We all heard the rumours. Everyone was talking about it. Could it be true... Apparently, a friend of a friend said his friend saw a forecast for a day without rain in North Wales. Even the optimists were dubious, but, sure enough, Saturday was indeed dry. Of course, in the run up to this meteorological anomalie it was particularly hard to decide what to with this window of opportunity. I wanted to do something nails or something exciting and without too much demand for fitness, so the slate seemed ideal. The plan was to get a clean ascent of The Medium (8a) before have a crack at the most stunning line on slate: The Rainbow of Recalcitrance (E6 6b). Duncan was keen for the respective neighbouring lines of Headin' the Shot (E5 6b) and Poetry Pink (E5 6b). Perfect.
We rocked up at Serengeti to the familiar bleak humming from deep within the mountain. Armed with re-soled edges, I had expectations of success so I got straight on with it. A quick toprope to remind myself just how freakin' thin it is and it was time for the lead. It's times like this I'm glad we live in a quantum universe, somehow falling off and moving up at the same time, that was until I tried to observe my position at the final move, and found myself swinging below the first bolt. Many failed attempts later (including two on Headin' the Shot!), I threw in the towel. It just felt too hard, and increasingly painful and unpleasant. Fortunately for me, Duncan is wiser than he is tall, so a little pep talk and a really quick onsight of Headin' the Shot (E5 6b) from him, gave me the inspiration to have one last go.
Rocking over on the big-toe pocket-smear I had managed to divert my attention away from the jaws of defeat just long enough for a sneaky peak at self belief, but, it wasn't good enough and the cloud of doubt shrouded my mindscape once more. I fell off, and although disheartened, I'm keeping my towel.
Like Brian Blessed with a Total Fitness membership, Ben Alsford turned up and led us to; Taken Over by Department C (7a/+). In need of a bit of a pick me up I went for the onsight putting the draws in. The lower wall succumbed to a delicate yet powerful approach, and all was going well until a final impasse by the last bolt. I tried to recover on some undercuts above my head but I was flagging. I became totally unwilling to part with the rock, it would take more than a bit of protein to repair my ego if I fell off this as well. I gritted my teeth and made the final crossover to a huge jug just in time. All is not lost.
Retrospectively, it seems that The Medium (8a) has become largely a mental battle. It feels as though every time I think I might fall off I do. I need to believe I can do it, to do it. It's as if it really is some kind of metamorphic medium.
Monday, me and the savvy seal, Tom Ripley found good weather at Craig y Forwyn. One of my first blogs was about this crag and in particular Great Wall (E4 5c). I remember absolutely loving the crag and this day was just the same. I don't know what it is about the place, it could be the reminiscence of peak limestone trad and the youthful nostalgia it inflicts, the giddyness brought on by knowing your not really supposed to be there, or simply the immaculate, pumpy wall climbing.
I wasn't sure what to do so Tom picked out The Snake (E2 5c, 5c). I wasn't feeling all that fit, or even awake so I had no real expectations, and knew it'd be no formality. The first 10 metres or so were steady away, then I came to a point where I had to swing around an arete onto a layback flake. I arranged a bunch of gear and set off. It felt ok. Brilliant, I thought, E2's feel juggy. A couple of metres up the flake it was time to switch to another flake to the right. I was gently pumping here, I had gear about a body length below my feet and I could see a good incut at the base of the next flake, so I pushed on. "Ah, Fackin'el" the incut was full of mud. I backhanded further up the flake and made a powerful swing across, but I still couldn't stop to place gear, the feet were crap. A fleeting moment of terror came over me and I scampered my feet up high to the muddy incut. I was in a bicep-burning position and the flake flared above. I stoved a cam home in desperation and clawed my way up the final section. Tom got even more pumped seconding with the added trouble of having to remove the gear, so by the time he made it to the belay he was wasted. As such I led the second pitch as well which provided a really contrasting bit of climbing with intricate moves and thought-provoking gear.
