Rocking out

Last weekend I went climbing outside for my first time in the UK. Given that I had only climbed a couple of times out at Long Beach back home about 4 years ago, it might as well have been my first outdoor climb ever. It was terrifying, frustrating and exhilarating all at the same time. Inside I am a pretty fearless climber. I'll jump for anything, I don't care if I fall, I don't mind if I pop off and nothing really phases me. Outside it would seem is a whole different kettle of carabiners and I tend to cling to the cliff in a very accurate imitation of a limpet and don't trust my hands or feet one tenth as much as I do indoors. I have no idea why this is exactly- maybe it seems more 'real' outside, I don't know. All I know is that at the end of Day1 I was pretty disgruntled as I didn't feel I'd climbed well and was definitely vexed by finding myself scared, a feeling I am not at all used to. I have to say thought that my climbing buddy Graeme was a champion beyond belief and never lost patience with me and just found me something nice to climb on Day2, knowing that getting me up something was the main thing and he was infinitely encouraging and managed to do it all in a totally non-patronising way which is no small feat.

Apart from not feeling that I was on top climbing form, it was the best weekend I've had in a long time. We were climbing at Stanage and the views were stunning and it was great to be outside walking around and doing things which I haven't done it farfarfar too long, given that I've been cooped up in the big smoke for so long. I could yabber on about it forever but instead I'll let the pictures do the talking:

Me at the top of one of my first climbs.


This is the view from the top of one of the climbs. Heather moors. Mmmm, pretty....






Me belaying.


Me and Phil at the end of Day1.


Me looking sceptically upwards as the boys set up the rigging for our top rope.


This is the overhang I didn't make it up. I got to where Phil is in this pic and then had to let go. It was possibly one of the most terrifying moments of the weekend as it meant I pendulumed outwards. As I psyched myself to de-limpet from the rock, I realised that my life was quite literally hanging in the balance. The only things stopping me from swinging out into nothingness and down a rocky hill was the rope which was tied into my harness, which was running up and through a carabiner which was connected to another rope which was tied around a rock. Which is sweet fuck all really when you're that high up getting ready to let go of the rock.


And that's it for now. I'll try to upload the vid of Phil letting go so you can see the swing I had to do. Eeek.