James "Keen Youth" Pearson began climbing at age 15 and burst onto the scene with a string of insanely hard ascents of Gritstone Trad routes at an incredibly young age. James has travelled the world, repeating and making first ascents of the toughest boulder problems and routes. James’ focus has recently been on bouldering.
Learn more about James Pearson.
We had a lazy start today, arriving at the cliff at 4pm, just as a huge thunderstorm developed. The gentle breeze turned into a gale, and Em and I were quickly chilled to the bone. Earlier, in the 30 degree campsite, I had shrugged off Emily’s advice to take a sweater, a choice I was now regretting. I really wanted to try Bah Bah Black Sheep, and so sheepishly asked Em if I could climb in her hoodie in exchange for my waterproof shell.
What a sight! Me swinging around getting blown all over the place wearing a skin tight girls hoodie, and Emily lovingly shivering away below on belay duty in multiple multicoloured shells. I went bolt to bolt as quick as I could and happily found the moves not to bad, linking the route in a few sections.
The route is a strange affair, with very varied climbing and an unusual crux. There are two points I think may prove difficult on a redpoint; the jump after the crux moves, and a dynamic lock at the end of all the hard climbing. We only have a few days left in Ceuse before moving north to Chamonix so I’m not getting my hopes up too much, just enjoying climbing in a new area.
I opened one of my last posts on my other blog talking about slackness but I feel my blog activity of late has redefined the word. As you may already know, throughout April and May I was part of The North Face Summit Series Road trip and since time was incredibly short, I didn’t feel a pressing need to complete my personal blog, especially since we were already writing a daily account for the trip. Unfortunatley, this habit carried over once I returned home, days turned into weeks, weeks to months, and here we are, a long long way down the line with very little said.
The truth is you haven’t really missed much. I have been trying to maintain/improve upon the stamina I found during the roadtrip, which has mainly involved tedious circuits down the wall. But gains feel minimal and slow coming, and motivation is often hard to come by. Giving up and going bouldering or trad shuffling is certainly a tempting alternative but if I can break through this wall I hope the grass will be a lot greener on the other side.
To celebrate Emily finishing Bar school, we are currently on our first climbing trip together in two years. Six days in and we are camping at Ceuse which is wonderful. Believe it or not, this is my first time at the crag and it is certainly living up to expectations, both the routes and the walk in.
Long walks are most definitely not my thing, and on the first day I was really feeling the pain; especially after leaving the car keys in my sack at the top of the hill and having to do the entire thing twice!
Since returning from China, which by the way was pretty cool, I have had an intresting and eventful week. I should probably write about the awesome rock in China or the crazy festival in Yangshou, but time is a commodity I don’t have much of, and the following few paragraphs seemed more important at the current moment. There are however some pics of the Yangshou Climbing festival online athttp://www.flickr.com/photos/ho_faifai/sets/72157608636045288/ Right, down to business
There seems to have been a bit of a storm over repeats of some of my first ascents and I have had some pretty hurtful things written about me by people I have never met. I understand that by choosing to live my life in the climbing public’s eye, I open myself up to abuse that would not normally be there, and in the past I have done my best to take this on the chin. This time however, it was different. The words I read stung, especially the ones questioning and doubting my honesty and integrity. It upset me how spontaneously cruel people could be but I guess is should come as no surprise in what is often a spontaneously cruel world.
The Promise has been repeated twice by the incredibly talented visiting Americans and as you are all well aware, they proposed a downgrade from E10 to E8. Whilst at first this came as a bit of a shock, I know that grading trad routes is far from an exact science and that things can change. I wanted to meet the guys for various reasons, but mainly because I was impressed by the way they had not only climbed, but reported these repeats – honestly, politely and courteously, with the minimum of fuss and the maximum of facts. They seemed like really sound guys; refreshingly different from the “jump on the band wagon”, “burn the witch” mentality which unfortunately seems prevalent in the UK.
I met up with them at a very windy Curbar, shortly after Alex had made a flash ascent of The End Of The Affair. In line with what I have said above, he was incredibly modest, and un-phased by this very news worthy ascent and told me, without a hint of snobbery or cockiness, that he felt the route was E6!
