Dolerite Daze.

I have said it before and I will put it out there again; dolerite is my favourite climbing medium - by quite some margin.  The Boss Curiver Bloc hidden in the evergreen expanses which guard Beddgelert, the erratics that dot the majestic Ogwen and Llanberis valleys, the chaotic jumble secretly secreted in Crafnant’s upper reaches and the blue stones that sit proudly on the hilltops of North Pembrokeshire; I just can’t get enough of it.  Deconstructing the dolerite experience gives us some pointers as to what makes it so addictive: dolerite can be rounded like grit, or angular- laser cut almost, like granite; lines always follow strong features, holds can be pinchy, sloping, or even savage and crimpy; however they all have one thing in common – texture.  Dolerite is like shark’s skin, it has possibly the best frictional qualities of anything (rock or otherwise) that I have chosen to slap in my entire life.  On a cold day you almost feel able to pull yourself up holdless dolerite faces through the adhesion created between your skin and this rasping rock alone.  One salient feature elevates the dolerite experience above all others and that is the effect of location; location, location, location.  There’s nothing quite like a boulder with a view, a grassy landing front and back and the potential for further development when the correct resources are available.

My favourite dolerite venue of the moment nestles on the hill in the middle of the sleepy town of Rhiw, far out on the western tip of North Wales. To most this small town would be an inconsequential cluster of whitewashed cottages with a priceless view and an air of the 1930’s. To the rabid boulderer it serves as the gateway to Porth Ysgo with its proud technical lines and miraculous micro-climate. We’ve all driven through Rhiw and looked at the dolerite hog back there on the hill. We’ve all thought, “hmm I wonder if there is any potential there?” and we have all driven on, dazzled by the promise offered by Ysgo’s stellar lines. Recent developments have changed that. A band of super-keen individuals have brought this crag to life, (you can read about it here and here) sending and reporting enough lines to get a Merseyside boulderer to stop and look on the way to Ysgo.

My first visit to Clwt y Fiaren and the Fisherman’s View Boulders was only meant to be a short fact-finding mission, an aperitif to my main course which was to be served at Porth Ysgo.  However I found the experience so absorbing I was still there shedding skin as the sun started to set; I just could not leave.  A second visit was scheduled, but this time in the cool, sunny conditions of a spring Sunday.  This trip confirmed what I had already suspected – this spot ranks amongst the very best bouldering locations in the UK. No really ……it is. 

Yes the site has deficiencies: there’s not a lot there and if you are looking for big numbers you will be disappointed; however the lines that have been developed are strong and proud and there is quite a lot to do around 7a. The element that places this venue in the bouldering premier league is the setting.  You will have to travel a long way to live out your dreams in a better landscape. As you boulder on clean, rough dolerite the sweep of Hell’s Mouth arcs away into the distance towards Abersoch.  Corduroy seas ripple past and break on panoramic shores as seals and dolphins swim lazily by. . . 

Welcome to nature’s smorgasbord - it doesn’t get any better than this.

Bouldering can be more than pulling hard, training, grades and posturing.  Climbing can be something deeper.  Spending a day slapping slopers, bathed in spring sunshine, as the sea shimmers into infinity is as close to perfect as is possible.  The boulders that populate the slopes around Rhiw are good; bouldering in this landscape is great – mind blowingly so!  Go once and you’ll go again, even with Porth Ysgo on the doorstep.  You really won’t be disappointed by this daze of dolerite.

Thanks to Sam once again for the vid and to Hip Hop Ben for the first photo.

The Process

This week have another contribution from a guest writer.  This man needs no real introduction, as he is a legend.  May I introduce to you the words of the one, the only...... Fatneck!

Disclaimer - the following event may or may not have actually occurred as described. I think it did but am not entirely sure.