Tom had intended on doing Mojo (E1 5b) but a heavy night of drinking the night before crushed his psyche. Instead he tried Sangfroid (HVS 5a) only to be thwarted by the alcohol again. Luckily for me he made it as far as the junction with Sangfroid Direct (E2 5c). I took over the lead on another stunning E2 pitch, very similar in character to The Snake, but this had a bigger feel to it being one long pitch with chunkier flakes. I laybacked up to another flake transfer crux, put some gear in this time and smashed on up direct via some suprisingly hard moves to join The Snake for the technical headwall finale. Then, just as we topped out, the rains came.
I had intended to launch myself headlong into this years routing season with my new found bouldering strength, but it doesn't seem to immediately transfer to routing. Given my current level of fitness and lack of faith in the holding power of my tatty old harness and ropes, I think I may need to invest a little bit of time to that dangerously comfortable 'mileage' mindset, and perhaps a little bit of money on some new gear.
29 February 2012
24 February 2012
Webcam Links
I've added a few links to webcams in North Wales on the right-hand side of the page. If anyone knows of any other good'uns let me know, particularly ones for Gogarth. The live feed from Anglesey is a little gem.
In other news, I've been digitally enhanced, as in the finger is (touchwood) near enough better... and a second gritstone slab of wordplay. Tenuous.
In other news, I've been digitally enhanced, as in the finger is (touchwood) near enough better... and a second gritstone slab of wordplay. Tenuous.
23 February 2012
You can't control the weather
Yesterday I climbed outside for the first time in almost a month. Wales seems to have been embraced by some kind of soggy membrane for several weeks now, this combined with 3rd year's unreasonable workload (nearly 5 hours a week now. Sheesh!) has not been particularly conducive to getting out. However, it's given me time to work on a few other things to help when I do finally get outside. I tried climbing with a weight vest and ankle weights a couple of times and I've seen more or less instant power gains, well, after the 2 days of barely being able to lift my arms or turn my head. I've done some, although admittedly not enough, finger icing and despite a set back at the end of Jauary it seems to be almost healed. Also I've being losing weight steadily this year and feel like I've cracked a diet that works for me. I cut out meat, other than the odd cheap chicken or low price lamb, primarily on a financial basis, and I don't miss it, but I do think I ache a little more after climbing if I haven't hit the post session Yazoo.
Dunc and I arrived at the Orme yesterday as soon as we heard the rumours of some dry rock. Unsure about what to try without a guidebook we warmed-up on Brothers in Arms (6c) which felt amazing. All the training, dieting and rehab had paid off, and being more than 3m of the ground felt liberating. Cranking through the overlaps I couldn't believe how easy it felt for the grade. Back on the deck, I kissed the guns and revelled in a new level of strength whilst Dunc had a similar experience and we both agreed it felt like 6b used to feel.
Then we met up with Livingstone and Sam Rad trying the bouldery Jerusalem is Lost (7a). Dunc got involved and managed a ground-up ascent after Sam who got it second go. Meanwhile, I checked Livingstone's Smartarse Phone for a guide, only to discover the route we had just done was in fact Tony's Route (6a+). A pleasant reality check.
We looked for something we could all try that's not too fingery, and so ended up at Firefly area to try and do all four E3's, placing the gear on one each and leading the other 3 as clip-ups. I remembered I'd done one of them before, but I wasn't quite sure which until I had a flashback when I recognised a particularly sapping undercut. Sam started on Solid Gold (E3 6a) whilst I attempted a wet looking Firefly (E3 5c). Sam made quick progress, I flailed around on moist, soapy pockets and ended up slumping on to the first bolt I intended to make a retreat to try something dry, but, seeing Sam going for it and getting pumped I decided now was the time to get involved. If it was wet the whole way it would just be a bit harder than usual. I pulled back on, cracked on and loved it. The wetness added an exciting element of uncertainty and induced some gimpish whooping. The whole atmosphere changed, it went from being a disappointing, damp and dingy day to a more vibrant, fun and less serious situation. It was the sort of change I normally feel if the sun comes out, but this time there was no physical trigger. It's all just a state of mind. Hopefully I will be able to tap into this more often, perhaps climbing in the rain is a good way to achieve it? Although I'm sure if I did it too much I'd earn the multi-dimensional nickname: Rain man.