We moved to a different part of the crag, and chatted about this and that between ascents of this and that. Inevitably, like all climbers, we got on to the subject of grades and did our best to put the world to rite.
I thought of something Leo Houlding had said about how routes with a high historical value have been, and should continue to be, used as benchmarks for grading other routes by. I asked Alex to assume, from a historical perspective, that TEOTA is E8 (the grade it has been for the last 22 years) and then asked him what grade The Promise would be in relation to this? His answer was without hesitation – E10
Quote from Andy Popp on UKBouldering.com
“ just wanted to inject a little historical perspective before everyone runs away with the idea the older routes are dead easy and were (either wilfully or delusionally) overgraded. This is just an example I can draw on from personal experience, and not an attempt at bigging myself up. When I did the third ascent of TEOTA in 92 it had lain unrepeated for 6 years. The floodgates didn't suddenly open afterwards - I don't think it got another repeat for several more years. So, it hasn' always been a trade route. At the time I had a solid track record in onsighting grit E6 (going back to Fistful - mooted by some as E7 - in 1985), had onsighted one route now graded E7 (The Salmon), and headpointed, ususally with v. light practice a bunch of E7s. Basically I think I knew the score and the TEOTA simply felt harder than everything else, E8 in fact. If it goes down to E7 so be it but I think if it does we will require MASS downgrading across grit.”
Alex then said that the reason he and Kevin had thought The Promise not E10, is that they were under the impression that E10 and 7a were the limit of our grading scale – simply put, the hardest a traditional route could ever be. They are not alone in this view; the more I read on the forums or talk to people when out climbing, the more I hear this misconception that E10 and 7a are the absolute limit.
I don’t know where this idea has come from, the way I have always understood the “E” system is, like any other grading scale, it is open ended. As standards improve, and people climb harder routes than before, the grade of these routes will increase. When you take away all the glitz and glam, the magic and the bullshit, and look at routes in very simple terms it becomes very obvious. If the holds are smaller, or further apart, or the protection is worse, then the route is harder, and so the grade increases.
New grades should be nothing to be scared about, nor should they be scorned, but this appears to be the mentality in the UK, which in my opinion has done incredible damage to the UK trad system, resulting in cries of “the E Grade is broken”. I don’t think it is broken, but I do think it is being misused and if it is to regain any usefulness there need to be some fundamental refines, starting with the insanity that is the ever widening English tech grade! (more about this in my next post)
It also seems to me that over time, as a route receives more ascents from more people, the perception of how difficult it is goes down. This seems mainly based on the number of people who are now able to climb at that level and, to me, this seems madness. Standards move on, people get better, but the routes do not (rarely) change. Just because a route is further away from the cutting edge, does not make it any easier than the day it was first climbed.
If we can come to terms with moving things forward, I feel this issue of “backwards condensing” would no longer be a problem. We should be proud of where we have come from, but prouder of where we are going.
I finally fell asleep way too late and was woke by my alarm way too early. After waking up a little and cleaning the sleep from my eyes, I opened up my computer to catch up with life back home. After browsing all my usual sites, I saw the news about The Promise finally getting a repeat on UKB and excitedly clicked the link. E8! Was this some kind of joke? I read down expecting to find a punch-line lurking somewhere but none came and I realised it was for real. The route, that until this year was the culmination of all of my climbing, was now being compared to the likes of Gaia, and End of the Affair! Jumping to conclusions before knowing all the facts is the habit of fools, so I read all of the information I could find on the ascent before going any further. A team of young American trad stars, including Kevin Jorgeson (solo of The Fly and FA of The Duel) and Alex Honnold (solo ascents of Moonlight Buttress and Regular North West Face, Half Dome) were practically destroying Gritstone, and The Promise was their latest in a long line of top class trophies. After reading the various reports of the ascent, and letting all of the information digest, everything started to make a little more sense. The Promise in an hour, regardless of anything else, is an amazing bit of work. My hat is well and truly off. It seems like there is a bit of a storm raging on our beloved little island and I am sad that I am not there to witness it in person, but you gotta be where you gotta be. Maybe I will get chance to climb with Kevin when I return from the land