| The late Dan Osman speed-soloing "Bear's Reach" on Lovers' Leap in California. It's a 5.7, which roughly equates to about a 4b in UK technical grade, but still.... it's a jawdropping feat of nerve - or utter stupidity, depending on how you look at it. I remember telling Mal Fraser about this video on our outdoor climbing course, and Mal's response was typically pragmatic: Mal: "Dan Osman...... hmm....American lad, is he?" Me: "He was, yeah" Mal: "Was? Well there you go then." Says it all really :) | |
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Dan Osman - 400ft speed solo climb
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
To Stanage
We've been absolutely run off our feet recently, and not had as much climbing time as we'd have liked, but Lise has been practically bouncing off the walls with barely-contained glee about her upcoming Mountaingirl Bouldering Techniques Workshop in (where else?) Stanage on Oct 14th. Looks like a great course, and the chance to learn from some of the best women climbers in the world is one not to be sniffed at. So I'll be travelling up with her and doing some regular climbing with the rest of the usual suspects while she's learning the tricks of the trade.
Depending on how brave I feel, I might have another go at the truly evil Right Twin Crack, which reduced both of us to gibbering defeated wrecks last time we attempted it.
Depending on how brave I feel, I might have another go at the truly evil Right Twin Crack, which reduced both of us to gibbering defeated wrecks last time we attempted it.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Edmund Hillary's 16mm Footage of First Everest ascent
I just got sent this link to a truly fantastic video on Google - Sir Edmund Hillary's 16mm footage of the first successful ascent of Everest. Sadly it doesn't include any footage of the final summit ascent - IIRC in Hillary's book I believe he says that they didn't take the 16mm camera on the summit bid as it was too heavy, but there's some fantastic footage from the days when mountaineers wore brylcreem and thick chunky sweaters, and contemplated tricky routes with a few knowing nods over a pipe. Great stuff.
Washout in Wales
Last weekend's sojourn to Wales for a weekend of multi-pitch climbing ended in a complete washout. The weather was unclimbably wet, windy and - well, Welsh all weekend, and we eventually admitted defeat, returning home a day early.
It got off to a bad start just south of Manchester, when we realised that we'd forgotten our sleeping bags. "Oh, we'll be alright" we thought, "we'll just buy a couple of travel blankets from a service station..." (shudder)
When we arrived at Dolgam campsite just after 9pm, it was cold, dark and raining. We set up the tent in record time and piled in for the night.
I don't think I've ever had such an uncomfortable night's sleep. The rain and wind got worse throughout the night, with the tent bowing in us frequently, and without the sleeping bags we could hardly stay asleep for more than five minutes at a time. I lost count of how many times I woke up and just wished desperately for morning.
Once dawn finally broke, and the farmer woke us up for his money, a quick look around the windswept and sodden campsite showed an array of people hastily packing their tents back into their cars and escpaing to a B&B - that is, providing their tents had actually survived the night. Some didn't - so we took one look at each other's faces, and made a quick, sharp exit ourselves.
As we drove up through Llanberis Pass, searching for a B&B, visibility was down to no more than twenty metres. When it did eventually ease off enough to venture outside, we tried a recce up to the Tolkein-esque landscape of Cwm Idwal, home to the famous climbing sites of Devil's Kitchen, Suicide Wall and our intended target, Idwal Slabs. But with the cloudbase seemingly just a few metres above us, and what felt like the whole of Llyn Idwal coming at us horizontally, we again had to admit defeat, and return to the Tyn-y-Coed to watch the England match, nurse a medicinal pint or two, and indulge in the best post-mountains recuperative meal on the planet, their legendary Shoulder of Lamb.
It got off to a bad start just south of Manchester, when we realised that we'd forgotten our sleeping bags. "Oh, we'll be alright" we thought, "we'll just buy a couple of travel blankets from a service station..." (shudder)
When we arrived at Dolgam campsite just after 9pm, it was cold, dark and raining. We set up the tent in record time and piled in for the night.
I don't think I've ever had such an uncomfortable night's sleep. The rain and wind got worse throughout the night, with the tent bowing in us frequently, and without the sleeping bags we could hardly stay asleep for more than five minutes at a time. I lost count of how many times I woke up and just wished desperately for morning.
Once dawn finally broke, and the farmer woke us up for his money, a quick look around the windswept and sodden campsite showed an array of people hastily packing their tents back into their cars and escpaing to a B&B - that is, providing their tents had actually survived the night. Some didn't - so we took one look at each other's faces, and made a quick, sharp exit ourselves.
As we drove up through Llanberis Pass, searching for a B&B, visibility was down to no more than twenty metres. When it did eventually ease off enough to venture outside, we tried a recce up to the Tolkein-esque landscape of Cwm Idwal, home to the famous climbing sites of Devil's Kitchen, Suicide Wall and our intended target, Idwal Slabs. But with the cloudbase seemingly just a few metres above us, and what felt like the whole of Llyn Idwal coming at us horizontally, we again had to admit defeat, and return to the Tyn-y-Coed to watch the England match, nurse a medicinal pint or two, and indulge in the best post-mountains recuperative meal on the planet, their legendary Shoulder of Lamb.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)