In the snow without a camera.........again.

We've shaken off the lethargy of Christmas, and I've found new motivation for getting out there......I want to do an alpine climbing course in Switzerland in September, and I will need to be really fit. Not as in a bit of walking two weeks before type fit, as in start-right-the-hell-now or be left behind.

So to this end, and also because really I'd not rather be doing anything else, Mark and I headed up the mighty Slieve Donard last Monday. Donard is only about 860m above sea level, but seeing as how you start from a carpark opposite the beach in Newcastle, you have to work for every one of those metres. On the last part up to the col between Donard and Commedagh, the path was badly iced up, so much so that we had to find an alternative route up some dodgy heather next to a frozen watercourse. Because we didn't fancy going down the same way, which would have been a treacherous undertaking, we walked up to the top of Slieve Commedagh instead. Because this is a popular part of the Mournes, and because despite the cold it was a beautiful, clear, windless day, we met many other groups of hill-walkers. In Ireland, because the weather is always such a topical issue, the standard thing to do when casually greeting someone you've never seen before and will probably never see again, but feel you have to say something because you are after all out doing the same thing, is to make some remark about the weather, or, if the other person speaks first, to agree with what they have said about the weather.

The top of Commedagh, a few meters lower than Donard, was plastered with snow. We returned to Donard forest and the car-park via Commedagh's north ridge, a more sensible proposition than the iced-up path above the head of the Glen River valley, pausing to agree with random strangers about the weather several times along the way. One thing we could certainly all agree on was that a clear winter's day is some of the best weather you can get, no matter where in the world you are.

Yesterday (Saturday) we opted for the Cooley ridge walk, from Slieve Foye above Carlingford, to the telecoms masts on Black Mountain and down to Ravensdale forest. These are my "home mountains"; I have done the walk before, but as two separate walks on different occasions. Doing it in one is quite a walk - it took us six hours, moving at a fair pace, and we didn't stop anywhere for more than a few minutes at a time. Nadia dropped us on the south side of Foye, and we followed a route straight up the south side, to the right of the lamp post in the photo (yes, I forgot the camera again and that photo was taken this morning from my bedroom window). We then followed the ridge from the high point (the summit of Slieve Foye) left along the ridge, then the heart-breaking loss of height down to the Windy Gap, and you gain most of it back again on the opposite ridge.

The Cooleys are a bit lower than the Mournes, but there's still plenty of snow, and the road that you follow from the masts down to Ravensdale was completely iced over.

Two routes on the Bearnagh Slabs

"Crooked Chimney" on the Bearnagh Slabs was one of the first routes I climbed in the Mournes, with Mark Anderson back in 2006. Then in April 2007, nine months after my fall on Hen Mountain, Mark Warnock led me up "Grand Central", one of the classic VD grade climbs. It was the first climb after my accident, and I remember really struggling with a very stiff right wrist that has still not quite recovered. The one part of the climb that I remember vividly is the chimney ending right at the top. It's really awkward, and I remember throwing my right hand into a fist-jam and thinking "well at least it can't really come out!"

Last Saturday Mark and I returned to the Bearnagh Slabs, and this time I led up Grand Central, allowing Mark the luxury of seconding it for the first time in seven ascents over the last twelve years. The chimney will be a doddle this time, I thought. Hah! It was a battle again, and when I finally heaved myself onto flat ground at the top I felt as though I'd just been extruded from a meat grinder. At least Mark had the decency to struggle as well (he usually takes the layback alternative to the left of the chimney, probably a more sensible proposition). I had placed a cam for protection that was slightly too big for the crack it was in; as a result I was worried that it might get stuck. When it was Mark's turn to follow me I heard a lot of metallic tinkering sounds interspersed with the occasional Northern Irish grunt. "Is the cam stuck!", I shouted. "No, I've got it, I'm stuck in this chimney though!"

I took this photo of him emerging from the chimney.


After a bite to eat, we climbed Hypothesis, which, along with White Walls on Spellack and Pillar Variant on Lower Cove, is one of the finest routes of its grade in the Mournes. In fact, because it's longer than the other two, I would say it's the best. It's one of those climbs that you just wish was a few pitches longer.



Now, serious climbing photographers are always very scathing of "bumshots" ie photos taken of climbers from below that show that part of the anatomy usually aimed at the camera. But when you're belaying someone leading a climb you tend to snap what you can get. I haven't met a leader yet who'll complain about his second taking a bad photo because he was minding the rope!
But as bumshots go, I don't think this one is too bad.


This is the view looking from the Bearnagh Slabs down past the eastern flank of Slieve Meelmore to the Trassey track, which is the traditional approach to the slabs.

FM - Lamagan Slabs

We are enjoying an Indian summer at present, just as we did this time last year and the year before. On Saturday 12 September, Mark and I set a date with "FM", a long easy route on the slabs on the east side of Slieve Lamagan. Mark texted me early in the morning to say he was not well, but because I was all ready to go, I decided to go anyway, taking a half-rope with me in addition to my gear rack. My intention was to have a look at FM to see if I felt confident enough to free solo or maybe rope-solo it.


It was another glorious day, and the view above, looking up the Annalong Valley, is one I've photographed many times, but seldom with completely clear skies.


The photo above is of Slieve Lamagan, with the slabs facing the camera directly. FM follows a crack line more or less straight up the middle, past the white spot. I doubt I would have soloed it, because this route is one of those that always looks wet; it has a lot of dark lichen on the rock that looks like wet streaks. I was aware of this, but not having climbed it before, I didn't want to come across a wet slab at some point where I couldn't easily retreat. I was standing near the base of it weighing all this up when I heard the familiar tinkling of climbing equipment, and saw three climbers about to overtake me on the slope. After a brief discussion over whether the rock was wet or not, I explained to them that I had been going to climb it that day but my climbing partner was sick. Once they established that I had equipment with me, I was asked to join them, and I readily agreed. We split into two teams of two, Martin leading Maura, and me leading Margaret behind them (it's only just occurred to me that all our names start with "M"). They had a full rope and one half-rope, so it worked out perfectly, Martin led on the full rope and I used the two half-ropes.




