The Eye of the Storm
I'm in North Wales, again. It seems all of my most recent posts have been about North Wales in one way or another! This time it is August 2017 and we are in Anglesey on a family holiday with T's sister Liz, her hubby Rob and their two kids.
Over the week of the holiday I'd watched my dreams of getting a pass for a long mountain day, or an afternoon for some cragging on Holyhead mountain evaporate under the relentless reality of life with two young families. So here we were at the Anglesey show, perfect blue skies and a backdrop of mountains and we have paid a considerable sum of money to be herded into the showgrounds where we have the pleasure of spending more of our money in all sorts of inventive ways. Still I'm not a complete curmudgeon and I knew that getting grumpy about this would not help, so the best thing to do would be to put a brave face on it and look for pleasure and what do you know? We did have fun. I don't remember exactly what now but seem to recall tractors, sweet shops, an insane fairgound ride that T gamely went on with her niece, lots of farmers rattling away in Welsh and livestock. Lots of livestock.
As the day drew to a close some sort of signal was passed between the sisters and Rob the Greater (from this blog where he joined me for some climbing on my birthday in 2010) and I were told that if we so chose we could head off to do a spot of climbing. You'll not be suprised to know I had something in mind so we hastily repacked cars, cramming four kids and the two sisters into one while Rob and I put the climbing gear into the other and headed for the the coast.
The shackles of 'real life' dropped away as we got into the car without the customary requests/shouts/pleas for everyone to get in and buckle in and stop arguing, did a shifty u-turn to lose the queue of traffic coming out of the show and blasted off onto the OS map in my sweaty palm, heading for a place called Rhoscolyn. The route I had in mind is called 'Symphony Crack' and is an easy pitch up a hanging corner poised dramatically above the sea. I knew this route was technically easy but I was very conscious that I would be climbing on a sea-cliff, with the attendant hazards of lots of cold wet water, with a novice. I think Rob mostly just gets dragged out climbing by me so I was definitely the responsible adult in the party and felt the nerves on the drive over. Would we find the climb, would it be as easy as I thought, what if we got stuck on the crag in darkness, what if someone fell in the drink? What if someone had a heart-attack and then fell in the drink...and so on and so on...it seems that no matter what the climb that I always get the pre-climb jitters, but I guess this is a good thing as it means I think through the possible risks and pitfalls and plan around them, rather than just ignoring them and then getting caught out.
Anglesey is not a very big place and we soon found the parking spot by a lovely little chapel, got out of the car, did a frantic bit of kit admin and then headed off to the crag. The weather was still great, a warm summer evening, a bit breezy now we were by the sea but very nice. We found the path to the coast and then followed it round to the crags, past the old coastguard lookout and on a little further. I think part of my anxiety was that I've got so used to climbing with Dave (Legend of the Mountains), who has been everywhere, that little details like finding the right crag don't normally come up. So it was nice to find the right place with no faff, especially as time was tight. We dumped our bags, geared up and headed onwards downwards scrambling down to a little platform just above the sea. I was feeling better and better we'd found the right time and the right place and I was going climbing! The myriad worries of everyday family life dropped away into a familiar and tangible problems of gear placements and rope management. With everything ready I headed off, traversing a couple of metres above the swell into the undercut corner. Nothing else now mattered beyond the rock beneath my fingers and toes. My consciousness was still, alert, focused. This is why we do this.
I gained the corner, put some bomber gear in and then launched up on lovely incut holds. Great climbing - easy but not too easy, sun on the waves and my back, then pop - I'm at the top. All done. Why had I worried? I belayed Rob up in the usual post-coital haze drinking in the views and the serenity.
A quick hike back to the car then off we go back to the routine, but as another partner is so fond of saying "That blew the bumfluff out". My store of serenity had been replenished and I was ready for family life again.
That's not quite the end of the climbing story for that holiday. On the last day of the holiday everyone else had headed home straight after breakfast. We took our time, with a last leisurely play at the beach and then a meal at the Moel Siabod cafe. Our route took us through the Llanberis Pass and we stopped off at the RAC boulders where the boys and I did some bouldering and T had a quick nap in the car. As usual bouldering with the kids was more a question of anxiously mother henning them, "No Toby! Don't climb that! Wait for me to come to you! STAY THERE!", but I did get a couple of little routes ticked.
The thing I will remember though is Henry flying up a route and loving it. As we headed back down to the car the rain arrived, sweeping us out of Wales and back to normal life. Here is Henry with Toby gazing up (adoringly?), I love their uniform of matching blue jackets, hoodies and swimmers!
