A MacLeod near miss

The west highlands almost lost two of it’s MacLeod’s to the A86 on Saturday morning after Claire wrapped her nice Audi around a tree. I was sitting in the passenger seat and believe it or not I was happy it was a direct head on hit on the tree, because if not it would have been over a retaining wall with a probably terminal drop on the other side.

A very wet road, a little too much speed for the bend, and a little touch of the brakes on the cusp of the bend were the combination of causes. The back of the car slid, followed by wild veering and steering, and the next thing we saw in the windscreen was a large tree.

We had a split second to either tense or relax in preparation for the big smash.

It felt a little surreal stepping out of a completely re-shaped car, with only a sore neck and the odd scuff between us. The split second after the impact of turning to Claire to see if she was still with me was not something I’ll forget in a hurry. Thankfully she was looking back at me and immediately agreeable to getting out of the car.

Apologies to my climbing masterclass students who had a bit of a wait for me to arrive and a slightly frazzled coach once I finally did.

Kudos to Mr Gardner for being on the money that there are often more pressing things worth worrying about than falling off rock climbs, terrorists and nasty flu viruses.

Every day, a little more ‘A Muerte’

Climbing A Muerte 9a, Siurana. All photos: Hot Aches Productions

So Dave Graham said. Here’s to that. The Spanish phrase ‘a muerte’ translates as ‘to the death’. So where the Scots shout ‘Gaun big man!’ at people wobbling on routes, in England it’s ‘ave itttttt-ah’, in France it’s ‘allezallezallezallez!’ (If you haven’t experienced this, it’s a little off putting) and in Spain they shout ‘Benga! A muerte!’ Basically it means go for it. Graham’s attitude of going for it a little more every day is kind of infectious.

Back in March I spent some days trying the famous 9a ‘A Muerte’. It had already been given the name before Richard Simpson muscled his way up the first ascent a couple of years ago. After I did the neighbouring L’odi Social 8c+ earlier this year, Richard emailed me to suggest I try a ‘real’ hard route, like his one. So I did.

Since I am not so strong, I made a three-and-a-half- week space in my diary to travel back to Siurana and get a good spell trying the climb. Unfortunately, attempts to clear all my necessary work before I left meant I had almost two weeks of detraining before I left.

I had dismissed the standard sequence for the crux as being two ‘body strength’ dependent for my frame, slapping at nearly full span for two finger pockets out to each side. Bad tactics, MacLeod. After wasting nearly two weeks trying a crazy alternative sequence matching a finger slicing sharp pocket and waiting for my torn fingers to heal, I reverted. Once I gave the standard sequence a chance (like for 10 minutes!), I found it was actually quite easy (for a 9a crux you understand). Immediately I could redpoint to the last move.

The daily routine was to warm up with a 7c-8a, climb to the 5th bolt on A Muerte (an 8b link) and reverse to the ground. Then, wait…

Once the bitter evening winds blew and the sun dropped low, I blasted onto my redpoint - 20 moves in 30 seconds of bang, bang, bang from hold to hold before my strength gave out in spitting distance of the finishing jug.

All that was needed was another moves’ worth of juice in my arms to make it happen. Two days complete rest while working in Torello was just the ticket, and on our return I arrived back at the rockover and had the strength leftover to grab that big undercut and scream from the top of my lungs “COME ONNNNNN!!!”

It was kind of nerve wracking to hang on that undercut and shake out, just a formality 8a crux to go… or would it be? I passed Diff, hanging beside me filming. Him silent and motionless, me panting and shaking – strange. So, the first step of my preparation for Echo Wall is complete.

On my last day, after Patxi had dispatched Le Rambla 9a+ 3rd go (my head shakes in disbelief), I did the moves on La Rambla. Hmmmm…

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Fading energy yesterday on Afrodita. But I found a new hold on the crux and linked one move higher than before despite nearly falling asleep before my last burn of the day. So progress has been made. I enjoyed watching Keith fight for a long time with a nasty finishing move on a lovely long 7a+. He stuck it out and made it to the chain. Entertaining viewing.

Resting today. How is it possible to spend nearly a whole day making tea and going to the hypermarket? Now I must get a couple of hours work in. Tomorrow it’s back on the small pockets of Campi qui puigi.

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Enjoying shade and cool on Un Rato de Cada Postura 8a, Siurana. Photo: Emma Sutton

Another day on the testing wall of Campi qui Puigi in Siurana. First off I climbed a lovely 8a, Un Rato de Cada Postura. I made a tiny, miniscule amount of progress on a hard route for me, finding some beta that might work for short and weak Scotsmen who can’t pull hard on pockets. We’ll see if it helps next week when my skin is better.

Today I was back on Afrodita, a massive 8c+ I had a day on last year. It was nice to feel stronger on the moves than one year ago and on my second try I could climb it with two hangs. Tomorrow I will try to make that one hang??

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Redpointing ‘Luxury’ 8b+, Cova boix, Margalef. Photo: Emma Sutton

Yesterday we travelled over to the lovely valleys of Margalef to climb on the conglomerate waves. Emma, Caroline and Keith climbed route after route in full sun. Impressive. I ate bread and hid behind shady trees. But later we nipped across to the dark side of the valley and a lovely overhanging crag where I was able to climb a stunning 8b+ in the evening. I was a little frustrated to miss the ‘1st redpoint’ by missing a hold right at the top. But three tries is still good for me and it was a good feeling to get pumped and fight hard. I am on the first rung of the return to fitness ladder, or maybe it was just that the campsite shower was hot for the first time in some days.

Siurana Ambience

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It’s the morning after I arrived in Spain. I’d love to have something positive to say, but I reckon it’s the worst I’ve ever felt at the start of a climbing trip. Sleep deficit has well and truly caught up with me. Yesterday I tried to climb by myself on a shunt while the others visited a different sector, but fell asleep putting on my rockshoes and woke up 2 hours later. Today I’m feeling more human after a decent night, but it’s going to take some time to get in better shape for climbing. Thankfully, time is something I do have.