In reply to nz Cragrat: Climbing in the rain stuss
Ok, it was pissing it down and we (Dave Parker and myself) had gone to Castle Rock because we (quite rightly) had decided we could probably get up Overhanging Bastion. We did but then we got down and saw this very young lad on The Ghost, I shouted up to him that the flake had been pulled off by Chris(Bonnington) a week or so before.
"It'll be arreet youth"
as he made the moves across the section Bonno had declared "probably impossible now" I then shouted up and warned him that the upper rib was in the rain and would be very hard in the wet, as he strolled up it.
I think Ron was 14 at the time.
The next weekend he came down to Stoney Middleton to climb with me, he was very impressed by Tom Proctors routes at the time and wouldn’t lead, so I lead Boat Pushers Wall and he followed it so easily I knew I had to do something to alert him to his potential.
I took him on to Windy Ledge, I pointed him at Our Father (only done twice at that time, and I had witnessed both ascents) told him it was a steady climb (it was possibly the hardest route in the UK at the time) and he flashed it flawlessly.
I got in touch with Ken Wilson that night and told him I had seen the future of British climbing, Ken said " I've seen em come and I've seen em go Al"
Was once climbing in Wales with Ron Fawcett and it had pissed it down solidly for a week. We decided that the route to go and do was Black Cleft on Cloggy, reasoning that as its always wet anyhow and got its XS grade for that state it would make no difference.
After nearly killing ourselves soloing to the bottom of the thing, Ron set off up the first pitch (after eyeing up a 'new line' on the right wall, now done) and proceeded to gain height as I gradually disappeared under a mass of dislodged grass sods and various other botanical and entomological specimens. Just as I was about to be buried alive in this onslaught of mud and detritus I felt a tug on the rope and realised Ron wanted me to follow the pitch. The water pouring down both from the sky and on the rock cleaned me off a treat and I set off on the pitch which was now a good few feet shorter than when Ron did it, I haven’t got a clue what grade the pitch would be in the dry but it was absolutely desperate. In some cases so much debris had been washed down and lodged back into the crack that I literally had to dig into it to find the nut placements so I could remove them.
When I got to the stance, Ron was pissing himself at the state of me, handed over the remaining rack and said "Off you go then".
Right you bastard I'll see how you like it. Less than 15ft up the crack and Ron was already virtually covered head to foot in the disgusting smelling gunge. I was hanging from a nut trying to dislodge a particularly stubborn grass overhang, and Ron said "what do you reckon we go down?"
" Yeh, I really am having fun but at this rate it'll be dark before we get to the top, there’s nobody else on the crag, we've as good as done it (there was about a 100ft to go at least)".
I lowered off leaving the nut and we abbed down and ran straight into Llyn Arddu with all our clothes on and just washed the mud and slime off it was strangely warm, like monsoon rain, or maybe by now we were delirious.
In the pub that night “Yeh great route, you wanna go and do it, but do it in the rain, it’s graded for being wet anyhow" :-0)
The next 12 days it was perfect weather.