Pex Problem of the week # 2

The pathway to eliminate heaven.

Remember you will need to refer to pages 178 and 179 of the new Cheshire and Merseyside Sandstone guide for this adventure into the world of elimination to make sense!

Week 2 - Stretch V4.

I must admit I had not done this problem before starting the filming of this series. I had done all the individual moves in other eliminates, but not strung them together in this choreographed way. This problem is a Farley guidebook special, a shining example of what brilliance and balance can produce! Needless to say this feels hard for its grade and is a definite step up from Silly Boy.

A playground of possibilities?

Three elements will lead an aspiring ascentionist along the pathway to success on this problem:
1. Use the power of the three finger stack. Excluding the start hold, all holds on this problem were made for stacking, this problem embodies all that is good in a world defined by this strange art.
2. Clean the holds. It's amazing what a soft bristled brush can do to the frictional properties of these dish like holds! Removing the layer of chalk and grime that inevitably builds up on them over time can turn a marginal, frictionless mess into a skin rasping lockable hold.
3. Use those feet to gain height; your biceps won't help you here. Pisa wall is all about foot work. Dance your feet along its pockets and ledges and victory will be yours- pull too hard on those dishes and all that will be left on the wall will be your hard earned skin.

The problem starts sitting matched on hold 2. Move your weight to the left and reach up with your left hand to the first three finger stack in hold 11. Kick your right leg through to the left to create a funky flag and reach up over the top with the right to stack number two in hold 20. Now the magic starts; move your bodyweight way over to the left by dancing across the dimples lurking at the bottom of the wall. With your left foot high and right hand securely locked onto hold 20, reach up with the left to hold 27, keep reaching, reach some more and when you think you've extended to your limit reach that little bit extra into the hold. At this point you will wish that you had spent some time cleaning: the dish (27) which forces the third successive stack on this problem is good but feels terrible if overly chalky. Once latched use your feet to gain the necessary height and go for the break like you mean it!

Stretch embodies all of the subtle elements that make Pisa Bouldering such an addictive activity; its balancey, technical, reachy and involves stacks! This is a must do problem for the aspiring Pex hill Warrior!


Stretch V4 from Owen McShane on Vimeo.

Ruthin Reloaded - Pwllglas Project Finally Falls.

Skinny Dogs always look miserable when humans are trying to link problems.



Projecting power endurance lines is always a soul destroying activity: You train, you get strong, you travel to the crag, you warm up, you fail on the crux and realise that you will need to make another twenty hand movements before you have even a chance of a send that day; a few more attempts and you have made a hundred moves and yet come away with nothing.  This has the been the cycle of things for me at Pwllglass for the last year or so, continually trying my object of desire, and always returning home with my tail between my legs.

Angry Jones showing the way on one of the easier problems at Pwllglas.

Today was different, I can't put my finger on what changed: Angry Jones was with me and possibly his unique brand of life coaching had a positive effect, alternatively four days of failure in Font may have forced me to finally get things sorted.  One fact that I am certain of is that the weather did not help. It was baltic, and my fingers burned with the cold as I hit the final jug, but hit the jug I did and thus my pilgrimages of failure to Ruthin can finally stop.

The problem starts sitting on a prominent chalky jug down and left of the big flatty that marks the start of the problem Another Million.  Moves on slots and small holds allow you to trace the lip of the overhang rightwards until you reach a rest on the flatty.  From here long moves on small crimps and a choice of flatties lead to Fritillary Flake and the finish. The back wall is in for feet, obviously the big detached block under the flatty of Another Million is not.   I've called the problem Lead Rain after an autumnal incident at this very same crag which involved some men with guns, a cross wind and some very worried boulderers.  I think its comes in around the 7b mark and is well worth the walk up the hill.  If that description is too vague a video of the first ascent can be seen below.


Lead Rain 7B from Owen McShane on Vimeo.

Pex Hill - problem of the week!

