Obituary Grooves

After Troutdale Pinnacle we were still pretty energetic so we went over to Brown Crag and had a go at a route there called Why Not. C got up it but found it really tough and I had no idea how to leave the ground on it. NB: must practice climbing cracks - they feel intimidatingly like something that Proper Climbers do but clearly that's something I want to become so I'd better begin to learn.
Anyway we ran out of water so we called it a day.

We decided to do Obituary Grooves on Sunday. C suggested it, and I agreed. In retrospect I'd have been better off on something of a middling grade, but the Why Not was supposed to be that and clearly wasn't, so the grade isn't terribly helpful.

On Sunday we arrived after a good breakfast and found the crag busy already. I was a bit wrong-footed that there were several people wanting to do the same route as us: I'd gambled that it was less well-known and so my struggles would be more out of people's way. Not so.

The first pitch certainly isn't the hardest but it was right on the edge of what I could do. I loved it but I knew I looked to the guy belaying below me to be on the wrong climb for my standard. I stopped caring about that, which was just as well, because no doubt I looked like that for the next few hours.

The challenge came on the second pitch. C found it pretty tricky and had to make quite a big effort on it. I didn't find that too intimidating because I had come looking for exactly that.

I remember setting off round a tree. It was hard but I found a way to do it. Just above and beyond the tree was a move where there really weren't any obvious footholds at usable level. I believe the normal thing there is to layback. It's a tricky version of it and I'm weak at them. After a few minutes I decided to turn my back to the rock, put my hands up just above my waist, brace my left foot against the rock, and push myself up that way. I tried again and again and again and again and again and again. I was sure I couldn't do it any other way. I didn't think about not getting up. At one point I swung right out and shouted "Oh Christ" and the people just below said, "Are you OK up there?" Round about then I stood on the holds below and rested my forehead against the rock. I thought to myself, this is very hard, and I'm going to do it. Nothing else - no great perceptions. When it did actually work, about the sixth time, I was so surprised I nearly lost my grip!

There were some easier moves for a while and then I came to the other big tricky bit of that pitch. I was right over the ropes of a team doing a route to our right which rattled me a bit. I misundertood where our route went because - bless me - I couldn't believe it was where it really was, I was sure the right line would be easier (ie would look possible) and must be higher up.

Eventually I sussed where the route went. It was a short traverse with very little for the feet, and the handholds (as I remember) were side-pulls. I should have crossed it briskly but I didn't. I lost momentum; I did get across but I lost height, and the move up from would have been hard for me even from a strong start. I didn't manage it cleanly, and got up by scrabbling and shouting "take" every few seconds, to have my every inch or so of gain kept for me. I suppose I was pulled up a bit too though I'm not sure.

The easy moves between the traverse and the belay didn't feel easy to me because I was very tired. The stance was cramped which disappointed me because I was too tired to realise at the start that I was ok to relax in such a precarious place. We watched the group to the right of us come up, the middle one having difficulty. Just above us he found things impossible and I think ended up catch C with a foot or something. C climbed back down to the belay (with difficulty) and decided we'd abseil down, all things considered.

I was very very scared. I thought I might be about to die. This was probably partly because I was tired, but also a misunderstanding of the thing about abseils: you just have to get it right. I feared the descent would be hard or impossible to control. I knew I had to just get on with it and the back of my mind trusted that it would be OK (it would have been possible, one way or another, to get up, and C had opted to go down through choice).

Anyway C set everything up with great care, and set off, and was fine. I could even see him, very small, at the bottom. It was about 150 feet below. By that stage I was slightly less scared but not much. In the moment as I began to lower myself - or rather try to lower, and realised how solid the rope felt and how in fact progress would be really slow, the fear went. I was told later at the wall that there's a way of using a prussik that would have made me descent more smoothly, but I think next time I wouldn't bother with one anyway.

Had a pretty nice moment emotionally at the top of pitch 2, too.

It's odd that I'd count this as my best experience climbing. I was totally out of my depth, I was in people's way, and we didn't reach the top. What made it so good? I went right up to my limit and persistently pushed at it, and prevailed. It's only writing it down now that I realise this was both in terms of the moves upwards, and the abseil down. I feel a massive sense of accomplishment.

The weekend's climbs were also very useful in clarifying what I'm good at and what I need to work at. I'm good at finding a way/ any way to do things. I'm not bad at dealing with exposure, and I'm not bad at keeping going (outdoors at least). I need to work on smearing, rocking over, rope-work, and arm/shoulder strength.

Having 2 days to climb was great. Doing one more feasible climb and then one more challenging one worked really well too. I think I'd opt to do it by train and local bus next time, but knowing the car was there waiting was a great luxury. If I had all the money in the world I'd go up by train to say Penrith and then hire one from there. But a carefully noted bus timetable would be nearly as good!