Day 76 - Slow Going

cheater

Somewhat counter-intuitively, travelling these days seems to take forever. 

I thought that the cheetah on the side of this gangway implied speedy travel.  But no, it seems that it actually means spending most of the day sitting around doing nothing, in true big cat style.

We left home at around 11.45am this morning..

Travelled for 30 minutes by car to Birmingham Airport...
2 hours 20 minutes on the plane to Alicante Airport...
and 50 minutes or so by car to Cabo Roig, just south of Torrevieja.

That's around 3 hours and 40 minutes travel time.

So how come it's now around 21.45hrs, and we've only just got here?!

Ok, so we've added +1hrs to the timezone, and we stopped at the supermercado on the way back to the apartment.  

But we spent a lot of time waiting...

The flight was delayed by 30 minutes, so we had to sit in Costa Coffee for 90 minutes or so, then wait another 20 minutes or so at the gate.  Of course, once on the plane you have to wait around for a bit whilst everyone gets seated and the plane queues for a take off slot.   

The flight was much shorter than scheduled, as we had a strong tail wind, so despite leaving very late, we arrived on time.

Then of course we had to wait for 20 minutes for luggage to arrive on the carousel, then stand around for another 40 minutes or so waiting to pick up our hire car...by this time, the waiting seemed endless, and we were tired and fairly worn.

It was light, sunny and 21C when we landed at 6pm, and as we stood in line for the car, we could see the hills bathed in a warm glow of sunlight.  I was really hoping for a sunny drive down to Cabo Roig.

The journey passes the salt lakes, which are always well attended by flamingoes and other water birds, so I'd planned to stop and get some pictures on the way.  There are also hills and mountains across the way that may have made for some nice landscape shots.

But instead we stood in a queue for a car, and watched the light fade, until by the time we got our car and got out of the airport, it was fully dark.

So rather than a beautiful vista, or an elegant waterfowl, you've got this picture of a cheap and cheerful charter plane.

Lucky you! 

Anyway, brace yourselves, as we're now in climbing country!  Adventures await, and tomorrow we will be off to break new ground (and hopefully no arms, legs or bolts) sport climbing outdoors for the first time...or perhaps I should say, escalada desportiva al aire libre!

Ay caramba!

Bring it on!

B-)

Day 75 - Been There, Ate That

meat and three veg?

Ok, so I'm dredging again.

It's been such a busy day, towards the end of a busy week, and I didn't have a moment to even think about a photo until I was sitting down to eat at 8.30 this evening.

We're off on our adventures tomorrow (have I mentioned that?), so Anna's folks are staying at our place, to look after the animals whilst we're away.    They arrived at our place this afternoon, which meant this evening we had a traditional meat and two veg. 

Well, I suppose it's meat and three veg, strictly, but who's counting?  Ok, yeah, I'm counting...can't help myself!  

Seriously though, does potato count as veg?  Doesn't meat and two veg often seem to consist of meat, potatoes and two veg?  I don't know.  I so don't know that I don't even care.

Anyway, photo's of food seem to be a bit of a thing on Facebook and Twitter and whatnot.  I don't get it.  I thought that maybe if I took a photo of a plate of food, it might give me some insight, so when Anna sat down with this lovely meal I quickly seized my chance. 

So now I've experienced the whole, taking a photo and putting it on the internet thing. 

Nope...don't get it.  Don't get it at all. 

Why would anyone be interested in this?  They can't eat it... 

I mean it looks nice and everything, and indeed it was very nice.  But that was before, and now it's after, and I've totally lost interest.

Been there, ate that...

Day 74 - Weighty Matters

too much enough?

The years first climbing adventure approaches!  Only one more day at work now...and I'm starting to get excited about the holiday.

We spent some time the other evening going through all of our climbing gear, trying to remember everything we might need.  Today's photo shows everything we thought of; shoes, spare shoes, harnesses, helmets, slings, quickdraws, slingdraws, chalk bags, rope (in a rope bag), belay gloves, finger tape, prussicks, screwgates, belay devices, HMS 'biners, and walkie talkies. 

Then of course there'll be a rucksack, guidebooks, climbing trews (complete with gusseted crotch, natch), baselayers, windproofs, fleeces, sunglasses, smartphones, headtorches, approach shoes, beanies, plasters, water bottles, and buffs.

Blimey, it's not like we're climbing Everest...yet still we need all that gear?!