Sam and I swapped over with Livingstone and Dunc respectively, who both seemed to make lighter work of the routes than we had. Then it started to rain heavier, but by this point we were all enjoying it so we cracked on. Sam and I re-led the routes cleanly, then we all swapped over for a team clean-up. By this point it was getting late so we headed down to The Cave where a big team of monsters were trying wet V12's. I flailed about on Lou Ferrino (V10) until Nodder took pity on me and give me the numbers. Next go I nailed the one move I'd never managed, so now its just a case of linking the 12 incredibly powerful moves, which just about seems possible. Dunc also made progress on Left Wall Traverse (V8) linking the entire bouldery start at the end of the day so a trip back soon is on the cards.
It's now Thursday, I've got all psyched to climb in the rain and now it's bloody sunny again. Typical.
Dunc and I arrived at the Orme yesterday as soon as we heard the rumours of some dry rock. Unsure about what to try without a guidebook we warmed-up on Brothers in Arms (6c) which felt amazing. All the training, dieting and rehab had paid off, and being more than 3m of the ground felt liberating. Cranking through the overlaps I couldn't believe how easy it felt for the grade. Back on the deck, I kissed the guns and revelled in a new level of strength whilst Dunc had a similar experience and we both agreed it felt like 6b used to feel.
Then we met up with Livingstone and Sam Rad trying the bouldery Jerusalem is Lost (7a). Dunc got involved and managed a ground-up ascent after Sam who got it second go. Meanwhile, I checked Livingstone's Smartarse Phone for a guide, only to discover the route we had just done was in fact Tony's Route (6a+). A pleasant reality check.
We looked for something we could all try that's not too fingery, and so ended up at Firefly area to try and do all four E3's, placing the gear on one each and leading the other 3 as clip-ups. I remembered I'd done one of them before, but I wasn't quite sure which until I had a flashback when I recognised a particularly sapping undercut. Sam started on Solid Gold (E3 6a) whilst I attempted a wet looking Firefly (E3 5c). Sam made quick progress, I flailed around on moist, soapy pockets and ended up slumping on to the first bolt I intended to make a retreat to try something dry, but, seeing Sam going for it and getting pumped I decided now was the time to get involved. If it was wet the whole way it would just be a bit harder than usual. I pulled back on, cracked on and loved it. The wetness added an exciting element of uncertainty and induced some gimpish whooping. The whole atmosphere changed, it went from being a disappointing, damp and dingy day to a more vibrant, fun and less serious situation. It was the sort of change I normally feel if the sun comes out, but this time there was no physical trigger. It's all just a state of mind. Hopefully I will be able to tap into this more often, perhaps climbing in the rain is a good way to achieve it? Although I'm sure if I did it too much I'd earn the multi-dimensional nickname: Rain man.
Sam and I swapped over with Livingstone and Dunc respectively, who both seemed to make lighter work of the routes than we had. Then it started to rain heavier, but by this point we were all enjoying it so we cracked on. Sam and I re-led the routes cleanly, then we all swapped over for a team clean-up. By this point it was getting late so we headed down to The Cave where a big team of monsters were trying wet V12's. I flailed about on Lou Ferrino (V10) until Nodder took pity on me and give me the numbers. Next go I nailed the one move I'd never managed, so now its just a case of linking the 12 incredibly powerful moves, which just about seems possible. Dunc also made progress on Left Wall Traverse (V8) linking the entire bouldery start at the end of the day so a trip back soon is on the cards.
It's now Thursday, I've got all psyched to climb in the rain and now it's bloody sunny again. Typical.
30 January 2012
The Medium of Learning
Well, I finished my exams just in time for the rain to return. I had a few days on The Orme and managed to wrap-up a few Parisella's projects including; Clever Beaver (V8) and the Clever Beaver SS into Right Wall Traverse (V7), the latter opens up a plethora of link-ups to try. I had a crack at some of the Mayfair Wall Routes too. I managed to repeat Julio Juvenito (7a) and flash The Bloods (7a+), but, Bloodsports (7b) got the better of me. I bottled the crux move, reversed and slumped. After a bit of heckling from Callum I continued from where I was. This time I managed the crux, clipped in and took a hang. This still wasn't good enough, so I forced myself to the top of the wall, no more rests no matter what! Needless to say, with the right attitude I left the anxiety behind, and ploughed up to the chains, elbows by my ears. Fitness reclamation phase 1: initiated.