of the rising sun, that is if he has not already done everything and gone home. So The Promise... When I first climbed this route almost 2 years ago you all knew my thoughts and feelings as my comments were recorded in many mediums for all to read and hear. Surprisingly or not, I still feel exactly the same, and if I was to climb this route again today, using the same style etc, I would grade it exactly the same as my experience and comparisons would be the same. To save both your time and mine, I am not going to go into detail over my reasoning because I have already written lots on the subject (comparing it to Equilibrium etc) that will be easy to find for anyone interested with a little help from their good friend Google. To quote something I wrote a few weeks ago “When you offer a grade to a first ascent, what you are effectively doing is defining your experience as a point on a scale. Since your experience is deeply personal, this grade is only really relevant to you and may change, up or down, depending on future ascentionists experiences” Simply put, the “rules” for climbing are very subjective and the overall difficulty will change dramatically depending on the tactics used. There are very few “rights” or “wrongs”, but lots of differences, so I feel it is important to declare exactly how a particular ascent is made. The difference between mine and Kevin’s view on the route comes down to our experience so I guess we should look at if, how and why they differed? Below is a copy of Kevin’s report of his ascent that was posted in the news section of UKClimbing. As you will notice, I have added in a little superscript and I will make footnotes about these points below. Thanks to Kevin for making it so clear as to exactly what he did. Today I managed to climb The Promise at Burbage North for its second ascent. On my initial inspection two days ago on rappel, I didn't even try the moves. The original beta just seemed completely out of the question 1. Returning today, looking at the chalk on the holds, I visualized a new possibility for the beta and gave it a try. This involved turning a right hand pocket to an undercling, which as a result shortened the reach to a bad sloper. I quickly did the moves with the new beta on top rope, rested, and climbed it clean on top rope 1. After figuring out how to place the slider nut, which was surprisingly bomber 2, I was ready to go. I climbed up, placed the piece and returned to the ground. On the lead, there always seems to be some unplanned decision to be made. For me, it was the position of my right foot on a key hold relative to the rope. This unplanned decision resulted in me placing my right foot a little wrong, requiring a readjustment. Once in place, the crux move felt quite a bit harder than I was anticipating. Luckily, there was enough tolerance in the move that I was still able to stick it. The whole process took about an hour. The obvious question that arose was regarding the grade. After climbing Parthian Shot, The New Statesman, and The Promise and having spent two days on Equilibrium and one on The Groove, my opinion is that the grade falls at E8, 5.13c/d R 4. The reason for this is that a fall from the crux would not result in a ground fall, assuming the gear holds. Regarding the gear, the only way that it would fail is if the cables broke 3. After bounce testing the piece while clipped directly into my harness, I was confident that it would hold 2. It should also be stated that I placed two crashpads at the base of the climb 5. All in all, the route climbs wonderfully and would highly recommend it to anyone 6! 1. The first obvious difference seems to be in the sequence. It is completely possible that I missed an easier method, and if this is the case, then it would affect the overall difficulty. Time, and more repeats will tell if this is the case. 2. It also seems that Kevin found the protection to be much more trustworthy than I did. The slider ripped out during testing, and when I set off on my ascent, it was with a belief that the gear would fail in a fall, but possibly slow me down. Why the protection now seems better than before, I cannot say as I have not seen the placement since making the first ascent. 3. Regarding the only way the gear could fail – I think it is highly more likely the placement would give way before the piece breaks. People that are familiar with sliders know how small and expansion range there is on a No.1, and people that are familiar with gritstone know how easily rock is damaged/worn away in gear placements (just take a peek inside any popular friend placement). It really wouldn’t need that much to crumble under load (even just a crystal) for the slider to expand too far and pop right out. 4. Kevin offers a proposed grade of E8, 13c/d, R based on his experience and comparisons with other routes he has climbed including Parthian Shot which I believe the team regarded as E9, 13b/c, R/X (I hope this is still the current feeling because China won’t let me onto peoples blogs to check if minds have been changed with hindsight). Am I alone in noticing the obvious discrepancy - before we even go into more detail? If we do compare specifics of each route, Parthian Shot is 8a/+ with