There's also the small matter of carriage - someone has to carry all that from the car to the crag, which is usually quite a walk...

And always uphill.  And occasionally a full-on scramble.  And we only have one rucksack. And it's mine.  And it'll probably weigh 40-60lbs.

And I guess it's going to be me that has to carry it...

All that training, lugging Jazz up the stairs every night, should come in handy at last!

It's a good job we've been climbing so hard lately, too...hopefully this will mean we are in reasonable shape, although I am utterly exhausted at the moment.

I've actually been really sore since climbing on Sunday - whilst I usually avoid the more gymnastic climbing moves (due to age, inflexibility, and a more general lack of talent), I did a couple of pretty dynamic moves.

Both involved throwing myself from one set of holds, up high and to the right (all points off), before catching the next big hold with both hands.  Obviously I swing quite a lot, and it takes some effort to get the swing under control, and then lift my feet up and onto the wall.

Normally, your weight sits on your feet, and your core controls the movement of your upper body, mainly by keeping it upright.  

When you invert this, and put all the weight on your hands, then your lower body is hanging off your core, which is in no way equipped to deal with the weight in this way.   Essentially, your legs swing about and wrench your abdominals all over the place, before you can sort it out.  

At the time, this all seems strenuous, but fine...doesn't hurt a bit.

Give it 24 hours though, and the DOMS (Delayed Onset Muscle Soreness) will kick in...then you'll realise just how much punishment you gave those muscles.

Yesterday, I couldn't cough without wincing horribly at the pain this invoked in my core.   Today it's eased quite a bit, although I can still feel it.

Anyway, here's me, wittering on about climbing again.   Sorry 'bout that.  It's just what we're focussed on in the evenings, at the moment. 

You'd better get used to it, mind...we're off on a climbing holiday in a couple of days...did I mention that?

;-)

PS Think yourself lucky...I only just managed to dissuade myself from naming this post Gusseted Crotch.

You're welcome...

Day 73 - Scratting Around

cam again?

We picked up a real bargain on Sunday. 

A couple of winters ago, we'd been climbing for about a year, and decided to enter a bouldering competition at Big Rock Climbing Centre in Milton Keynes. 

In a bouldering gym, there're usually one to several hundred different "problems".   A problem is made up of a set of like-coloured hand and foot holds, bolted to walls of varying steepness, from almost vertical, to extremely overhanging - climbing on a ceiling in some cases.   The objective is to climb from the starting holds to the finishing hold, using only the holds for that problem.

Problems are graded from the very easy (not much more difficult than climbing a ladder), to unfeasibly impossible.   Of course, where "impossible" starts is entirely due to your personal level of technique, skill and strength.

Very easy climbs (indoors at least) start at grade V0, and go up to around V8.  Outdoors, the highest Grade so far achieved is V16, and there are only a few boulderers in the world that can climb at this level.  

But one of the great things about bouldering (or climbing in general), is that everyone has their own personal level of easy, difficult, impossible.

A year ago, we were finding V0-1 very easy, V2-3 quite difficult, and we only managed the occasional V4.    In sport (roped) grades, we were finding f4's easy, f5-f6a+ difficult, and f6b very hard indeed, usually impossible.

This year, we're finding V0-3 fairly easy, V4-5 difficult, and I don't think we've climbed V6.   In sport grades we're finding f5-f6a easy, f6a+-f6b+ difficult, and only getting anywhere on the odd f6c.

But it seems more or less the same difficulty.   We still climb at our limit each time, it's just that that's around V4 now rather than V2-3. 

So, where was I?  Oh yes, bouldering competitions!

From October, they set around 50 new problems each month until March or so.  These will be spread over the grades.  Each time you climb, you tick off those climbs you manage to do.  At the end, the winner is whoever climbed the most problems of the 250 or so set.

We'd usually climb around 15-20 problems each session, although Anna, of course, climbed one or two each session that I couldn't do. 

Then, in December, Anna injured her elbow falling off the wall.   I had horrible shoulder issues at the time, and we missed 7 or 8 weeks of the competition whilst we tried to recover. 

At last we felt able to go climbing again, and tentatively got back into the competition for the last couple of weeks.

I had the mixed blessing of being in the "Veteran" category, but still I ended up 4th with around 100 problems climbed, against a winner with 112 or so. 

