Weather was grim. Morale had finally slipped away after being in the wind and rain for the past few weeks. George set off up the first pitch, green and greasy. Jordan and I gloomily squalored on the ledge, pinned in by a huge cold flake. Like a couple of teenagers sharing a fag in a damp back alley. It felt like we were caving or in a mine. I detest that sport.
Trying my best to hold onto the last smudge of sanity I had before collapsing into a huff, Jordan was mumbling about the pub, which of course you could see from the crag. Tempted, I tried to focus on getting George up the route. He was oozing up slowly, time had stopped passing by long ago, and I felt trapped on the cragside, wanting to untie and run down for a pint and some hot food.
George had now stopped completely.
"I'm not feeling secure on this move lads. My feet, I don't have confidence in them to commit to this move." Time passed again, just about.
"I'm going to make a belay here."
Up we got, all together on the ledge, happy family. Merry band of climbers. I looked up to see the rack had been thrust into my face, I could feel its metallic coldness, sapping any heat I had left from my face. I guess I had to take us up.
We were on Abbey Buttress. It felt like the right option after our morning. Having nailed it up to Kern Knotts, only to discover a lovely, moist film of green on the east face, and general sogginess on the south face, all excited chatter about what routes we were to crush on the walk in had dissolved away into the murky, torrented sogginess of the hillside. Dave suggested we try Napes to see if conditions were better. He had ended up finding a fairly clean route next to Abbey Buttress, but was still bitter cold. That wind will get you, no matter what route you amble up. Fingers raw and toes in crushing pain.
I took the rack from George, psyche depleted and longing for just one day not having to wear a rain jacket as George had mused, and organised the gear, taking a breath, or more of a sigh really. Not knowing where we were on the climb, I knew that we still had at least four pitches to go, and around 100m of climbing. I was going to have to get stuck in, knowing that the sooner we charged up through this nasty mank, the sooner we could get to the pub for a morning pint. There's no chance these lads were hanging around for more routes. I certainly wasn't.
Up I went, faced with the first move that had stumped George's confidence. Having only met him recently, he struck me as a burly man who could conquer any piece of rock before him. Having a career in manipulating and man-handling huge stones, I felt that the mountains themselves even knew his name, a force to be reckoned with. It seems water and the subsequent greasy vegetation are his kryptonite. It was mine too, but a battle I had often won, and continue to fight. This is the wrong country to be living in if you are looking to only climb in dry weather. To be very fair, the step above me seemed quite the feat. That sequence of moves I saw before me did not seem on par with our aims. The backup plan being an escape to an easier, cleaner climb on the Napes didn't seem to match this. Off I ventured around the corner to find a way up.
I actually started to get into the climb then, managed to locate myself on the grander scheme of the route, the moves were matching up to the guidebook, the rock had started to get cleaner out of the initial pinnacles and ledges, and despite the rain starting at this stage, I was secure on my feet, thanks to the lack of grease higher up. I could even feel my fingers again, after desperately huffing on them every few steps, and painfully slapping them together. I quested out on the traverse, surveying the moves above, I could see how it achieved the three stars now. In and amongst the trashy gunk and sopping foliage, there lay a selection of beautiful holds, creating a masterpiece of moves. The gloom had begun to burn off from around my head, and the air seemed fresher, the crag seemed brighter and more colourful. This route was actually incredible.
“Kyle!” I looked back and popped my head down and around the corner. The gloom had started to reemerge around me.
“Will we fuck off?”
“Yea go on.”
And down I climbed.