Also, one day, when the cave condensed into a temple of sheen, Callum and I found Manor Crag to be dry. We enjoyed a good V4-7 curcuit on overhanging cracks, steep slappy moves and potentially did a new problem, although apparently the Cattell Brothers 'cleaned-up' here a few years ago. Here's a link to a video of the worthwhile: Why do I have to be Mr Pink? (V5/6).
The most interesting, eye opening event to have happened lately occurred on a trip to the slate with the younger slatesman; Callum Muskett. I went out without any aspirations or routes to try, Callum on the other hand had a few things in mind. First on the agenda was a route on the California backwall, Stairway to Silence (E7 6b). I belayed off a single old bolt high up on a pedastal, while Callum tried to set off from various positions, unsure of the correct/best line. He decided on a thin rockover manouvre to begin and in only 3 moves became pretty committed. After a couple more moves he placed a wobbly skyhook on what looked like a useful hold and pressed on. Once he was stood by the skyhook, it became intense, watching cold fingers struggling to find purchase on the tiny crimps, then... in a moment of perceived madness he lined up for a dyno, a few sharp breaths and some prey mantis-style rocking and...
"TAKE!". Callum returned to the deck at 9.81m/s, ass first, but he was not the real victim.
 |
| Callum still smiling, and the remains of the skyhook, just after decking out on Stairway to Silence (E7 6b). |
The 'trad head' was with me much more than at Gogarth, or, is the route is a softie? Anyone done it?
After this I gave Callum a belay on The Medium (8a), a desparately thin slab testpiece from the Dawes himself. He made light work of it, on toprope, remembering the moves well. I almost declined the offer of a toprope myself, assuming that 8a slabs would be far too hard for me, but without much else new to try I gave it a shot. I popped off before I even got to the hard bit, making me feel pretty useless. Then I thought about it: What makes one man able to stand on these holds, and another unable? Finger strength? Not on these ungrippable slithers of slate. Good edges? Well, I had brand new boots with perfect rubber. Without finding a single reason why I couldn't climb the route but others could, I tried again. Ignoring the feedback from the mob of senses in my feet "off! off! off!" it came together, I got through the whole crux sequence really quickly, bewildered at what just happened.
The one thing I was missing on my first attempt was the belief in myself, that I could do it, the faith in friction and balance. Once I'd thought about it, I was lost for an excuse and just dug in.
Callum led the route straight after my go, not a bad consolation prize. Then, it was on me, I'd not even come to terms with being able to do the moves at all and it was my turn to lead. I set off into the crux sequence with uncertainty and doubt, and my prophesy was right, or self-fulfilling?. I popped off stepping into the crucial sequence. Darkness decended and we left.
This day was an essential day for me I realised two really important lessons:
Don't go out to 'practice', go out with intent. Too often I just go ticking routes and avoiding the main challenge of the day. I need head out with a plan, or at least be more ambitious on arrival.
Secondly, assume you can. I guess this kind of emphasises the first lesson. I need to develop a more 'aggressive' or rather, confronting approach, and rationalise the self doubt within.
I returned two days later with Duncan to try again. This time the conditions were less crispy, but I managed to refine the sequence and on my best effort fell off the final lunge for the '9mm jug'. Hopefully Ill be back tomorrow for the send, to begin learning the lessons.
22 January 2012
Revision Break
Despite having another exam this coming Tuesday, when I came out of Friday's I felt a surge of relief and freedom. The sun had been out for a few days and was set to stick around so I wasted no time in making plans for Gogarth on the saturday. I haven't fiddled in a wire, sent home a cam, nor even draped a sling on a handy nodule for months, so I was pretty damn excited to get out and see how I got on.