a fall (off a 6c crux move) into air onto wires in a flake that has been described as “bomber”. “Bomber” or not, the flake has held well over 50 falls which would suggest to me that it is trustworthy. The Promise was given 8b+ but may be easier due to a new sequence being discovered? A fall from the 7a crux would be onto a single No.1 Ballnut in a tiny slot that has both held, and failed during body weight tests and has never taken a fall. There are the facts and figures, make of them what you will. 5. Around 4 years ago I decided to make an ethical stand and not use bouldering pads to protect trad routes. This decision was based on many reasons that I am not going into now as would only dilute the current discussion. There have been times however, where I had wished I had not gone down this road as it has made certain things a lot less attainable and much more dangerous. The Promise was one of these times. On a route so short, with such a bad landing, a few pads would have change things dramatically, turning a dangerous route into something very different. Maybe my approach was foolish, but I chose to take this path, and I will stick with it through good and bad. Please don’t take this as a dig at anyone, because it is most definitely not. Climb what you want, when you want and how you want, just make sure that when it matters, the facts are clear. You should never feel forced to sit in a certain box and conform to people’s expectations. Be a renegade... 6. It sure does, The moves are ace and it is one of my favourite routes :) Now that The Promise is finished, I guess the question on everybody’s lips is what’s next? On a bit of a tangent, but very related, I was reading about Kevin’s ascent of The Duel, a 25ft wall at Hueco that he graded V10/E10 and was protected by 17 pads. Using many, many pads to protect short (less than 45ft) solos seems to be the way that things are heading in the US, effectively making great big highballs, with big soft landings (just to confirm, this is not in direct reference to The Duel which from what I can gather has a particularly nasty landing, but US highballing in general). In many ways this makes perfect sense. The technology to make these problems safe(r) is there, so surely it is foolish not to use it. So what about the Grit? If 2 pads can make such a difference to a short route like The Promise, then imagine what 17 would do. If 17, why not 18, if 18 why not 20, if 20 why not... I know I am exaggerating a little, but you get the point. For a rock type where the level is often defined by the danger (I know that’s not the whole truth but I’m trying to simplify) how would using a protection device that’s protectional ability is almost unquantifiable work? It would never be black and white, but many shades of grey! It was for reasons like this that I decided to stop using pads until the murky waters clear. I do not know the answer; in fact I barely understand all the questions. But what I do know is things are getting more and more confusing and blurred for each day that passes.
I
am in China and I can’t sleep, so what better time to write a blog
post. Since my last post, not much has gone on, which is good for me as
it means I don’t have to write reams, but not so for you, as my
precisely planned prose will only entertain you for a tiny part of your
lives. Still, you must surely have more important things to do than
listen to me warble on about nothing in particular, so in reality, I am
doing you all a favour ;)
My week at work
was literally hell, so bad that I don’t want to talk about it, so let
us say no more. Friday eventually came and along with it brought Richie
at the Warehouse Project which was something I had been looking forward
to for a long time. Sadly, for reasons mentioned above, I had racked up
less than ideal sleep hours the previous week and by 2pm, an hour
before Richie even came on, I could take no more and bailed.
Thankfully, according to a very knowledgeable and respected source, his
set was only average and so my warm comfy bed now seemed like a fairly
smart choice.
Once semi recovered it was time for Keith (or
Unclesomebody productions if we are being formal) and I to pull some
David Blaine shit and make the magic - can you feel it? We directed,
starred, filmed, edited and produced. Tirelessly slaving away over hot
stoves and on-screen Keyboards for 3 days until Galatea came to be. I
am not sure if our creation will ever grace the public domain, and
maybe that is a good thing. Your imagination is more entertaining than
any film could ever be, and if you try hard enough (and know Keith and
I well ;) ), I am sure you can come up with your own ideas...
Thursday
found me in London meeting with some well known male magazines, ooohhhh
HALAM, which was definitely a new and somewhat strange experience. I
really dislike London. The hustle and bustle and attitude of a lot of
the people does not agree with me but like a lot of things, once in a
while won’t hurt. I think I got a little carried away with the
cosmopolitan lifestyle, or maybe it was just from living the good life
on company accounts, but on returning home that evening I took Emily
out to one of Manchester’s best restaurants for a fancy farewell meal.
