Rock up in North Wales with high hopes for a certain magic number, and what happens? First I can’t find a partner, and then it pees it down. Grrrrr. 

(There has to be a reason why it seems to rain so much on Bank Holiday weekends?)

The slugs are back. Spent the weekend geocaching in the Peak (nearly up to 800), had slugs *everywhere*. As I believe I may have mentioned before, I hate slugs. 

When I eventually get round to ruling the world, (once I’ve done the washing-up and had a shower), the slugs will die. 

All of them. 

Every last one. 

Especially the one that I stood on in the campsite toilet block. In bare feet.

Is it *ever* going to stop raining? Long weekend on Dartmoor, no climbing, got very very wet!

After spending most of the weekend squelching round the wetter bits of the Peak, I ended up at Curbar. Not climbing – there’s very little at Curbar at grades I can actually do – but yet more tub-hunting. Geocache #700 turned out to be hidden in a hollow rock hidden in the back of a crevice hidden halfway up Curbar Edge. On the plus side, having a rope and harness meant I could stop worrying about falling down the crag. Unfortunately, they also increased the probability of getting stuck *in* the crag.

I think I need to eat fewer pies.

Duncan was 50 earlier this year (and still doesn’t look it) and had a grand plan to celebrate by doing 50 routes in a day. To this end, he invited those of us lucky enough to know him to come along, help celebrate, take the piss and throw things.

I prepared for this by auditing the contents of my fridge, locating the source of the Smell, packing it in plastic and taking it along to be used not so much as a missile but as a shower. Unfortunately it escaped when I stopped halfway there for a pee and is presumably still terrorising people at Tibshelf Services, so I had to arm myself with a camera instead.

Duncan was going for it like a mad thing (what on earth *is* Michele feeding him on?) and the 50 routes (including an E1) were in the bag by early afternoon, so at that point I had to put the camera down and do some climbing myself. Teamed up with Chris and Phil and proceeded to get my arse kicked (as usual) seconding stuff a bit too hard.

I really need to work on the powerful moves – more training, fewer pies!Back to the campsite and we have . . . Slugzilla!I hate slugs. Really hate slugs. And there it was, swinging on the tent, heavy enough to produce a distinct sag in the flysheet and grinning at me in a “come on if you think you’re hard enough” sort of way. And it had friends. Everywhere. Aaaaarrgh!*Please* tell me this isn’t going to be another “year of the slug”?

Sunday. Birchen. Fast-drying, fortunately. Various examples of the Evil Birchen Start (that hold on Nelson’s slab is polished enough to shave in, I left a substantial chunk of one elbow somewhere in the initial thrutch on Powder Monkey Parade and ended up trying to get my foot level with my head on Trafalgar Wall), but, by contrast, had a nice little solo up The Gangplank which is one of those “feel-good” routes for bad head-games days.

Unfortunately, what this weekend seems to have pointed out is that I am (a) weak (b) inflexible (c) fat (d) weak and (e) a punter. I fear some training slightly more focussed than repeatedly falling off stuff at Creation may be required – I will have a little think about what, exactly, but training there will have to be.

(Total routes: 12, of which 1 solo.)

(Score so far:
Winter Routes (survived): 3
Sport Routes (seconded): 13
Sport Routes (led): 1
Trad Routes (seconded): 44.5
Trad Routes (led): 7.5
Trad routes (solo: 1)

Climbing with Dan from the club on Saturday, and Duncan, Mich and the Stoke folk on Sunday. Some interesting moments both days - Dan had a little moment on the crux of Long Tall Sally (can see why, not a nice move and just gets you into steeper and worse-protected territory), and Duncan ended up soloing an E1 by accident because he couldn’t find the crucial piece of gear.

Didn’t need to be winched up anything, but nice to get to second stuff harder than I usually lead!

(Score so far:
Winter Routes (survived): 3
Sport Routes (seconded): 5
Trad Routes (seconded): 19.5)
Trad Routes (led): 3.5)

It’s the third weekend, so it must be “informal meet” time. Which is why, of course, I rocked up at the hut to find virtually nobody there. Saturday morning dawned beautifully sunny, so I went for an amble up Moel Eilio and along the ridge to Moel Cynghorion, then back to the hut via a quiet, empty valley and a river crossing that felt very good indeed to hot feet.

Back at the hut, the hordes had arrived . . . ooh goody, climbing partners!

So, on Sunday, I ended up wandering up the Pass to do Rib and Slab with two newish-to-climbing bods. Gear? “We’ve got a new rack to christen, you can leave yours.”