I headed out with George to Blacksmith Zawn; an impressive cave, overhanging the sea with an plethora of hard, steep routes. The place is so-called because of the angry blacksmith (who owns a field above the crag), known for throttling Stevie Haston, letting his rabid dogs chase you down, and even bear arms if you are to pass by his turf. Fortunately, on this day the blacksmith was nowhere to be seen.
I racked up for the first route, struggling to keep warm, wondering if bouldering would've been a better idea. We abbed in, just left of the line of choice. Once down at sea-level it was much warmer and really pleasant in the sun. I set off on Groove Tuesday (E2/3 5c) in the adjacent, Smurf Zawn. All the holds felt like jugs, but it was taking three or four goes to get any half decent gear in and my calves noticed the slower pace almost instantly. I got established in the groove proper with steepness overhead. Not wanting to be stood on my calves much longer, I pushed on up to a huge, flat flake in the roof and fiddled a small wire behind it. Only after this did I remember to perform 'the tap of integrity'. The hollow sound coming from the big flake just above my head sent my legs quivering like a silent phone on the bedside table. I scampered back down to a safe place to reconsider. Then, I tucked my skirt in, held my breath, closed my eyes and pulled on the damoclean flake. In a jittery whirl I managed to get the holds above, leaving one final pulse-quickening rockover on the bloody thing, and then I was at the top (retrospectively it's probably not that loose but it certainly felt it at the time).
George took the next lead. With a bigwalling trip to Venezuela in a few days he was pretty keen to get some fitness in and decided to go for Angel Dust (E6 6a). This route is gaining a bit of a reputation for being a fantastic, strenuously overhanging pump-fest through some slightly suspect terrain. It overhangs the sea in every dimension giving it a level of commitment usually reserved for poorly protected, and multipitch routes. Brilliant...
If there's one thing I've learnt whilst studying oceanography (there probably isn't), it is that the sea is pretty unpredictable. So despite thinking we had abbed in after high tide, once george had left the belay the sea began splashing ever closer, in front of me and behind me. I didn't know where to watch. Thankfully an intense proximity is as bad as it got, but it certainly made the belay exciting. George was about halfway now and the sun had gone. It looked hard and I was cold. I considered methods of escape. There was no escape but the route. It's something I often suffer from, belayers nerves. Once I get cold, or have sat around for a while, I lose the desire, but this time I had no choice. George made it to the top. My only incentive to climb was that he had fallen off a few times so I might have an opportunity to burn him off.
In a state of partial rigour mortis, I took the last piece of gear from my belay and set off, on the initial steady ground. I made it to a resting ledge before the real steep stuff and warmed my feet which had become angular, yellow blocks. I set off again with a big committing move straight away so I had to plough on. All the hands and feet sloped away, and it didn't take long for the pump to devour me. All that remained was an undignified dog out.
Usually an early season spanking kicks you into gear, so that's what I'm hoping. I really lacked the ability to hang around and my movement was particularly cagey. I think next time I go trad climbing I'll try something a little less steep first, and I definitely need to take a load of falls to get used to it again. I haven't properly fallen off for a couple of years now and there is without doubt a mental block building up.
Anyway back to something a bit more seasonal. The day after I headed to the pass to meet Kieran, Tim and a few others. The sun never quite made it to the valley bottom so we spent the day freezing our tips off. I tried the last moves of the big roadside face link-up into the V2 on the far right. I managed it second go, and upto this point the traverse is V8, but I'm sure I've read somewhere that the link is V10/V11... What ever the grade is I'm keen to get back and do it when the finger has made a full recovery, it should be good for getting some fitness back.
After this me and Kieran got the tick on Ultimate Retroparty (V8). It was a bit of a battle, every go getting one move further, which made it really satisfying when it went.
After this we had a team send of Bull's Problem (V5/6) a little gem which would probably be one of the most popular problems in the pass if it weren't for the boulder behind it (which only detracts aesthetically).
Keiran made a little video of the day if you're interested: KIERAN'S VIMEO
That's all for now!
I headed out with George to Blacksmith Zawn; an impressive cave, overhanging the sea with an plethora of hard, steep routes. The place is so-called because of the angry blacksmith (who owns a field above the crag), known for throttling Stevie Haston, letting his rabid dogs chase you down, and even bear arms if you are to pass by his turf. Fortunately, on this day the blacksmith was nowhere to be seen.