                                                                     The Forest

I follow Ben through a new (to me) part of the Forest. Tantalising splotches of grey highlighted by the dappled sunlight peep through the foliage on either side of the vague path. A cuckoo cuckoos in the distance and before long we’re beneath one of the splotches and Ben is excited. Due to recent rains and the fact that we are somewhat off the beaten track, the bloc is un-chalked and so begins the process…
 
“Looks piss”
“It’s desperate!”
“Have you tried this?”
“How are you supposed to hold that!?!”
“What about that foothold?”
“Ah…! Maybe I need to…”
 
We spend maybe half an hour trying this, trying that and trying the other. Trying different combinations of holds, body positions and foot placements and piece by piece the dream starts to become reality…
 
I stand back and look at the bloc and it’s changed. In fact, everything has changed…
 
Holds are chalked, highlighted and the sequence seems obvious. Faint hand mark show the progress made, each one slightly higher than the last. Also, our mood has changed: we started off excited, ebullient even; we have experienced exasperation, disappointment, confusion and discouragement; but also hope, wonder, joy and now expectation.
 
We have a sequence and the bloc is on…
 
Ben cleans and squeaks his boots, adjusts the mats, checks his shoes again, chalks hands, moves towards the bloc, stops, chalks again turns slightly and offers a wry smile before…

                                                              Ben looking happy…

Later, as we walk back through the Forest chatting amiably about the problem, discussing why it wouldn’t go and what we’d try next time, it suddenly occurs to me that this whole wondrous experience has unfolded with out me even putting on my shoes! I have enjoyed, participated and revelled in the experience vicariously and am left reeling with the thought of what a simply brilliant thing climbing is.  
 
I think the mystery and solving the problem is all; sending is secondary to me. I think this is why the Lleyn venues like Porth’s Ysgo, Talfarach etc are my favourites. The unstoppable forces of time and tide conspiring to remove all traces of previous bouldering activity leave the visitor with a sense of being ”the first” to experience these problems and situations. I love arriving at a “chalk free” Ysgo but even more than this, I love walking back along the beach at Porth Ysgo at the end of the day and seeing the now-chalked holds. Each chalked mark tells a tale of failure or success, of a struggle or a walk in the park, of fun or of fear. Tangible and enigmatic but at the same time transient and almost futile...

                                                    Fatneck highballin’ on his stag do…

Back to the Forest and I spot an unchalked splotch of grey to our left, am inexplicably drawn towards it and the process begins again. Maybe this time I will even don my shoes…

                                 The unstoppable forces at end of another day at the Ysgo…

Technology, Training, and Porth Ysgo.

Winter Sunshine on the Llyn

We live in a constantly evolving world, where the pace of societal change is dictated by technology's metronome. As this pendulum swings its return time shortens leading to an ever more frenzied rhythm that most look awkward dancing to at best. Some will always get it, look cool and ride the crest of technology's wave whilst the rest of us dad-dance on the fringes of the disco, embarrassed, waiting for an opportunity to sit out.

Social media, communication devices and the amorphous landscapes of the Internet dictate the ebb and flow of change in the present era. I am only to aware of this as I type on my smart phone ready to e-mail to my computer and upload to a blog, a process I obviously struggle with being a dad dance hero who prefers to hover diffidently at the edge of the metaphorical disco. However as I look in to the flashing lights and frenzied movements of the leaders on the dance floor I can't help feel that things are starting to move so fast that no one can keep up. The sources of information about climbing and Bouldering have become so numerous that marshalling all of this news is very much like transporting soup in a colander; most escapes and only the important lumps remain. As an obsessive boulderer it becomes clear that there is too much out there to do and you will never be able to do it all, so it is time to pair things back, take stock and return to the familiar. I can't visit America, South Africa, or Australia in the foreseeable future, but I can go to Font! Now there is a place worth training for in the midst of a typical British winter.

