearly as hard. Very problematic, interesting and technical. Like you, I have very short legs and couldn’t bridge across the groove to start with, and had to do tricksy thin moves up the left wall before being able to reach up to a huge undercut for the right hand. After that it was all over - a few easy layback moves. I can still remember it all quite well, even though it was 42 years ago!

The Verger at Blackchurch a tottering pile of choss for the first two pitches culminating in the worlds worst belay followed by a scarifying slab where my second climbed it totally different to me as I had thrown a number of holds onto the beach. Placed one runner in the top 50m slab pitch and about half a dozen at most in the whole route most of which could barely take their own weight never mind a fall. The final belay was a fence post on rope stretch an experience never to be repeated!

It started raining as i finished leading the first pitch. We had pulled our ropes through so climbing out was the the only option! Leading the top pitch was very unpleasant and slimey  I have since led it dry. Its actually quite good!

I've had a few of those as well. All my E2 onsights (that were E2 at the time) were foolishly bold slabs. I was good at the techniques required, and I started up them and am still here.... so my head game was good. However I knew half way up all all of them that it was a dumb decision, and after a few such ascents I just stopped doing it in the UK. I then had to learn that sandbag 5.9 slab at Joshua Tree could possibly be E4 5c.

Seconding ... it has to be Old Friends.... I rarely messed up seconding on 5c moves apart from sustained crimpy walls. Old Friends seemed a whole level up to me and I lowered off in ignomy, and Sloper (ex of this parish) humiliated me by seconding it in style. In the 'only just finished' seconding area  I had the Insanity experience as well. 

My favourite 'no one got hurt' mess-up was onsighting The File with a belayer who hadn't belayed on two half ropes before (and kept locking me off by mistake). It took me so long to get to the jug at the crack dog-leg that my fingers were so tired my hand peeled straight off the jug.... but I could still jam OK and finally inched my way to the top.

Maybe I'm old fashioned but prefer my hard onsight climbs to be done under control.

I soloed Fat Man's Misery (S 3c) last night in the gloom of dusk, ostensibly after going up there mainly to pick bilberries to show my partner it is worth coming up there to do the same. I had done some easy little solos before getting into the bilberry combing more seriously, but had seen people doing Fat Man's on Monday when I had gone up there to meet the people working on a crack bouldering guide. I suppose doing it on my own proves I wasn't just caving to peer pressure or trying to show off, but it definitely wasn't one of my better ideas! :⁠-⁠)

I see what you did there .... it's a right old wiggle but secure enough.

Similar experience on Savage God, inspired by the cover photo and article in Mountain magazine, I seem to recall, shortly after the first ascent.

In the ´too ignominiously easy to die on’ category, we once went up to Cwm Lloer from Glan Dena after what seemed like a good freeze and just picked what looked like a nice bit of easy ice, probably Broad Gully (I/II). The first pitch was good fun but after that the ice just got thinner and thinner.  I ended up scratching and scraping my way up lightly verglassed slabs with negligible protection for miles on what was supposed to be a bit of jolly winter mountaineering.

I suspect this is the sort of thing that people with all the latest tools actively seek out these days but with old school crampons and trusty Snowdon Mouldings Supercurver and Baltoro hammer it felt like an existential gamble.  Certainly I never got myself in that particular situation again.

Somebody somewhere could tell this story, it's only something I saw but I can't resist it.

One time at Tremadog I got to know this chap who told me he was a VS climber of 20 years standing but his ambition was to lead Vector. It was Pete something. On the day I settled down on the verge across the road to watch. They climbed well and took a belay someway below the Ochre slab. Pete set off up to the slab, climbing in fine style I thought and in no time was a few moves below the cave. The thing was though that his last gear was on the Ochre slab, and then he fell off. He kind of fell, bounced off the slab into space with a horrible squeak and stopped about 10ft off the ground being held in a weird horizontal pose, but he survived, which was a plus. I've no idea if he ever went back but it's one of the worst things I've ever seen.

My experience is, watching someone else in trouble is as bad as being in trouble yourself 

Fessura della Disperazione (P2) (6b) 

Fessura della Disperazione (P3) (6b)

Lived up to it's name, after P1 gave a false sense of security.

Leading, The Fang at Tremadoc, on a day with a strong blustery wind and me definitely out of condition. Balancing on the slab, eyeing the inadequate gear and being wobbled by the breeze really freaked me, but I did get up it in the end. No pump, just frightened.

Seconding, The Sind on yellow wall, Gogarth - it looked desperate and dangerous whilst belaying, and felt worse whilst climbing.

Agree with Mike and Dave about Tennis Shoe, I'm pretty sure I soloed that top pitch in big boots, over 50 years ago, and never went back to Idwal slabs..

Manzoku (E1 5b)

Pumped from 10ft to the top... One of my first E1s back in the mid-80s and I was ramming friends in without looking most of the way up (and probably crying inside). My second (who climbed somewhat harder than me) was aghast at me pushing on despite being way outside my competence. I did something similar on Jolly Roger (E3 6a) a short while later with the same partner - she had a proper go at me that time and I thought it was the end of that particular climbing partnership at the time (it wasn't).

Brazen Buttress (E2 5b) probably a year later...

I got to a semi-rest at half-height without any issues, but then struggled to see the next move. After half an hour, when I'd reached critical pump status, a hold magically appeared (I still don't know why I missed it for so long) which let me carry on, completely battered, to the top. I was too pumped to place anything, other than a very easy Moac, for the rest of the route and had to wait a while to be able to untie at the top. A fall near the top would have been completely disatrous.

I should have backed off on all of these, but got away with it. Nowadays pushing-on would not even be considered in similar circumstances! The stupidity of youth.

I've done harder/scarier routes since then, but in retrospect none have felt as sketchy as these... 

Instant Lemon Direct at Creagh Dubh in one pitch. The first pitch felt pish but the second pitch was, literally, pishing with water and had no gear. Retreating was not an option for me in those days, apparently, so I continued well into ground fall zone to the final moves where I could stuff a Friend 2 blindly into a placement before the final moves.

I remember spending over an hour on Oliver at Stoney. The gear felt a bit shit to fall on and found the move really committing and hard.

It could be the humming in the background  or the magnetic  fields which made me doubt of course.

Some lads arrived, set up a top rope on Helmut if I remember  correctly, they all top roped and left before I had finished  the route.

I climbed my first 7c yesterday. My hardest sport route to date - took 11 sessions - but posting here because it marked something of a comeback from losing the end of my index finger to an infection this time last year…

surgeon thought the whole thing was going to have to come off at one point, so to have climbing something way harder than before (in my mid-forties) is such a blessing!

Good post, what’s the saying? “It doesn’t have to be hard to be hard..”

Seeing Best Forgotten Art mentioned up there triggered a memory.

I was lucky enough to get an invite to the premier of this film, in Sheffield, back in the day.  It inspired me to try something outside of my skill set at the time and have a pop at leading Wednesday Climb, Burbage.

It's basically a one move wonder with a jam through an overhang to start. I placed a cam in the roof, committed to the jam (sans tape or crack gloves) and pulled, only for my feet to cut loose as I reached up with the other hand. I vividly remember starting at the cam as I swung out, cranked hard on one arm, slapped over the overhang and got a heel up.  Pretty much walked up the rest before sitting down and having a moment!