In reply to Owen W-G: but I always feel cool striding into the climbers pub nearest the crag at the end of the day, full racked up, guidebook in hand and orderinga lager top.
You are not alone....
Ten minutes later, I entered The Shepherd's Rest pub: Chest puffed out, purple helmet held firmly in my hand, imaginary rope slung over my shoulder, I sense the hush as all the eyes in the Bar look at me in awe. At that moment I become suddenly aware of my responsibility - I was representing the Climbing Brotherhood. The barmaid approaches nervously, leans provocatively and revealingly over the bar, then flutters her eyelashes at me. I request a pint and a packet of peanuts. As she bends over to get my nuts, I hit her with the ace knicker-loosener of all chat-up lines: "You know, I'm a climber. I've got fingers like steel claws…(wolfish smile) …all the better to rip your undies off with". She gives me a knowing wink (must have been directed at me, because the only other guy anywhere near me is this muscly Brad Pitt lookalike nerd with a neckchain). Foaming shandy in hand, I sidle over to the jukebox and put 'Lady in Red' on. Looks like quite a night in store. I'm just glad to be doing my bit of PR for Real Climbers everywhere. Like Ben Moon said, 'The power of climbing there's nothing like it'.
Marc C