The Charm and Challenge of Winter Climbing
I always prefer the concept of an impending winter to the actuality of it. I think fondly of those beautiful cold blue days, where the sun is warm but the air is crisp. It’s absolutely perfect for climbing where the cold firms the skin on your hands and the rock feels like it’s just been retextured. Sadly, winter these days seems largely just refreshing my weather apps and gazing solemnly at little pictures of rain clouds.
Every once in a while though, the stars align. Last week there were two bluebird days back-to-back. The first of which was a write-off for me due to prior commitments but the second was clear. I thought long and hard as to where to go, but in the end I changed the question slightly to ‘where would I like to be?’ with the additional clarity that question brought me, I decided I’d like to be by the sea. Whilst it was great to make that decision it did present me with a bit of an issue as I live in Leicester, one of the most landlocked areas of the UK. I decided on Ogmore in South Wales. It could only be described as ‘a hell of a punt’ for me but I decided to take the risk.
When I elect to do something a bit mad in pursuit of climbing, like driving 7 hours for a climb or getting up at 4AM so I could sneak out of a family holiday at Centre Parks and be back in time to take my son to the pool, the hardest partis telling my wife my intentions. She won’t stop me, but her reaction holds up a clear mirror so I can’t hide from my eccentricity (my words) or insanity(hers). Once that’s over I feel better, because my inner monologue is much more encouraging!
The drive wasn’t so bad, I called my brother, listened to music, and reveled in how warm the sun was through the windscreen, where I was insulated from the zero degree air temperatures. Once I pulled up at the car park, I jumped straight out of the car. One of my favourite things about climbing by myself is I don’t have to wait whilst people faff about getting themselves ready. I’m too impatient. I want to get to the boulder and get cracking straight away. I strapped two big pads, a blubber pad (used for covering boulder pads to reduce the risk of landing in the gaps) , my secret weapon (a battery powered leaf blower) and some towels together with a ratchet strap. With my little climber legs I always struggle to get the tower of foam up onto my back, and once up there I look utterly ridiculous. The weight of it all means I have to lean forwards and I dodder along the coastal path trying not to make eye contact with all the people wondering what the heck I’m doing. Thankfully the British reserve prevented any of them approaching me to enquire like the Americans always do in airports.
Prepping the Boulder: Tools, Tricks and Determination
The tide wasn’t totally ideal, and the water had only just receded far enough away for the boulder to be climbable. I love coastal bouldering but it has its own unique set of challenges. As the boulders are often underwater at high tide it gives you something else to worry about (many a coastal boulderer knows the sensation of attempting to swim out dragging boulder pads), but the flip side is it doesn’t matter if it rained all night and even into the morning as it was underwater anyway! It does mean that the boulders are often still drenched when you arrive however, and that day was no different. I got to work with my leaf blower, I very rarely actually use it because whilst it’s very effective, normally the noise it generates makes me feel too self-conscious. Thankfully the boulder I had come to try, an 8B/V13 called Hydro, is pretty secluded and the noise from the waves and the breeze is enough to soften any sounds I might be making. After a few minutes of leaf blowing my arms were getting tired so I took a break to bucket the water from the pool underneath the boulder, I then scrambled up on top and bailed the water out from the pools on top as well. The only thing left to do was to shovel the pebbles around to make a slightly flatter landing. I should really have removed more of the water, and I should really have moved more of the stones, but I am a ‘that’ll do’ sort of person and I just couldn’t wait any longer to feel the rock under my fingers. After another half an hour of toweling and blowing I’d got it into a climbable state. Wet rock is a funny thing, if in doubt avoid it like the plague because it can make the rock more brittle and nobody will thank you for breaking a classic climb. There is a big difference between porous and nonporous rock though, so you don’t normally have to be quite so careful down on the coast as you would on sandstone for example.
Reflecting on the Journey: Nature and Gratitude
As it was so cold I kept my coat on for my little warm up. I don’t tend to do too much in my warm up, my lack of patience over the years has helped me to adapt to operating without much of one. As I held the positions on the stand start, an 8A/V11 called The Fisherman I got the feeling that if I took my coat off and gave it a proper go I’d probably just do it and that would help to get my fingers ready for the full line. That proved correct and I climbed the stand without feeling like I’d had to try too hard. The cold air made the little crimps feel much better than they appeared I suppose. I sat on the top of the boulder for a while gazing out to sea. Sometimes, when I’m on my climbing adventures I can get so caught up with the actual climbing that I realise afterwards I didn’t appreciate the nature that I claim to enjoy so much, so I make an active effort these days to slow down and try to enjoy the feeling of being out in a little corner of nature, if just for a short while.
What’s Next? The Eternal Climber’s Question
I managed to keep the momentum going with a quick ascent of the sit start. Grades are a funny thing, V13s normally feel hard for me, and although I’ve done a fair few in a session, it’s certainly not unusual that I need a return trip to finish them off. On this occasion I didn’t feel like I had to battle or even try too hard, but the absolutely perfect conditions can have that effect. It’s possible the route had an inflated grade, but it’s also possible that I would have gone another day in warmer and more humid conditions and had a totally different experience, sometimes it’s better not to worry about it and just take the win for what it is. At the end of the day my love for rock climbing is inextricably linked to the places it takes me to. I’ve never been one to just go for a walk, I don’t even sit outside all that often if I’m honest with myself, I need to have some purpose to take me out of the house even if it’s an arbitrary one that I’ve invented for myself. For a few minutes I just enjoyed my success and the sun on my face, but inevitably my mind quickly reverted to asking the same old question ‘what’s next?’