I racked up for the first route, struggling to keep warm, wondering if bouldering would've been a better idea. We abbed in, just left of the line of choice. Once down at sea-level it was much warmer and really pleasant in the sun. I set off on Groove Tuesday (E2/3 5c) in the adjacent, Smurf Zawn. All the holds felt like jugs, but it was taking three or four goes to get any half decent gear in and my calves noticed the slower pace almost instantly. I got established in the groove proper with steepness overhead. Not wanting to be stood on my calves much longer, I pushed on up to a huge, flat flake in the roof and fiddled a small wire behind it. Only after this did I remember to perform 'the tap of integrity'. The hollow sound coming from the big flake just above my head sent my legs quivering like a silent phone on the bedside table. I scampered back down to a safe place to reconsider. Then, I tucked my skirt in, held my breath, closed my eyes and pulled on the damoclean flake. In a jittery whirl I managed to get the holds above, leaving one final pulse-quickening rockover on the bloody thing, and then I was at the top (retrospectively it's probably not that loose but it certainly felt it at the time).
George took the next lead. With a bigwalling trip to Venezuela in a few days he was pretty keen to get some fitness in and decided to go for Angel Dust (E6 6a). This route is gaining a bit of a reputation for being a fantastic, strenuously overhanging pump-fest through some slightly suspect terrain. It overhangs the sea in every dimension giving it a level of commitment usually reserved for poorly protected, and multipitch routes. Brilliant...
If there's one thing I've learnt whilst studying oceanography (there probably isn't), it is that the sea is pretty unpredictable. So despite thinking we had abbed in after high tide, once george had left the belay the sea began splashing ever closer, in front of me and behind me. I didn't know where to watch. Thankfully an intense proximity is as bad as it got, but it certainly made the belay exciting. George was about halfway now and the sun had gone. It looked hard and I was cold. I considered methods of escape. There was no escape but the route. It's something I often suffer from, belayers nerves. Once I get cold, or have sat around for a while, I lose the desire, but this time I had no choice. George made it to the top. My only incentive to climb was that he had fallen off a few times so I might have an opportunity to burn him off.
In a state of partial rigour mortis, I took the last piece of gear from my belay and set off, on the initial steady ground. I made it to a resting ledge before the real steep stuff and warmed my feet which had become angular, yellow blocks. I set off again with a big committing move straight away so I had to plough on. All the hands and feet sloped away, and it didn't take long for the pump to devour me. All that remained was an undignified dog out.
Usually an early season spanking kicks you into gear, so that's what I'm hoping. I really lacked the ability to hang around and my movement was particularly cagey. I think next time I go trad climbing I'll try something a little less steep first, and I definitely need to take a load of falls to get used to it again. I haven't properly fallen off for a couple of years now and there is without doubt a mental block building up.
Anyway back to something a bit more seasonal. The day after I headed to the pass to meet Kieran, Tim and a few others. The sun never quite made it to the valley bottom so we spent the day freezing our tips off. I tried the last moves of the big roadside face link-up into the V2 on the far right. I managed it second go, and upto this point the traverse is V8, but I'm sure I've read somewhere that the link is V10/V11... What ever the grade is I'm keen to get back and do it when the finger has made a full recovery, it should be good for getting some fitness back.
After this me and Kieran got the tick on Ultimate Retroparty (V8). It was a bit of a battle, every go getting one move further, which made it really satisfying when it went.
 |
| Me on Ultimate Retroparty (V8). KK Kollection |
 |
| Tim on Bull's Problem (V5). KK Kollection |
Keiran made a little video of the day if you're interested: KIERAN'S VIMEO
That's all for now!
10 January 2012
The Bad Finger
In the last post I mentioned a little finger niggle. As usual it's in the base of my left-hand, ring finger (A5?). Whilst my belief in Santa wears thin (seriously, in one night?), if he substantiated his argument for exsistence by claiming to have been tweaking my fingers every christmas time (perhaps because he'd ran out of coal or something), I might begin to believe again.