The food was out of this world, and it was very pleasant to spend some
quality time with Em after what has been a crazy few months. When it
came to paying the bill, Emily produced some vouchers she had found
online for 2 meals for the price of one and a big smile crossed my
face. Great company, great food and a great deal, what more could you
want.
Just over a day later I was saying goodbye to Emily and
begining my long, staggered journey to Yangshou. Manchester -
Frankfurt, Frankfurt - Beijing, Beijing - Guilin, Guilin - Yangshou.
I
arrived in town in the evening and stumbled aimlessly up and down the
streets in search of my hotel. After asking various people and finding
the garbled chinglish directions of little use, a nice young man kindly
offered to escort me and I gladly followed. Down back alleys and
through restaurant kitchens, I began to get a little worried, but
suddenly there it was. TNF had been kind to me once again and I wasted
no time in collapsing into the luxury bed, shortly followed to a much
needed visit to the land of nod.
After a day of chilaxing, I met
up with some old friends and who took me rock climbing, which is
something I have heard lots of good things about and felt strangely
familiar, possibly I did some in a past life? Anyway I had great fun,
despite the heat and must remember to try it again sometime. To escape
from the sun, we went for a quick swim in a water cave, which was
pretty cool, in more ways than one. Here are a few pics
We bailed back to town for a clean and a feed. I asked my friends to take me to the best Szechuan restaurant and arranged to meet them at 6pm. Once
everyone had arrived, we all walked to the restaurant of choice, which
happened to be right next to my hotel, and a place I had disregarded on
a few previous occasions for reasons I don’t actually know. The food was amazing, the best I have had in China so far and I am sure I will be returning tomorrow.
We finished eating at about 6.50pm and I decided to go to my room for some work, a movie and an early night. It is now 01.20 am and I have failed to get to sleep for a second time. It is not fun and I don’t envy insomniacs in the slightest.
I’m back again in glorious Devon, for the 4th time to try and climb my project. The whole process began so innocently all those years ago but over time has grown into a real monster. During my initial forays onto the route, I could never have guessed just how much of my time would be taken up by, and how big a part of my life this route would become. It has been at the front of my mind for the last few months, ever since I decided (possibly prematurely) that I was ready to lead it and all my plans, my whole life in fact, have been structured to fit around these trips down south.
If I had to choose one feeling that summed up these trips it would be frustration. But there have been little rays of sunshine that make it all bearable and ultimately, these experiences make me a better person. The most important thing I have learnt is how to accept situations for what they are and to be patient. Sometimes, no matter how much you want something, external forces out of your control just will not let it happen and it would be foolish to try to take them on.
Now to anyone reading this, that may sound like a very submissive outlook and to a point I would agree. But when your life is literally on the line, surely the smart money is on waiting until the cards are in your favour, or at least until you are playing on an even field. Whilst there is a certain allure being a hero, fighting against the odds and going out in a blaze of glory, my instincts for self-preservation is strong and I would rather live to fight another day.
Today is day number 4. Day 1 was spent stuck in traffic; Day 2 was cool but very humid making even the individual moves feel impossible. Day 3 was warmer but dryer and the idea of the lead sparked in my head until I heard a weather report for day 4 and decided to cut my losses and save my skin.
After a decent feed to re-fuel my tired body, day 4 dawned clear, cool and crisp. Is this what I have been waiting for?
Time will tell...
A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away, a few isolated individuals, from completely separate locations, did something that people thought a little crazy. Tearing off their shackles and throwing caution to the wind, they climbed free and solo above the ocean and a new style was born. In England they called it Deep Water Soloing, in Spain it was christened Psicobloc, but the name is almost irrelevant, it is the feeling that matters.
At first, most thought they were crazy and they were left to entertain themselves, but gradually, others began to see the true path and over time, the new way gained an ever growing, committed following. People became hooked by the feeling of complete freedom that was so often missing from other forms of climbing and devoted themselves to the rock and the sea. 