Up the hill to the crag. Explain to partner #1 where the route goes and what to do by way of a belay (yes, it’s a route I’ve done before). Kick partner #1 off up the route. Stand there belaying in the sun and savouring the situation, the view, the nice weather, not being at work and all the other things that are good about being there. Partner #1 eventually finishes the pitch – fairly slowly, but leading’s something he’s still quite new to, and he’s having trouble getting gear in. No worries, we’ve all been there.

Partner #2 will second on one rope, I will second on the other one. One at a time, to simplify things for partner #1. Partner #2 sets off. Stretch, eat cereal bar, admire view. Make encouraging noises at partner #2, who is climbing with all the speed of an elderly snail with a very heavy shell. No worries, admire the view some more and make more encouraging noises. For me it’s a great view, for rather “townie” partner #2 I would suspect it comes across as scary exposure.

Partner #2 finally tops out, second (or possibly third) the pitch and find the belay way off to one side and rather higher than the usual place between the top of pitch one and the bottom of pitch two. Mentally curse and explain to partner #1 why he may not find this too helpful when he leads the remaining pitch.

Except that he doesn’t want to lead the remaining pitch. Neither does partner #2.

“Ok, give us the rack then, I’ll do it.”

He hands me half a set of nuts.

“Ta. Quickdraws? Slings?”

He hands them over.

“Rest of the nuts?”

“Rest of what nuts?”

Eeek! Give the nuts he handed me earlier a quick look and they are, in fact, a full set. Except that they’re a brand that attempts to go from tiny micronuts to huge great chunks in one set and hence, out of the whole set, there’s maybe two nuts in sizes likely to be of any use.

So we have: A very minimalist rack. A belay positioned for a potentially huge pendulum into some rather hard rock. Two partners who don’t look very happy.

Fortunately the top pitch is as straightforward as they come.

I timed the whole route – bottom to bottom – at five and a half hours. Fairly impressive (if you see what I mean) for two pitches and some slippery grass we stayed roped-up for at the top.

Stuff learned – when someone who is new to climbing says they have gear, check exactly *what* they’ve got. Never under-estimate the effect of an unfamiliar environment on people’s performance.

(Score so far:
Winter Routes (survived): 3
Sport Routes (seconded): 5
Trad Routes (seconded): 6.5)
Trad Routes (led): 3.5)

Outdoor show 2009. Trying to convince Mr & Mrs Caravan in matching Regatta fleeces that a new type of climbing wall is a good idea. Rather frustrating. Still, it’s over now and I can spend my weekends charging around on the hills again instead of trying to construct bits of wall.

Despite being blatantly doomed from the start - trying to persuade non-climbers about climbing walls and people with no kids about children’s sleep systems is a bit of a non-starter - it was actually fun in a weird sort of way. Didn’t get as many nutters as last year, but did get the Dragon’s Den people who seemed a bit surprised that we weren’t all massively eager to be on the telly. (Don’t think they liked it when I replied “I don’t have a telly, what’s dragon’s den?” ::o)

I’m going to write the design stuff up properly and stick it on t’interweb. But I’m going to play in the hills first. So ner.

Anyone sufficiently bored to have read all of this ceaseless mound of electronic drivel may remember this one:

http://blog.rockfax.com/love-and-hate/2008/02/28/harder-work-than-work/

Alpkit did indeed run a reprise of the competition, I was stupid enough to enter again and this year I am in the final. Twice.

I now have less than a month to build two good-quality exhibits to take to the NEC.

This blog may be rather short of outdoor-related stuff for a while - spare time isn’t going to happen until after the show. But if you need me, I’ll be the one sitting in the middle of a huge pile of wood and resin gibbering gently and fondling my power tools.

Last day of the meet, people absolutely raring to go, still nothing in climbable condition. Eventually decide to do some unpronouncable Corbett. Slog up onto the ridge . . . and here comes the snow!

So we ambled along the ridge up to the top in intermittent snow showers. Much hilarity when Mike and Lesley seemed to have stopped for some reason and weren’t catching us up . . . and then when they *did* catch us up the first words were “What, you’ve never seen someone using a shewee before?” Topped out to some rather decorative snow and an intermittent (very good) view.

There will be photos*.

And now, of course, just when we all have to go home, the snow starts again and there’s alf a chance of things coming back into nick. Sod’s Law.

 (*Of the view. Not Lesley having a pee.)