Abrasion

When the weather forecasts all say 'Freezing level well above summits' for several days, there are a few ways a climber can deal with the sense of impending doom. You can go and walk around in the slush on the hills, shaking your fist at the godless sky screaming 'WHY?!?!', then drink yourself into a coma until springtime. Or you can go to Englandshire and climb on some nice, sunny rocks.

And so this weekend I found myself down in Yorkshire with the EUMC, who are a rather splendid group of people even despite being students. Our aim was to go and play on the infamous Yorkshire Gritstone, which has a reputation for being steep, abrasive and just plain hard. It is all of these things, but it's also gooood.

Yesterday's efforts were concentrated at Cow & Calf rocks near Ilkley, which offer some splendid quarried grit a mere two minutes walk from the nearest ice cream outlet. Having been doing lots of indoor climbing recently I was hoping to display at least some proficiency on the rock, but no amount of plastic-pulling in multicolour dungeons can prepare you for the perplexing and brutal nature of the climbing there. The route are all quite short, but boy do they make you work. I hopped on a mega classic route straight away and got well and truly violated by it. Usually failing on a route (resting on the rope counts as cheating) feels like a big let-down, but the climbing was far too fun for me to care, and I feel like I learned something from it. Although I'm still not sure what.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of udging, jamming and sweating and I was relieved to see most of the others in the group receiving a good old beating. The short nature of the climbing coupled with copious protection means the routes aren't too serious, so even repeated failure couldn't dim everyone's good spirits. We carried this into the evening which we spent in the company of some of Otleys greatest musical luminaries. I'm not sure how often wee pubs in Otley experience crowd surfing, but the band seemed to enjoy having some Yummick appreciation.

Sunday's venue was a spectacularly sunny Almscliffe, another notoriously brutal arena. I managed to avoid anything too strenuous by virtue of meeting most of the people I know in Yorkshire at the crag. Even my mum made an appearance, and confronted her fear of heights by making her way to the top of the High Man - well done mum!

Spending a day in the sunshine at Almscliffe is a splendid way to while away a Sunday, aqnd there's plenty of bouldering and more amenable routes to go at if you want to avoid a spanking. Nevertheless, my hands appear to have been abraded to stumps and my knees are sporting some impressive bruises (a sure sign of good technique).

What a splendid weekend!