It always seems to be between Chrimbo and New Year does the tweak, the scourge of my climbing.
But, I think I'm getting it now. Usually I detatch myself from the blame, assigning my misfortune to that mystic energy field known as luck, or lack thereof. This year though, this year I decided I want to do something about it. So, instead of shunning responsibility and releasing myself to the wholesome temptations of saturated fats throughout Winter, I decided to watch my weight. In september I weighed around 11 stone, 3 months of healthy eating and calorific awareness and the Christmas Eve weigh in... 9st 11lbs. Crucially though, I have no finger injury.
Then Boxing Day comes along, with all that Chrimbo dinner increasing my gravitational attraction, I get the annual tweak. It was blowing an absolute hoolie that day so I didn't really feel anything until I got home and warm.
I'm not really suggesting a few days of heavy eating twanged the tendon, but the cumulative effect of festive inevitabilities probably did. A slight increase in weight + dehydration from boozing + cold temps + rushed warm-ups = injury. Apparently, if the body is dehydrated, one of the first parts of the body to lose its moisture is the tendons, particularly at extremities. If a tendon is dry and cold, it is unlikely to have much by way of supplty. Under the increased stress of a bit of extra weight what else could I expect?
Now though, where usually I would be overcome with frustration and hit the campus board with furious denial, I have remained positive about my situation and decided to take the necessary steps towards recovery and prevention of further injury.
The day after the injury I began an icing regime, alternating between hot and cold for about 5-10 minutes each. I've not stopped climbing on it, I had a few day rest then spent my time in the peak climbing open-handed and avoided any high impact moves on my left hand. I've been drinking more and warming-up more, but the one new thing I've added to the rehab-mix is the use of a metolius gripsaver ball (It's one of those foam balls with rubber finger and thumb loops coming out both ends).
Supposedly, the outward pull on the elasticated loops works the muscles in opposition to how you usually would when climbing. The idea here is that it balances the muscles out, so the discrepancy between protagonist (muscle working in the direction of force) and antagonist (working against the direction of force) is less significant, and therefore the fingers become more stabilised and less prone to injury. In just three days of use I've noticed big gains in outward strength, and usually when this happens it means you were really shit at it to begin with, which would support the idea of my fingers being very unbalanced. I'm gonna stick with it, and if I don't get an injury next year squeezing balls gets my vote!
It always seems to be between Chrimbo and New Year does the tweak, the scourge of my climbing.
But, I think I'm getting it now. Usually I detatch myself from the blame, assigning my misfortune to that mystic energy field known as luck, or lack thereof. This year though, this year I decided I want to do something about it. So, instead of shunning responsibility and releasing myself to the wholesome temptations of saturated fats throughout Winter, I decided to watch my weight. In september I weighed around 11 stone, 3 months of healthy eating and calorific awareness and the Christmas Eve weigh in... 9st 11lbs. Crucially though, I have no finger injury.
Then Boxing Day comes along, with all that Chrimbo dinner increasing my gravitational attraction, I get the annual tweak. It was blowing an absolute hoolie that day so I didn't really feel anything until I got home and warm.
I'm not really suggesting a few days of heavy eating twanged the tendon, but the cumulative effect of festive inevitabilities probably did. A slight increase in weight + dehydration from boozing + cold temps + rushed warm-ups = injury. Apparently, if the body is dehydrated, one of the first parts of the body to lose its moisture is the tendons, particularly at extremities. If a tendon is dry and cold, it is unlikely to have much by way of supplty. Under the increased stress of a bit of extra weight what else could I expect?
Now though, where usually I would be overcome with frustration and hit the campus board with furious denial, I have remained positive about my situation and decided to take the necessary steps towards recovery and prevention of further injury.
The day after the injury I began an icing regime, alternating between hot and cold for about 5-10 minutes each. I've not stopped climbing on it, I had a few day rest then spent my time in the peak climbing open-handed and avoided any high impact moves on my left hand. I've been drinking more and warming-up more, but the one new thing I've added to the rehab-mix is the use of a metolius gripsaver ball (It's one of those foam balls with rubber finger and thumb loops coming out both ends).