This post will be the first of many written for Merseysiders, and those interested in Pisa Wall eliminates specifically. The purpose of this series is to show how the eliminates on Pisa are climbed, and to help to sustain people's interest in Merseyside Bouldering; the more people get to our venues and make their presence felt the thinner the carpets of glass at the base of the crags will become. The recent publication of the Cheshire and Merseyside Sandstone guide has introduced many to a local resource and has revealed the potential that still remains to others. For me a lot of the quality problems on Merseyside are eliminates, hated by many but cherished by the devotee. These short snippets of prescribed rule-based movement may not stand up to the equivalent problem in Font, but my word they will get you strong, they will make you think, and they'll keep you coming back for more!

To truly understand the information given here you will need the new Cheshire guide; you can purchase it from here:

http://www.thebmc.co.uk/kop-a-load-of-the-new-bmc-cheshire--merseyside-sandstone-guide.

You will need to refer to the Pisa Wall Eliminate Bouldering section written by Ben Farley, page 174 to 179 (more specifically pages 178 and 179) where Ben has produced an excellent photo topo with all the holds on Pisa wall numbered.

The bible of Pisa Wall eliminates.

Week 1 - This week's problem is probably the most popular on the wall and, by my reckoning, soft at the grade; so get on it.

Silly Boy - V4.

Start matched on hold 7, reach up with the right hand to hold 21, move your left foot up to stabilise yourself, bring your left to hold 20, move your feet to bring your body weight over to the right, lock up to the small crimp/pocket with the right hand, get a left foot up and pop to the break with either hand.


Silly Boy V4 from Owen McShane on Vimeo.

Top Tip

Using a three finger stack in the rounded dishes (holds 20 and 21), will make things a lot easier.

Ruthin Escarpment - Pwllglas Bouldering

Butterfly buttress in all of its glory.

My pilgrimages north from Pembrokeshire to Liverpool began at the age of 14.  My sister had, without the guidance of a magician, performed a complex vanishing trick which led to her reappearance on Merseyside.  I would regularly visit her, hitching lifts with family, friends or even strangers, traversing Wales by a myriad of different paths, with all roads leading me to Bala, funnelling me to Ruthin, Mold and the industrial wastes of Ellesmere Port. One of my regular travelling companions loved the chemical complexes of Cheshire with their cancerous chimneys.  As a former urbanite, exiled to a rural existence, he said that the scenes from "Blade runner" that flowed out in front of us polluting eyes, ears, and lungs in equal measure helped to construct his concept of home and sense of belonging.  Suffice to say we don't speak anymore.

It is around this time I became aware of the escarpment of limestone that crowns the valley above Pwllglas.  As a fourteen year old it was simply a curiosity that interested the eye as we meandered past. However as Liverpool drew me in, firstly as a student and then as a climber, this scarp morphed into a place that needed investigation, somewhere where some sport may lie. However as I settled down in the North West my journeys through the Cambrian Mountains, up and down the Welsh backbone, dwindled and the limestone edge up at Pwllglas melted away as my attention was drawn by grit, rhyolite and sandstone.  Over the next fourteen years I would occasionally pass through Pwllglas and rediscover a need to explore its potential only to ignore this impulse again and again.

Linking one of the sit starts into Flatillary flake.

A rumour pulled me back.  Loose words and tall tales got me fired up, potential lines in Clwyd! How could I resist?  I hadn't made the connection between the crag spotted in my youth with these stories of unclimbed lines; whispers wafted like seeds on a breeze, passed imprudently from person to person until they took root in the ever-fertile depths of my psyche. All things being equal I wouldn’t have trudged up that Cambrian brow and laid siege to Pwllglas' potential had it not been for Angry Jones.  Angry is a complex character misjudged by others. He's not actually angry; he just likes to paint his pictures of the world with a mallet rather than a soft delicate brush! His verbal pallet is wide but he likes the brashness of primary colours, short words with harsh syllables and big meanings. You know where you are with Angry, and if you don't he’ll make you aware of where you've ended up with the minimum of fuss. 