Still, Psicobloc remained in the shadows whilst other styles took centre stage. Try as they might to convince others, the converted found it difficult to explain the magic of the sensation in words alone, for to truly know Psicobloc, you need to experience it for yourself. And this presented a problem...
For the magic to exist, certain elements must align with one another. The Sun, the Sea, and the Rock must all work in harmony, and if any one of them is lacking, the magic disappears. Without the magic, the feeling is very different and fear creeps steadily into your head. Perfect spots to practice Psicobloc are few and far between. Cold Seas, shallow water, unpleasant weather and painful rock are unfortunately common and are enough to scar any aspiring disciple’s body or mind. However, perfection does exist, and where the magic flows free you would be forgiven in calling it heaven.
My own initial experiences were not the greatest and I found myself approaching the rock with a trad climbing mentality of great caution and restrain. I struggled to believe the stories I heard about fearless freedom and pushed Psicobloc to the back of my thoughts, until one day I received an invitation asking if I would like to join them on a trip to Mallorca.
Red Bull were holding a Psicobloc festival between the 8th and the 14th of September and had invited six climbers from around the world to explore and develop the sport, whilst living on a luxury catamaran. Erm... hold on... I just need to check my diary... are you kidding, of course I will go. I accepted before I even thought it through but as the destination day drew ever nearer, I remembered my unfavourable past experiences and suddenly it didn’t seem like such a good idea. On top of that, I am not the best swimmer, and I am scared of jellyfish, so the thought of often rough, jellyfish infested water sent a chill to my bones. But now was not a time to be a mouse, for the path to enlightenment is often difficult under foot. 
I arrived in Mallorca, feeling very tired from a festival I had been at, and was met by Alvaro Vitores from Red Bull. Alvaro is a fantastic guy, full of energy with a permanent smile on his face and he made me feel right at home from the very start. We arrived at the boat and I was introduced to the whole crew which included Athletes, Red Bull people, the production team and the Capitan. Everyone was super nice and I felt very welcome. I relaxed into my chair for a night of listening to beautiful Spanish sounds.
The athlete team included The North Face® Athletes Iker and Eneko Pou, the locals Neus Torrens and Miguel Riera and Psicobloc legend Tony Lamprecht,. All of them were inspirational for different reasons, but Miguel was the guru, one of the first. He was there from the beginning, a pioneer of the style and the one who gave Psicobloc its name. Way back in the 80’s, Miguel was climbing on these pristine cliffs, way above the ocean and has never looked back. Finally, in 2001, he invited a team of international superstars to this little island for something he hoped would be “worth the trip”. Everyone was blown away and Mallorca became Mecca for Psicobloc enthusiasts from around the world.
On the first climbing day, the seas were rough and the team had planned to go to Cova Del Diable, the islands crowning jewel. Unfortunately the air was incredibly humid and the rock was really wet. Miguel asked me to follow him on a reci of the crag and I obediently followed, hoping my nervous thoughts of 20 meter falls from greasy rock into choppy seas did not show. I have never felt slippier rock but we battled on and soon I found myself below the famous Afroman. I tried in vain to watch other people try and fail on the slimy moves but I could not see the holds around the corner. My turn came and I reluctantly set off, but as soon as I began to climb, fear disappeared and all I thought about was my battle with the grease.
Splash... It was as simple and as natural as that. Painless, stress less, perfect. My love affair with Psicobloc had begun.
After a couple of really humid days where conditions were poor the wind finally changed direction and we found ourselves at a slightly damp, but very climbable Diablo. I warmed up a little before joining a growing number of damp climbers on the dry bag ledge and began to prepare myself for today’s route of choice. Tony Lamprecht, Iker Pou and I decided to try our luck on Loskot and Two Smoking Barrels which was made famous in the climbing film Dosage 2 and features a huge all points off dyno, 15m above the crashing waves.
After watching Iker and Tony fall off, it was my turn to give the route a shot and I nervously traversed towards the start. I was unsure of how I would feel about hurling myself uncontrollably off the rock so far above the water but once I set off up the wall all nervousness disappeared and I launched for the twin pockets with all I had. My hand went in, but just as quickly ripped out and I squealed like a school girl as I headed towards the drink. Puta.