Supposedly, the outward pull on the elasticated loops works the muscles in opposition to how you usually would when climbing. The idea here is that it balances the muscles out, so the discrepancy between protagonist (muscle working in the direction of force) and antagonist (working against the direction of force) is less significant, and therefore the fingers become more stabilised and less prone to injury. In just three days of use I've noticed big gains in outward strength, and usually when this happens it means you were really shit at it to begin with, which would support the idea of my fingers being very unbalanced. I'm gonna stick with it, and if I don't get an injury next year squeezing balls gets my vote!
9 January 2012
012012
Currently awash in a sea of revision, not much is occuring except bouts of online procrastination, a few sit-ups and a few more house chores than usual, although, over new year I did manage a moist trip to the peak. The first day SteveR and I arrived at a wet Secret Garden, departed and ended up at plan Z: Minus Ten wall (an everdry base to a short quarried face). The rock was dry enough, but our enthusiasm dampened, it was only after much deliberation that shoes were adorned. It felt like climbing in a cold, damp pyrex cellar. Shoe rubber became moistened with every step on the mat, so friction maintainance became the number one priority for the rest of the sesh. I mostly only managed repeats, but I did get one new 7A tick which felt very satisfying. It does seem that every problem on this wall has superb movement, yet, it could just be that in the absence of any independent problems, natural aesthesis or friction, like an eye to light, my appreciation aperture became dilated beyond usual dimensions.
Day Two: New Year's Eve and the hydrosphere is in giving mode. The plan is, Early session at The Works, and an evening of celebrating another successful orbit. The works is good fun, but a finger niggle keeps me from achieving much. Similarly, the evening was a memorable one, marred by an over zealous swig of absinthe too early in the evening. Beyond this I couldn't face anymore alcohol, and had to sit out on a night of beer/testosterone-fuelled madness.
Day Three: New Year's Day, riding on the crest of a hangover, fending it off with a shitty Weatherspoons burger and a good stint in front of the hypno-box.
Day Four: (Avoiding revision day 1) was the day I discovered that Birchen Edge has nearly as much quality to offer the boulderer as the wire wielding, weekend warrior. We (Me, Laura, Steve, Guy, Jo, James, Billy, Noakesy and Scooby) hit up a great V4-V7 curcuit including, a campussy dyno, a technical scoop, a highball roof and a lowball compression problem. It's well worth a visit if you climb around V6 and fancy a varied set of problems. See GvG's blog for a video and his account of the day: Guy's Blog.
Day Five: (Avoiding revision day 2) 'MORE WATER!', another session at The Works materialised. This time I was going a lot better, having got used to the styles in play here and managed to get up a lot more things in a lot fewer goes. At half time we enjoyed tea and buscuits. Toodle pip.
Day Two: New Year's Eve and the hydrosphere is in giving mode. The plan is, Early session at The Works, and an evening of celebrating another successful orbit. The works is good fun, but a finger niggle keeps me from achieving much. Similarly, the evening was a memorable one, marred by an over zealous swig of absinthe too early in the evening. Beyond this I couldn't face anymore alcohol, and had to sit out on a night of beer/testosterone-fuelled madness.
Day Three: New Year's Day, riding on the crest of a hangover, fending it off with a shitty Weatherspoons burger and a good stint in front of the hypno-box.
Day Four: (Avoiding revision day 1) was the day I discovered that Birchen Edge has nearly as much quality to offer the boulderer as the wire wielding, weekend warrior. We (Me, Laura, Steve, Guy, Jo, James, Billy, Noakesy and Scooby) hit up a great V4-V7 curcuit including, a campussy dyno, a technical scoop, a highball roof and a lowball compression problem. It's well worth a visit if you climb around V6 and fancy a varied set of problems. See GvG's blog for a video and his account of the day: Guy's Blog.
Day Five: (Avoiding revision day 2) 'MORE WATER!', another session at The Works materialised. This time I was going a lot better, having got used to the styles in play here and managed to get up a lot more things in a lot fewer goes. At half time we enjoyed tea and buscuits. Toodle pip.
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