We set out for Pwllglas on a wet day with little hope and a scrap of worn paper to guide us. I had the briney goat-punctuated scent of the cave in my nostrils and dreams of projects in Llandudno's upside-down world in my mind's eye. I felt that Clwyd's undulations were no place for a sane climber on a grotty day, Angry had other ideas.  He explained in four letters or less why we should commit to the walk in, and I had nothing to counter his rather eloquent explanation. His motivational speech got us there and for this I am eternally grateful.  As we trudged through the damp undergrowth and walked along the crags the rumours of potential seemed to morph into wet empty promises; but the overwhelming feeling of a walk wasted disappeared when Butterfly Buttress opened up in front of us.

Tuffa pulling on the start tothe best of the linkups

Butterfly Buttress is the reason to visit Pwllglas; it sits high above the valley like a Welsh Woodwell with vistas.  The buttress is made of a compact, steep, sweeping limestone wall with an  undercut base.  Sit down starts and link up lines are the beasts you’ll discover here, lurking amongst Lee Proctors sport routes.  Just like Woodwell roof climbs inhabit the same space as highballs, however the super-hard lines that set Woodwell apart are hard to find here.  What you will find is quality on holds that will keep you coming back for more.

Mark streched out on Andy's start to Flatilary flake

We went back! We went back several times and we took Manchessie Si with us. He’s a man-mountain made of biceps and beta, with the uncanny knack of unlocking the sequences that would eventually coax this crag out of its obscurity. Two lines existed before we got there, Flatillary Flake and the Butterfly Collector- by the time our activities had waned ten new sit-downs and link-ups had appeared. The best of the bunch would be Si's start to the Butterfly Collector, Andy's start to Flatilary Flake, and the not so eliminate Cassius Clay.  All three of these problems weigh in around the 7a or 7a+ mark and are worth the journey up the hill. Details of our exploits can be found here:

http://www.northwalesbouldering.com/newsitem.asp?nsid=550

Topos can be found here:

http://www.northwalesbouldering.com/upload/members/Ruthin%20topo%20V6.jpg  

One word of warning- ignore the grades we gave to these problems, they were ball park figures that, with subsequent ascents proved to be slightly inflated. Others visited Butterfly buttress, left their mark, lifting the crag from its once esoteric status to a venue worth visiting in its own right.  Even the legendary Ben Showtime Farley graced the crag with a visitation, displaying his silky skills and flawless technique on more than one occasion; this fact alone must conclusively confirm Pwllglas to be a limestone crag of some merit.

Alec pulling shapes on the Butterfly collector.

Many things of little significance to most have occurred on that hill on the edge of the Clwyidian range. Angry fell in love, a love that could not transcend the duel barriers of species and gender! Fletcher the Lurcher, all legs and affection, was rescued by Andy and introduced to the outside world on that limestone hill. Manchessie became a hero, rescuing me from certain breaks and embarrassment as I plummeted from the top of the crag whilst topping out on a jug that just wouldn't stay put.  I had enough air time to plan which limb I would sacrifice, I also yelped like a little puppy as the ground approached (why be manly about it?).  I think if you’re going to hospital its best to display your vulnerability before anything major happens, it helps the professionals know what they are dealing with. There is no point being brave, your frailties will only be exposed later on. I escaped unscathed, Manchessie however was bruised, battered, and out of climbing for a week after his instinctive intervention.  The scouse crowd also adopted a new member under the shadow of the Butterfly Collector, however I’m sure Alec would sprint for his VW camper if he knew he was now considered one of us.  Smooth Pete almost lost his thumb when he decided that this extremity would be the most elastic, forgiving thing to land on from height. Manchessie, in the quest for new lines, regularly removed rocks from the buttress like the quarrymen of old looking for building materials and again injuring himself in the process.  It has to be said that days at Pwllglas are never boring. It's worth the effort to walk up to that last gasp of the Cambrian Hills and sample the climbing; believe me it will draw you in.

Hunting Bears in the Forest.