After drying off again on the ledge, it was time for round two. I set up for the jump, and could hardly believe how far away the pockets looked. It seemed really unlikely but I went for it anyway and a second later I was horizontal, holding the swing and letting out a whoop of joy. Screams erupted from above and below, “this is the life” I thought.
I felt happy and relaxed, but soon remembered there were still a few hard moves to go. Tony was screaming the beta at the top of his lungs and thanks to his instruction I made it to the last move. I tried to static a long reach to a two finger pocket that I should have slapped but my hand could only hover 5cm below the hold. With nothing more to give, the sea was calling; I picked up speed, splash.
That single moment of catching the jug was one of the best I can remember in climbing and epitomised all that Psicobloc is about. I didn’t try the route again. For some reason, getting to the top did not seem important and I wanted to keep that moment of contact special, at least until my next visit.
Days passed, just as they always do and my time in paradise slowly drew to an end. On the last day we climbed at Cala Barques which really is a perfect venue for trying or watching others try Psicobloc. This made it the obvious choice for the last day’s location and we were joined by many local and international climbers, creating a fabulous and friendly atmosphere. With everyone encouraging each other, and the boat playing great tunes, it was easy to give the routes everything you had, resulting in some inspirational ascents.
The sun set slowly over the horizon and it was time to party. The Red Bull crew are not known for doing things by halves and tonight was to be no different. It may have been the atmosphere, or it may have been the never ending supply of vodka red bulls, but the first time I looked at the time it was past 4am. We moved on to another venue which I thought was surprisingly good for a small town. The DJ’s played good tunes and mixed them well, what more can you ask for.
I woke up the next morning to a fuzzy world and forced myself to pack my bags. After eating lunch, I got chance to see the photos from the week, courtesy of Damiano Levati and they were amazing. I was blown away by some of the images and found myself feeling very sad that it had all come to an end.
I said my good byes to friends old and new and headed for the airport. My week in Mallorca was nothing but a pleasure and has introduced me to the wonders of Psicobloc which I can see playing a big part in my future climbing. I think the real joy of this style, is feeling completely free from the normal constraints that climbing can put on you. Everything that I love about climbing is magnified and intensified by Psicobloc making for an incredibly pure and special experience. Climb where you want, climb how you want. Enjoy.
-James Pearson
My time in Spain has come to an end and as usual, I find myself writing this from an airport. I guess it makes sense... Airports are possibly the most boring, and least enjoyable part of my life and so writing a blog, which is usually fairly low on my list of priorities, suddenly seems like a fantastic idea when the alternatives involve pacing up and down, or watching the information boards to find out how long my flight is delayed by. In fact, today, I have hit the airport blogging jackpot. I have found a place so perfect that all other airport blog sessions will hence forth be measured against this moment.
Firstly, I am in a fairly deserted part of the airport, well away from all the overweight, pink, hung-over Britons on their way back from a fortnight package holiday in beautiful Benidorm. Secondly, I am next to a power socket which I am happily borrowing electricity from to ensure my laptop stays fully charged for today’s in-flight movie. And thirdly, I am right in front of an info board so I can keep track of my epic, without even getting up. In theory, my flight will be departing at 21:00, but in practice, it is 20:45 and there is still not a gate listed.
It took a lot of searching to find this spot but I can assure you it was totally worth it. I would advise anyone else who has to spend time in these wonderful places to do the same and as with most things in life, its all about finding those silver linings.
So where was I... Oh yes, Spain. The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plains, at least that’s where it is supposed to fall but today it was falling squarely on the Orange house. I had climbed at the Wild Side at Sella for the last couple of days which is awesome but meant my skin was feeling a little thin. Two weeks of DWS did not do good things for my tips and even the thought of small holds was making me wince.
I had climbed fairly well and was pleased with the routes I had done and so felt that my last day should be something a little different. A few of us drove out to the Mascarat Gorge for another go at the big swing but today I was determined to make it really big, as big as possible in fact. I lowered as far as possible and marked the ropes at the correct point before scrambling back up the side of the gorge to the bridge. Without wasting any time, meaning I had no chance to back out I made my way to the take off point an clipped in. My heart was beating fast and thoughts of escape were at the front of my mind so I picked up my camera and started to record. I forced myself to tell the camera what I planned to do, knowing that once it was on film, I wouldn’t chicken out (its funny how your brain works). As I climbed with shaking legs onto the railing, I knew that everything was 100% safe but that didn’t stop me from imagining terrible things happening. Shouting out loud that I was going meant no turning back and I hurled myself off the top railing, entranced by the wavy slack rope stretched out in front of me.
