Wen Zawn with Caff during a sight-seeing attempt at the cardboard thesaurus.
A few days ago I was reading a forum topic on the UKC started by Chris Craggs, the title of the topic is: Awareness of danger, here is a link
In his opening message, Chris explains:
“We were climbing at Horseshoe today and Colin pointed out the team to our left. The leader had pulled up about six clips, taken a few falls and then lowered himself, removing all remaining quickdraws on the way down. The other guy ran up to the high bolt, pressed down and then quickly fell.
I put on my best schoolyard voice and shouted that he should lower himself and hang at least one extra bolt below him “just in case”. He apologized, thanked me and that’s exactly what he did. A member of our team chatted to them later, it was their first day of climbing.
I was a little shocked by their apparent lack of understanding that they might be in danger, that bolts don’t usually fail and ropes don’t usually come unclipped – but it can happen.
*
Reading the article reminded me (vaguely) of a situation a few years ago when Jack Geldard, James McHaffie, Adam Wainwright and I decided to go climbing at Wen Zawn in Gogarth.
The day was cloudy. The kind of monochrome sky that gives one thing away, and it’s not a good thing. The four of us abseiled into the fence, the sea was wide, the rocks all proud and slippery. The rain started almost as soon as we started jumping off the rocks and looking around. The sea must have been at spring tide, swirling around the rocks, but shallower than I had seen before. The rustling sound of the sea echoed in the enclosed, dark space. The steep, shiny walls loomed.
Adam and I were hoping to climb a route first climbed in 1991 by Paul Pritchard and Leigh McGinley called Rubble. It was an E7 6a, the best line on the fence and perhaps the smoothest. Jack and Caff were going to try a Johnny Dawes and Bob Drury E7 6b, called Hardback Thesaurus. The first ascent of Hardback Thesaurus had required several attempts on Johnny’s part, over several days, and had set the standard for the route. Without searching through Google (other search engines available), somewhere there is a film of Johnny repeatedly attempting and falling from the climb, which was rated E8, and obviously dangerous. Caff, of course, was on sight, armed with heavy equipment that he wouldn’t need, and several skyhooks, which he would have!
The rain was now heavy and the four of us took shelter behind the fence. Mr Softy and The Mad Brown, both routes, alongside George Smith, Adam had participated in the first ascent. The walls, blocks of orange, yellow, and gray, spiraling above, were running water. The light was eerie, the rock was dark and getting darker and darker. Well, I thought, nothing to do today. At one point the rain stopped and Caff made his way through the rocks to get under Hardback.
“Shall we try, Jack?” » Caff suggested.
Jack looked a little perplexed, but he wasn’t the one about to launch himself onto that wet, unprotected wall, so he said:
“Um, yeah, okay, James.”
[I’ve always known Caff as Caff, but Jack had always called Caff by his proper name, James. To this day, I’ve never really wondered why this is, and I’ve never asked Caff which he prefers?]
Adam and I hopped off the rocks to the start of the crazy overhanging concrete sea wall, which is just rubble. I ran my hand over the rock, it was soaked.
“I’m not trying that today, Adam.”
I turned to look into the depths of the Zawn where Caff (belayed by a very concerned Jack) was clinging to the wall. I was pretty sure the attempt would end quickly, once Caff decided he was in no condition, but cautiously, Caff moved forward. I should have known that Caff would continue, because on other occasions when I had delivered, his tenacity, in the face of adverse conditions, was remarkable. In some ways, perhaps it was this tenacity, to take a chance, when a whole host of things stood in the way, that pushed Caff to take many difficult roads.
There was a bit of equipment, but as it went up it definitely felt a bit strange, and it really didn’t look like it was that good. From time to time Caff would ask Jack to keep an eye out, although to be honest I’m sure there wasn’t enough distance for Jack to run (from one side of the fence to the ‘other) to avoid falling to the ground.
Caff made some pretty delicate, wet, unprotected moves to the right and placed a skyhook. If the hook tore, it would definitely hit the ground, as the last gear was well below. Shaking, chalking a few times (remember, the rock is wet!), he aimed for a small overhang where he said he could see possible nut placement. He reached the location of the nut, which he then yelled out saying it wasn’t that good, and threw another skyhook over a small edge. After a while, he began what appeared to be a difficult sequence of moves, undermining a small overhang. Shouting, Caff said he could definitely see a good catch and some material a little above, but in a flash one of the flakes he was cutting tore and it went flying. I had never screamed before, or since, while watching someone fall. I was sure I was witnessing my friend’s death, but he stopped, the hooks, one on each rope, had held.
“Let me go Jack.”
He reached the ground and untied. I have to admit I felt a little wobbly, Jack looked nauseous, but Caff looked fine.
“What are we going to do now?” Jack asked, looking up at a wet wall, with a few pieces of equipment and the two ropes hanging from the two distant skyhooks.
Caff looked up, then turned to Jack saying, “You should try the top rope Jack, those hooks are bombers.”
*
I have to admit that Chris’s story, and his shock at the climber who removed all the draws under the one he was lowering, and then the next person who top-roped from that draw and its bolt, m was a bit reminiscent of the Wen Zawn episode. I wonder if Chris would have put on his best schoolyard voice that day and talked with Caff?