 

Every climbing region has a lynch pin, a pivot around which the local scene flexes, articulates, and creates its identity. These individuals are the social glue that keep us climbing together. They stay in contact with disparate groups, working behind the scenes to keep things evolving, fresh, alive. Often the influence and efforts of such individuals are not noticed, lost in the intensity of movement and depravity of comment that so often marks a day out at the crag. However if Bouldering is a culture, they are its architects, creating and recreating the scene in their regional homes.




Fatneck (left) and Hip Hop Ben - Doing their Two Ronnies  Routine

In Liverpool, or the Scouse scene, we have Fatneck!  Its not that his neck is fat, rather his head is small; its a question of scale apparently. He makes the effort to marshal the ever-growing, morphing threads of social media that weave through modern life. He knows everyone and everyone knows him. He does not involve himself with the tittle tattle of grades and ethics- his energy is channelled elsewhere, into a deeper magic. One flex of his text and an unnatural power is released through the ether, leading to eddies of abbreviated words washing through Liverpool's streets on a Friday night. Often on Saturday mornings Scouse climbers find themselves at the same venue chatting away unaware of why they are there or who is responsible. Fatneck is good, really good but that's because he gained his skills from the master- he learned everything he knows from the Bear.

Sometimes individuals transcend a scene, they break through the barriers that geography and topography present. They unite disparate groups and become a powerful node in a network that can motivate individuals separated by whole countries, even continents. The simple beep of a text from one of these people can conjure a stack of pads and a spotting party under almost any boulder in Europe. The Bear is one of these powerful shamen. He's a shape shifter, inventing and reinventing himself in different locations, increasing his influence and powers wherever he goes.

Traditionally in their natural state Bears are solitary animals shunning the company of others.  Not this one. His phone book has created its own dimensions of space and time - it hums as the near infinite number of contacts it stores threaten to burst free causing havoc in the world. His original stomping ground was the flat wastes of the East.  He lived in a city on the Humber hunting far and wide, particularly on Pennine Grit and the soft sculpted sandstone of Northumberland, searching for his favoured form of sustenance, the sloper.  It was around this time I first met the Bear.  A tall man with big hands and his own mystical reputation introduced us.  I was instantly taken by the Bear's generosity of spirit and enthusiasm for everything bouldering related; his knowledge, advice and experiences are unparallelled, shared freely and in my own case foolishly and regularly ignored.

The Bear migrated from his lair in the East to the rich feeding grounds of the Derbyshire Peak in order to gorge himself on the rich slopers that are found in abundance there.  His new residence more often than not would be The Plantation.  He would be found siting astride an avalanche of pads in the cave under the Grand Hotel waiting for rain, mist and snow to clear so he could have careless attempts on the arete of his desire.  It was around this time I truly recognised the power the Bear possesses; his ability to motivate men from around Europe to join and partake in fearless deeds. I also glimpsed the ritual from which the Bear's power flows- this filled me with awe and dread in equal measure. 

On a lonely hillside in West Yorkshire the Bear was celebrating the day of his birth in a hut owned by a junior paramilitary organisation who swear allegiance to Tigers and Wolves. I presented him with a porcelain smoking baby and a fire breathing nun, gifts that both entertained and horrified those who witnessed them. The Bear initiated his ceremony, drinks flowed and one by one the intoxicated disciples present  began to beat out a raucous rhythm on any item they could find: drums, pots, pans, pipes, even the walls. The rhythm rolled on faster and faster until, fearful for my soul, I took myself outside to my tent and the relative safety of sleep.  In the morning I slowly and tentatively crept back into the hut, apprehensive, terrified of what I might see.  I opened the door to the kitchen and was met by a wall of sound, all signs of human existence had been extinguished from the room save for the Bear stripped to the waist, eyes closed, arms raised, declaring in unison with the Stone Roses that he was 'the resurrection and the light'. The air crackled with energy- the ritual had reached its crescendo and the Bear's powers were renewed for another year.  He looked at me spent and senseless, he slurred some words in my direction and took his leave.  I went to the boulders at Widdop to try to make sense of what I'd witnessed knowing that only a few humans are capable of such feats.  I have seen this ritual performed a few times, particularly by Fatneck as he initiates his annual connection to the ether and thus those around him on the Llyn Peninsula.  However at no time since have I seen anything to equal the Bear.