Anna was climbing very nicely through that period (injury permitting), and finished 3rd in the tough Womens category, on 115 or so, only pipped by a handful of climbs...a brilliant achievement!

The prize was a small trophy, and a £20 voucher to spend in the shop at the centre. 

Shortly after that, Anna had her hip operation and couldn't climb for 6 months, and we forgot about the voucher. 

It turned up again recently, and as we were there on Sunday we thought we'd see if it was still valid, 2 years later. 

We were looking at quickdraws and the like , although we didn't really need any.  Then someone pointed out the sale rack, with 25% off.  A couple of small cams immediately caught the eye.   As noted earlier, these can be expensive, up to around £60 each. 

The ones in the sale were small, basic 3 Cam Units, which normally cost around £35.  With 25% off, that came to £26.25.   We scratted around in our climbing bag, where there's always loads of loose change, found the £6.25 we needed, and left with what felt like a free cam...bonus!

Of course, we won't need cams on our forthcoming climbing holiday, as it's sport, not trad.

My daughter pin snot and her boyfriend Roob are coming to join us for a few days, which will be great...although it won't change the requirements for cam units. 

For 3 years I've been trying to get pin to climb with me, but so far, no luck.   She's tried it but doesn't like the hard work aspect of it. 

Maybe outdoors in a warm climate will change her mind...

Ok yeah, I'm just wishful thinking now, aren't I?

Sigh...

;-)

Day 72 - Cat in a Bag

a cat...in a bag

As I was heading for bed late last night, I had to smile.   Actually, it was this morning, early, around 12.45 am.  So it counts as today - yay!

I'd been up in the loft earlier, as part of our ongoing holiday preps, and whilst up there I'd grabbed this holdall.  My plan is to put all our climbing gear for the holiday in there, to take on the plane.

There is a ridiculous amount of equipment we need to take...maybe I'll revisit that later in the week, when I pack it all up.

I'd dumped the holdall unceremoniously at the top of the stairs, in a "I'll deal with that at some point later" kind of way...then immediately forgot about it, of course.

Each night before I go to bed (my baby), I have to carry Jazz up the stairs and plonk him on the end of the bed.   Lugging 60lbs of dozy dog up and down a dozen steps daily must do something for my strength and fitness, surely?!

So as I trudged, bleary eyed, up the stairs last night, Jazz in my arms, I was amused to find Maisie sitting, nonchalant as you please, in the bag. 

I dumped Jazz and rushed back to get a snap, but as usual the pre-flash startled her and she immediately got up to move.

Damn your ninja senses, Maisie-san!

There's something about boxes, bags, crates and wardrobes that really attracts her.

Leave a bag lying around...at some point you'll find Maisie in it.  Open a wardrobe door and she'll appear, miraculously, at your feet, and nose her way into the dark cave that's just been magically revealed...which has given us an idea for a series of photo's:

Cat in a Bag!

This is the internet, you know you want it...

Watch this space...

;-)

Day 71 - Too Cool For School

redroom

So this was my restful, relaxing Sunday morning, after a frantic week at work, and a day of chores on Saturday.

There are a few things to note.

Firstly, this is our lounge.  Do you remember me telling you about The Red Thing.

Quod Erat Demonstrandum...

Secondly, that incriminating cereal bowl isn't even mine!  I didn't even have time to have breakfast before we went climbing this afternoon.   It was the last session before our climbing holiday, and we did ok.

Climbed very hard actually...it was probably the hardest overall set of routes (roped climbs) we've ever done in a session, followed by the hardest set of problems (short, strenuous boulder climbs, without ropes) we've ever done.  

I think we're ready for Spanish Adventures, at any rate.  

La esclada deportiva en el sol!  Que sera increible!

Back to my Sunday morning...

This must be some kind of busman's "restful" Sunday morning.  What am I doing??

Oh, of course, I'm fixing PC's...

Or rather, rebuilding the image on two laptops.  They came with Windows 8 installed, and nobody needs that.  So I had to wipe and partition the drives, install Windows 7, install everything else that you need (browsers, itunes, acrobat, media players, security, utilities et cetera (bit more Latin for you there, you're welcome).  Then of course all the windows updates, and the inevitable unidentified driver conundrum.

I got it all done ok, but it took up most of my weekend.  Oh yeah, I forgot to mention, I was also updating my own PC, and fixing an annoying bug on Anna's laptop...and setting up some walkie talkies, for mountainous adventuring...and trying to make lists of all the climbing gear we need to remember to take...and some other stuff, probably.  

