Classic Rock - a 30 year adventure

A wet Dewerstone 7am - “Phil, it looks like rain” From waking up to striding with rucksacks on took about 3 minutes. Despite the forecast the night before predicting a dry morning, it had a distinctly damp feel in the air and there was moisture on the car. Somehow, between the guidebook and map in the car park, what should have been a simple 10 minute walk-in had been confusingly interpreted into a 40 minute hill walk. We geared up quickly and touched the bottom of the rock just in time for a downpour. Rain was now forecast to set in for the day, so we reluctantly backed off, grateful that getting lost on the way to the route had probably saved us from being caught in the rain halfway up it. Dewerstone would have to wait. Avon Gorge, however, was bathed in sunshine and just 10 minutes off our route up the M5 home, so despite disappointment we still had chance to tick off 5 out of 6 that we set off to climb. Delicate work on pitch 1 Piton Route Piton Route - VS 4c I kind of forgot that

Bosigran (Commando) Ridge With eyes closed there wasn’t a huge difference; a regular rise and fall in the volume of the whooshing sound as one after the other, they never stopped passing. And so I tried to kid myself that it was the same; the sun on our faces, a gentle breeze and a steep, quality classic route disappearing beneath our feet.  But with eyes open, a world apart; the white noise caused by the relentless battering of Bosigran rocks by crashing Atlantic swell only added to the overall atmosphere and adventure, whereas the relentless line of traffic entering Bristol on the A4 through Avon Gorge certainly didn’t.  Neither of us had been to Bosigran before and after a day there we agreed it was a top-class venue in every way. An enormous amphitheatre of perfect crags surrounding a cove staging a continual performance of ocean drama. Gannets diving, white horses racing and the odd seal nosing around meant there was ample entertainment just to sit and watch, so even snack-breaks

Terrier’s Tooth - HS 4b John looking nervously out to sea - he's right to Half way up the “new” first pitch of Terrier’s Tooth, I was finally making progress after a period of uncertainty over exactly where the established route was these days, since the rock fall of 2014 took away the lower section.  With a choppy sea lashing spray all over the place we’d nervously abseiled and traversed the rocky shelf to the base, confident in the knowledge that it was practically low tide and no waves were washing properly over.  But nature has it’s own way; hearing an unsettling whumpf, deeper and louder than the background wave noise we’d become accustomed too, I turned to glance down. John should have been there but all I could see was a wall of spray with ropes rising from within. “No!” was all I could involuntarily utter as I winced and waited to see the outcome. Not sure what to expect I gripped the sidepull tight and watched as he reappeared from his white water wash.  Understated in his

We’ve been here before. Put a date in the diary a couple of months ago for a climbing trip in the mountains, then with 2 days to go, find the forecast looks wet or unsettled. And so it was this time, a planned 3 days in the Lakes having big days out on classic rock routes dashed by a change in weather after 6 weeks of drought! Same story in Wales. Mrs L wasn’t interested in hearing our climbing plans sob-story again. “What about Cornwall?” “In the summer holidays? Traffic, 6 hour drive, hard to car camp in laybys. And it’s just cragging by the sea isn’t it.”  As we set off to Sennen, it felt like we were settling for a second rate trip compared to the mountain atmosphere we normally thrive in. We were very wrong. It is a long way from Leicestershire. It is harder to car-camp. Yet despite it’s shorter stature, even Sennen is anything but simply cragging by the sea. Waking up to a view of the Atlantic at the very end of England was a joy (if not so much being disturbed by a tractor movin