Over the week of the holiday I'd watched my dreams of getting a pass for a long mountain day, or an afternoon for some cragging on Holyhead mountain evaporate under the relentless reality of life with two young families. So here we were at the Anglesey show, perfect blue skies and a backdrop of mountains and we have paid a considerable sum of money to be herded into the showgrounds where we have the pleasure of spending more of our money in all sorts of inventive ways. Still I'm not a complete curmudgeon and I knew that getting grumpy about this would not help, so the best thing to do would be to put a brave face on it and look for pleasure and what do you know? We did have fun. I don't remember exactly what now but seem to recall tractors, sweet shops, an insane fairgound ride that T gamely went on with her niece, lots of farmers rattling away in Welsh and livestock. Lots of livestock.
As the day drew to a close some sort of signal was passed between the sisters and Rob the Greater (from this blog where he joined me for some climbing on my birthday in 2010) and I were told that if we so chose we could head off to do a spot of climbing. You'll not be suprised to know I had something in mind so we hastily repacked cars, cramming four kids and the two sisters into one while Rob and I put the climbing gear into the other and headed for the the coast.
The shackles of 'real life' dropped away as we got into the car without the customary requests/shouts/pleas for everyone to get in and buckle in and stop arguing, did a shifty u-turn to lose the queue of traffic coming out of the show and blasted off onto the OS map in my sweaty palm, heading for a place called Rhoscolyn. The route I had in mind is called 'Symphony Crack' and is an easy pitch up a hanging corner poised dramatically above the sea. I knew this route was technically easy but I was very conscious that I would be climbing on a sea-cliff, with the attendant hazards of lots of cold wet water, with a novice. I think Rob mostly just gets dragged out climbing by me so I was definitely the responsible adult in the party and felt the nerves on the drive over. Would we find the climb, would it be as easy as I thought, what if we got stuck on the crag in darkness, what if someone fell in the drink? What if someone had a heart-attack and then fell in the drink...and so on and so on...it seems that no matter what the climb that I always get the pre-climb jitters, but I guess this is a good thing as it means I think through the possible risks and pitfalls and plan around them, rather than just ignoring them and then getting caught out.
Anglesey is not a very big place and we soon found the parking spot by a lovely little chapel, got out of the car, did a frantic bit of kit admin and then headed off to the crag. The weather was still great, a warm summer evening, a bit breezy now we were by the sea but very nice. We found the path to the coast and then followed it round to the crags, past the old coastguard lookout and on a little further. I think part of my anxiety was that I've got so used to climbing with Dave (Legend of the Mountains), who has been everywhere, that little details like finding the right crag don't normally come up. So it was nice to find the right place with no faff, especially as time was tight. We dumped our bags, geared up and headed onwards downwards scrambling down to a little platform just above the sea. I was feeling better and better we'd found the right time and the right place and I was going climbing! The myriad worries of everyday family life dropped away into a familiar and tangible problems of gear placements and rope management. With everything ready I headed off, traversing a couple of metres above the swell into the undercut corner. Nothing else now mattered beyond the rock beneath my fingers and toes. My consciousness was still, alert, focused. This is why we do this.
I gained the corner, put some bomber gear in and then launched up on lovely incut holds. Great climbing - easy but not too easy, sun on the waves and my back, then pop - I'm at the top. All done. Why had I worried? I belayed Rob up in the usual post-coital haze drinking in the views and the serenity.
A quick hike back to the car then off we go back to the routine, but as another partner is so fond of saying "That blew the bumfluff out". My store of serenity had been replenished and I was ready for family life again.
That's not quite the end of the climbing story for that holiday. On the last day of the holiday everyone else had headed home straight after breakfast. We took our time, with a last leisurely play at the beach and then a meal at the Moel Siabod cafe. Our route took us through the Llanberis Pass and we stopped off at the RAC boulders where the boys and I did some bouldering and T had a quick nap in the car. As usual bouldering with the kids was more a question of anxiously mother henning them, "No Toby! Don't climb that! Wait for me to come to you! STAY THERE!", but I did get a couple of little routes ticked.
The thing I will remember though is Henry flying up a route and loving it. As we headed back down to the car the rain arrived, sweeping us out of Wales and back to normal life. Here is Henry with Toby gazing up (adoringly?), I love their uniform of matching blue jackets, hoodies and swimmers!