I really enjoyed the climb and the company of these folk from Dublin. This is one of the things I love about climbing, that you can meet perfect strangers but if you all climb you always seem to have a lot in common, and not just the lingo of climbing itself. Oh and the rock was bone-dry the whole way.

White Walls, Spellack.

Yesterday, Saturday 22 August, was a lovely bright day and the perfect temperature for climbing; not too hot or cold. Mark and I headed up to Spellack Buttress, off the Trassey track, and climbed White Walls (S 4a). I took this photo from the Newcastle - Hilltown Road, as such a clear day in the Mournes is rather rare.


You can see the rock slabs of Spellack more or less in the middle of the photo, the sun lighting them up a bit, and Slive Meelmore up to the right, Slieve Bearnagh behind them to the left.

The Meelmore Lodge was having a fun day for kids, with loud music blaring up the whole valley. It was rather bizarre, being in this beautiful, wild setting, with cheesy inspirational songs such as "Eye of the Tiger" and "We are the Champions" clamouring for our attention. We could hear all the commentary too; knew exactly who had won the sack race, for example.

This is the gulley you scramble up to the start of the route:


And the climb itself; Mark led it and we both struggled. I'm not sure why, Mark has climbed it several times before. It just felt hard for a 4a, with delicate footwork needed pretty much the whole way up. I think we're both just rusty, not enough climbing this year.





In this photo you can see Hare's Gap behind my left shoulder, and the peaks in the background are Commedagh (left), Beg (centre) and Cove (right).


A super day with a nice breeze to keep the midges at bay!

Mud and Midges

In April last year we visited Lough Belshade for the first time. It's a gem of a crag hidden away in the Bluestack mountains in Donegal. On that occasion we climbed "Classical Revival", a 3-star HVS, well worth the muddy 2-hour walk-in. I remember sending an email afterwards, with photos, to some of my climbing friends, echoing the sentiments of someone who had posted about the area on the UKC forums: "visit this crag before you die".

Well I should have known that as with most things in life the second time is seldom as good. Yesterday we endured the boggy 2-hour walk, and when we arrived, our objective, the 4-pitch "Land of Hearts Desire" looked suspiciously wet. As we were standing looking at it, trying to work out whether it really was wet rock or not, it started raining. Mark commented, in his usual understated manner: "It's not going to get any drier in that."

The routes on the smaller Blaeberry crag to the right looked dry, but weren't going to stay that way either, and the midges were out too.

So I'm going to amend, slightly, my enthusiasm for Lough Belshade. You must visit, of course; you may enjoy an ascent of a very fine route, on very good, solid granite, with good protection. But this being Ireland, and more specifically Donegal, you have an equal chance of ending up sitting in the rain waving off clouds of midgies.

Whichever it is, however, you will be doing it in one of the most beautiful, tranquil, climbing areas you will ever have the privilege of visiting.


The Danoon waterfall, a short detour from the track (1st phase of the walk), we missed it last time.


There was a lot more water around this time too.


So is the rock wet or what? Kinda irrelevant anyway when it starts raining.


No he's not a member of one of Northern Ireland's paramilitary organisations, Mark is wearing a midgie-net. Don't leave home without one.

Christmas in June

On Friday morning I finally plucked up the nerve to solo "Christmas" on Wee Binnian. It kept me busy the whole way up, and I almost down-climbed from half-way, but there comes a point when it's easier and less scary to just carry on up.

The top section was not as bad as I'd feared, probably because I'd hyped it up in my mind so much. There is a lot of air underneath you on the final few moves, however.

This was quite an achievement for me, in terms of where my climbing is at right now. It's not a difficult climb, I've soloed harder (both in SA and here), but I've had this climb as a marker in my mind, something I've needed to do to prove to myself that I'm really back. I'll never be the climber I once was (and I was never outstanding), but considering all the other things in life that I have started and given up on, I feel I can now truly say that rock climbing is not one of those things.

I can't explain why it took the solo ascent of an insignificant route on an insignificant peak in a small mountain range in Northern Ireland to finally realise this, but anyhow, the job is done.

I've put out a request on the Northern climbers forum to try and get a photo of the climb, or if I figure out how to get photos off my phone and onto the computer, I'll put one up.

Wee Binnian

Because this is an Irish climbing blog, many posts are going to start with a comment on the weather, so let this one be no exception. We've had GREAT weather this past week, and this morning I took off early, to the Mournes of course, and walked up to Little ("Wee") Binnian


There's a route here called "Christmas" that I've wanted to do for a long time, but I was in solo mode again today, and I don't quite fancy the top groove of Christmas as a solo. The guide book describes it as "intimidating", and I've learned to take this guidebook at its word. Another time perhaps, if I solo it I'll have to take the brass ones along.

Anyhow, the views from the top of Wee Binnian are awesome. This is literally "where the mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea".


You can look down on the Silent Valley dam.


And across to the Carlingford Lough, that's Slieve Foy on the other side of the lough, and Dundalk, my home town, is behind that (out of sight). There's talk of a bridge being built over the lough, joining the Republic and Northern Ireland, and it will cut down the journey time to the Mournes a great deal, and will cut out Newry's traffic.


But I was there to climb, and I did two routes, Diamond and Valentine, both VD grade.



I was back in Dundalk by lunch time, and Nadia and I treated ourselves to lunch at the Crowne Plaza Hotel.