A second later I was 50 meters below, speeding over boulders 3 meters off the floor. Leaning back in my harness, I smiled. After my friends had jumped, the heavens suddenly opened and down came some of the heaviest rain I have seen since Asia last year. We packed up the soggy gear and set off back to the car, which promptly steamed up, almost causing a few crashes on the way back.
Just to keep you updated, because I have nothing better to do, it is now 21:20 and my flight is now flashing RETRASADO! What fun...
I packed my bags but was very disappointed to find my man-kini was missing! My grand plan of wearing it home to surprise Emily came crashing down around me, what a terrible shame. Someone had obviously taken a bit of a shine to it and pocked it for themselves when I was not looking. The cheeky little rascals, how very dare they. Luckily or unluckily (which depends on your personal outlook), large ladies thongs are fairly prevalent nowadays, so I should not find too many problems in replacing it.
After relaxing for the last few hours, the time came to leave my friends and I grabbed a lift to the airport. I should be back in England at some point today or tomorrow and plans have already started for my return to Devon. To tell you the truth, I am very worried about going back on the route, knowing all too well what could happen and how I felt last time. But I have to try to keep these feelings and thoughts under control if I am to have any chance of completing the route. If I have learnt anything from today, it is that you can do things to change and control irrational fear and I think (hope) the same rules will apply to rational fear.
This route, which started off as a small idea in a mixed up mind, has grown into the biggest and most difficult challenge of my life. I have had to give, and will have to continue to give, more than ever before but if nothing else, this will make the final ascent even more satisfying. If people gave up when the going got tough the world would be a very different place.
What a change from one week to the next! Almost everything is different, the transport, the accommodation, the rock, the water, the people etc etc but there is one constant and that is having fun. It feels a little strange coming from a situation climbing with a group of really talented experienced climbers, where most of the hard projects have already been completed. To climbing in an area where there are still lots of unclimbed lines and you are only one of a few in the group who can climb them. I couldn’t really say if one was better or more enjoyable than the other, they are just different.
I have climbed for three days in the Costa Blanca so far. The first I ran around like a headless chicken, trying and climbing what may be new routes until I ran out of energy and crashed. Maybe I have got used to being able to stimulate my body and mind with Red Bull whenever I feel tired, but since the never ending supply has vanished, and I now have to pay through the nose, I no longer have the luxury. Since then I have tried to be a little more controlled and have relaxed a lot more. There is plenty to keep me entertained when I am not climbing, like wearing Man-kinis...
On one of the mornings, Rich Mayfield shouted “today is man-kini day” which I think was a very spur of the moment decision, but everyone got fully involved. Not wanting to be left out of the fun and games, I too trotted off to Carrefour in search of large ladies pants that would stretch over my shoulders. After a lot of procrastinating over which colour and style would best suit, I settled on a size 46, black thong. Very tasteful I thought.
Once we arrived at the destination for the day, it was time to “man-up” as Rich had taken to calling it. There were some interesting moments when learning where to put my various bits and pieces and the cameras were out to catch all the action. Fortunately my little man, who is actually quite camera shy, somehow managed to avoid the paparazzi and my bluest snapshots only involved a rouge testicle or two.
Once everyone had manned-up, it was man-kini time, and here are the results.
Suprisingly, I found my little black number to be very liberating and am beginning to understand the attraction that certain gentlemen seem to have for them. My only criticism, which I am sure would be rectified if I actually bought one the right size that was designed for men, is that it doesn’t half chafe my arse crack.
My man-kini has played a fairly big role in the rest of my week, even wearing it to throw myself off a very tall bridge. It will also be accompanying me tonight to the “Hugh Heffners Playboy Mansion” end of week party. I think I will fit in a treat with the rest of the bunnys.
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