....and why everyone should try it!

So, clinging to a rock for dear life, fingers slowly freezing in the arctic Yorkshire weather and wearing ridiculous rubber booties, I can honestly say this is not an ordinary Saturday. No, an ordinary Saturday involves a lot of work around the bed, a little TV and maybe even a couple of beers before bedtime – but where’s the fun in that?

This particular Saturday happened to be the day that my long time friend and occasional weekend tennis partner, Michael, decided it was just the right weather to enjoy a pastime of his and leave the racquets to ‘all those Pimms drinking nancys’ (us Geordies, we do have a way with words). Apparently it was high time I got myself into rock climbing. ‘High time’, indeed.

Not wanting to be a spoilsport, I agreed, and within minutes had been whisked off to the recesses of the Peak District to a minute town known as Hathersage, just south of Sheffield, and just short of about 100 occupants, or so it seemed. Actually Hathersage is practically the Mecca of climbers, ramblers and hikers alike in this country and as such is swamped with eager outdoor enthusiasts in the summer months.

The middle of January

Unfortunately, in his enthusiasm, Michael had dragged us out here in the middle of January, when British weather serves to keep the average person safely inside with the fire on and not many people would be that surprised to hear rumours of polar bears roaming the dales. Inevitably, this small Derbyshire town is virtually desolate when we arrive, but I’m assured by my ‘mentor’ that climbers are much tougher than their ‘softer’ hiking counterparts, and we’d warm up as soon as we got on the rocks. Time then, to get my uninitiated self ‘all kitted up’.

‘Kit’ for the average climber basically involves: a pair of rubber boots, a small bag in which to keep chalk and a mat for falling on to. Now I was always under the impression that climbing involved all manner of ropes and complicated harnesses and the like, but apparently there are two types of climbing and we were going to be trying the less dangerous one (big sigh of relief from me there). Bouldering, or climbing boulders generally no higher than 5 metres, as we were going to do, meant that we wouldn’t need ropes, whereas route climbing (all the scary stuff you see in American films) means climbing up to 100 feet and that’s where all the technical stuff comes in.

For obvious reason then, bouldering was definitely the way forward for an absolute novice, although route climbing is relatively safe due to the progress of modern technology, especially at man-made indoor climbing walls, where experienced climbers are on hand to help and teach new climbers how to ‘belay’ (basically, be the person on the other end of the rope as a counter weight to the person climbing – and stop them falling off!). Bouldering is also much more beginner orientated indoors, with man made walls obviously offering a more accessible range of difficulty and height than mother nature could weather out of rock. It’s also much cheaper, despite the entry fee, as there’s no real need to wear special boots and chalk and mats are provided on site.

Jump naked into a pool of spiders

Eager Micheal, of course, didn’t tell me this till after I’d splashed out over 50 quid for some top of the range boots, ignoring the ones for £15 in pursuit of something that would make damn sure I stuck to the rock. At least we were going to be sharing his pre-purchased mat and chalk.

Two things that you don’t get on the indoor walls, of course, are the amazing views of the countryside and fresh air that the world lays out for the adventurous. Indoor climbing, I have since decided, is fantastically fun, challenging and easier to get into, but for a real bouldering experience, you simply have to get outside. Not only does it seem more authentic, but for anyone like me with a morbid fear of heights, nothing beats the adrenaline rush of hauling yourself up something that not only wasn’t designed to be climbed but also tries its damn best to scare the hell out of you. If you consider facing your fears, climbing indoors is like stroking a spider, bouldering outside with no built in mats and the wind and cold sapping your energy is more akin to jumping naked into a pool full of spiders wearing flies in your hair.

Burbage Boulders and the Elephant's Arse

And therein lies the beauty of rock climbing. For anyone who wants to exercise for very little money, in a safe and comfortable environment and wake up the next day, their muscles throbbing in the satisfied manner of someone who has done a hard days work and damn well enjoyed it, then indoor climbing leads the way. But for outdoor enthusiasts and adrenaline junkies, outdoor bouldering offers thrills and views that sky divers pay thousands for. Luckily, both are available across the country, although it may be necessary to buy a guide book to locate the best outdoor boulders.

Fortunately for me, I have my own guide going by the name of Michael, who, on my first ever attempt at the sport, has brought me to a place known as Burbage Boulders, little more than 5 minutes from Hathersage. It is here that I find myself clinging to a ‘problem’ (the technical name for a bouldering route) affectionately known as The Elephant’s Arse (problems are named by the first person to ascend them – funny bunch, climbers). Now fair play to Michael, he had said I would warm up when I got going and how right he was! I’d been holding my body weight for 5 seconds and I was comprehensively knackered, testament to the amazing fitness benefits of the sport.

Raging beast of terror

Bit by bit I’d hauled my lardy frame to half a foot away from the summit and it was at this point youthful exuberance and determination to succeed began to waiver. Looking down between my legs I see a mile of rock face falling away to the ground where a piddling little mat the size and consistency of a stick of candy floss awaits to devour me. My morbid fear of heights has become a raging beast of terror hauling at my legs, trying to drag me off the ‘safety’ of my rock. BUT I got this far, and like hell am I getting off the ride now. Time for one last pull to the finish…

Without the beta

'Wow, you did that without the beta’. Now me and Michael like different things. I like cooking and mechanics, he likes rock climbing. He thinks Swarfega is an Italian herb and that sausages are made by pushing pigs through connect 4 boards. I’m pretty damn certain beta is a form of videotape. Apparently though, it is actually climber speak for information on how to do the problem, and so doing it without the beta is actually quite a big deal. Not that this made any difference to me I was too busy trying to catch my breath and take in what I’d actually just achieved.

 I’d done something I never thought I would, I’d worked every muscle in my body, I’d beaten nature, and, most of all, I’d conquered my fear of heights. I defy anyone in the world to experience that feeling and not be happy for the rest of the day. I later found out that what I had climbed was about as hard as pouring a cup of tea, but what did I care? I’d jumped in a bath of spiders and squashed every last one. What better way to spend a weekend?