So training is the order of the day, month, or even season. Conscious moments are filled with plywood, plastic, and chalk. The cellar board at the Hanger becomes a second home, a cave of pain whose steep angle shades the eyes from the hyper-reality and luminosity of the indoor experience. Time is marked by reps and sets; minutes are no longer temporal way markers- rather they are disciplined intervals of rest before the next frenzy of activity. Numbers take on a near mystical significance, 1 - 3 - 5, 1 - 4 - 7, 1 - 5 - anything become phrases of communication and aspiration. Things can become very minimal indeed.

There are inherent dangers when indulging the training urge. Flat wooden edges, constant repetition, pre-determined movement and an unhealthy interest in stop watches can have a hypnotic affect. Enthusiasm begins to leech away lost to the ether, the world contracts around you and the whole point of the exercise (to get stronger for a trip or problem) seems to inch further away. Relationships with non climbers become strained, they simply can't comprehend the true meaning of encore and repeater and laugh when they overhear conversations involving woodies. In light of this how can you stay psyched, continue to train and reach the finish line?


One option is to turn to the tidal wave of digital media available, to get your psych on by watching others climb your 'must do' problems. However will this really lead to a resolution of your issues, or is it the path to madness? You Tube and Vimeo hold so many visual Bouldering resources hours of your life can be lost mining these seams; and what lies at the end of them? Nothing substantial, just that same monotony born out of repetition! Click, watch, consume, click, watch, consume; time for another set? The only way out of such a morass is to immerse yourself in a Bouldering experience that can remind you in one hit what its all about. A venue that distills and concentrates everything you want from bouldering- aesthetic lines, lovely holds, breathtaking landscapes and the potential to stretch you to your limits. Bouldering videos can't do these things - Porth Ysgo can.


Ysgo is a strange mistress, moody and unreasonable in the summer, empathetic and forgiving in the winter. My annual yuletide visit was timed to lift me from the deep pit that disciplined training had created. My comrades 'with' arms Hip Hop Ben and Fatneck were optimistic as we tumbled across North Wales in the van, however the journey was anything but dry! We pulled up at the parking and the rain intensified. The walk to the beach left everything drenched besides my undecrackers! It seemed that all was lost; another piss-wet day on a piss-wet weekend punctuating the worst piss-wet year in climbing. My psych was draining, dripping from my coat. We reached the beach and it rained some more. I could almost hear the echoes of "I told you so" resonating from those climbing the steep boards of Merseyside. Then it happened! Ysgo took one look at our plight and she understood. The rain stopped and without the aid of sun or wind, the rock dried!



Dry rock this year has been scarce- almost as hard to find as an honest banker. However if you mix this valuable commodity with the rich, comedic patter which normally emanates from Messrs Hop and Neck then we are beginning to describe a very good day indeed! These comedians deliver their lines like a well practised double act, my own post modern version of the two Ronnies. As they strut along Ysgo's rocky stage I'm reminded of the importance of the social side of climbing for keeping motivation flowing; I don't ever remember a time when a campus rung has made me laugh. We climbed for four hours and the sun even made a cameo appearance in our multi-sensory variety show! Knees bleeding, hands burning, senses sated we headed to Llanberis and Pete's to indulge our need for warm grease and a perfect day was complete.



So now Christmas is over, work has started and the rain continues to fall. I've moved back into my 50 degree hovel at the Climbing Hanger, with its colourful lumpy decor! Life has returned to a routine of crimp pull and rest, minutes pass and a new rep starts. However things are different. Training does not seem pointless, it's worthwhile and focused. Ysgo does that to you. Messing around with mates on the boulder beach, finding dead cows, trying new lines; it helps you focus, it tells you to get stronger so you can get those prized lines done next time. Psych is high and the status of my relationship with the campus board has returned to positive with long term benefits. So let the training continue! In six weeks time I'll be in Font!

Here's a video from our last big trip - don't watch it, go climbing instead!



Font in a NutSack from Owen McShane on Vimeo.

Words and video - Skinny Dog
All Photo's Simon "Fatneck" Huthwaite