I have seen less of the Bear in recent years.  As he continued to roam the hills of Derbyshire in search of the aesthetic I was lured to the dark side, blinded by the allure of crimp and pull, chasing numbers that never end.  I have found myself in caves and under overhangs where the darker elements of bouldering live; competitive arenas where debates begin and controversy simmers, ready to boil over into forums and bile.  These areas diminish the Bear's power, the limestone burns his skin and the lack of slopers makes him yearn for open spaces and a soaring line.  My path on the never ending treadmill of training and projects has left me broken; only halfway along the scale, unable to go any further, diminished in some way.  The Bear has experienced change as well; he had taken to the rooves of the nation to earn a crust and so has cast his dwelling in the east adrift on a summer storm. As habitats, seasons and climates change so has his feeding ground.  The Bear has always loved the forests of Northern France, a place where his preferred diet can be easily sustained.  His feeding there has become more permanent of late and he is more likely to be glimpsed wandering in the dappled Gallic light rather than against the steel-grey skys of the moors.

The sloper, the main dietary requirement of the Bear.

My journey along the limestone road has taught me to appreciate the Bears wisdom once again.  I always ignored his advice about aesthetics, and jumping rather than climbing. Now that I'm broken I realise he was right all along.  I now search for a soaring line even if the limestone habit is hard to kick.  I have begun to reconnect, respond to Fatnecks texts, remove myself from weekly cave-bound pilgrimage. I have reconnected to the nodes controlled by the social shamen of the bouldering scene.  The forests of Northern France are now in my sights, sandstone slopers await.  In three weeks time Fatneck will guide me on an adventure through the ether and around the Forest; we will hunt for king lines in the playgrounds of princes.  If I'm really lucky we might hear the beep of a text or glimpse a Bear somewhere in the woods.



 

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

The Seven Foot Dyno Pex Hill

 

Wow it's been a depressing winter so far. No powder blue sky, no friction, and virtually no outdoor action.

The new Cheshire and Merseyside Sandstone guide came out Mid October, creating a maelstrom of phyche in my mind, focusing my efforts on all things local. I have visited all the crags in the guide in the last few weeks, called in on some familiar friends, and sought out crags I have never seen before; all done under a thick blanket of gloom covering every inch of rock with a sheen of moisture frustrating all my efforts to put the guide out of date. Yes believe it or not even a crag like Helsby, climbed on since before the beginning of time, history and memory has bouldering potential as yet unrealised. In fact Cheshire and Merseyside still has unclimbed crags which are very good, however there will be more to come on that subject when the deluge abates and the water table allows us to walk rather than wade to crags.

Climbing has been an indoor activity of late, and training for the greater ranges (Font) has been the order of the day. Whilst working hard at the Climbing Hanger Liverpool on inflaming old injuries and creating new ones to share with family and friends, I struck up a conversation with someone regarding the the Seven Foot Dyno at Pex Hill. This is a problem I put up many moons ago when my tendons were elastic and I climbed like a coiled spring full of snap and potential energy. The Seven Footer did not make the Pex eliminate topo in the new guide, and it seems that there still a little confusion on where this baby goes from, so I though I would clear things up once and for all.

The Seven Foot dyno is essentially a harder version of the break to break dyno or "Red Flash" (an affectionate name given to an old car of mine) as it now known on Pisa Wall at Pex Hill. Red flash is a V5 and is clearly and correctly marked on the eliminate topo in the new guide, it goes from holds 6 and 7 to the break. The Seven Foot Dyno is a V8 (font 7B), and it goes from two side pull holds around seven or eight inches below the break where Red Flash starts, on the eliminate topo this would be holds 4 and 5.  Obviously this means you need to buy the guide to get your definitive description, however that's a good as the guide is a thing of beauty.

If you don't want to buy the guide here is the now infamous video of the Seven Foot Dyno created by the legendary Oz Fry the man who put the bag into baggy! Enjoy