And last but not least, trying to teach Loz the finer points of Windows Image building...

click there

I have to say, whilst she made an effort to pay attention, I'm not sure she was really interested.   She's not come to me with any follow up questions, and I've yet to catch her trying to format a hard drive...

I'm sure she has the smarts for it, but maybe she's simply too cool to give a rats ass.   

Which she would happily do - with rodents, she usually starts by eating the head, and works her way as far down the body as she can be bothered.   Often the back legs and tail are left for me to deal with.  Rats asses, she could get for you, if she cared...

But I reckon she's just too cool for school.

She's cool for cats, she's cool for ca-ah-ah-ah-ats...

Fin...

(I just wanted to sneak a fourth language in there, je ne sais pas pourqois!)...

Day 70 - Uneasy Alliance

strange bedfellows

Loz, the ginger and white tortoiseshell, is definitely Queen of the Menagerie.   She thinks she's Queen of the World, and I suppose it must look that way, to her. 

The other animals avoid her, fearful of her wrath.

We puny humans, on the other hand, run around after her...we feed her when she asks, clear the litter tray after her, open doors on demand, provide a comfy throne for her to recline and doze on, and light the fire for her every evening.

We even dispose of the body, when she abandons something half-eaten, somewhere in the house...on the doorstep, on the landing at the top of the stairs, on the lounge floor.  Once, she left half a baby rabbit in the small bedroom/office, much to Cathy's consternation. 

(Cathy's Consternation - that sounds like an american folk song, or maybe a bleak, northern lament...).

Another time I came home to find a dead weasel on the rug by the fire, and bloodstains on the carpet.   Sometimes, all that she'll leave is a pile of entrails, and the stairs seem to be an appropriate place for that, apparently.  

Oh yeah, it's all glitz and glamour here!

She'll often bring her prey home live and let it go...

Just this afternoon, shortly before I took this picture, she released a vole, with only a minor head injury.  Fortunately Anna spotted the intrusion, and I had to spend a few minutes playing the ever challenging "Catch the Rodent" game.

The best humane rodent trap is the Wellington Boot.  To a mouse or a vole, it's just a deep, dark hole - the perfect place to go to ground.   

Once Loz somehow managed to release both a live, healthy vole, and a live, healthy field mouse into the lounge at the same time.   They both retreated into the mass of cables and cords behind the TV, and Loz was hunting them, despite access being pretty tricky for her.   I shooed her away and put a welly down, and within 5 minutes had them both sitting down in the shadowy heel of the boot, nervously looking up at me.

As I sat Xbox-ing one spring afternoon a couple of years ago, Loz strutted into the room, immensely proud and impressed with herself, with a dead baby rabbit in her mouth.   I chased her out with it, though she'd had her moment of glory by then. 

Loz taught Jazz very early in their relationship that she should not be disturbed in any way...Jazz won't even look in her general direction, never mind look directly at her. 

But still, they've forged an uneasy alliance based on his total submissiveness, and her haughty contempt (which sometimes leads her to swipe him across the flanks once in a while, just because).

This is Jazz's favourite position on the sofa, whilst on a sunny afternoon, Loz has discovered that the cushioned back of the sofa makes a lovely warm spot in which to bask. 

And so we've realised that they increasingly hang out like this.  They pay each other almost no attention, but Jazz is relaxed around her (as she demands - any excitement will be swiftly dealt with!), and she will often now purr in his presence.  

I think she takes comfort from the perceived protection of having a dog around, as an early warning system if nothing else.   Jazz was never much of a guard dog, and he's given up entirely now, but she knows he'll waken her if anyone shows up.

Because Loz was sitting in a bright sunny window, I couldn't get a decently lit shot for love nor money...far too much white light.   

So I started editing in Picasa, meaning to tweak the contrast, but ended up using a few interesting effects.  The result is no classic, but I quite like its rawness, and it's more interesting than the original. 

Her Royal Highness has a hint of we are not amused about her, whilst Jazz is giving the usual, urgent, don't even look eyes to anyone near.

What an odd couple they make...

Day 69 - Nordfor Sola

banff!

This evening we went to the see the Banff Mountain Film Festival tour.  It's a series of short films on the incredible stuff that people get up to, in the name of fun and adventure.

There was a film about kayaking down waterfalls on an unfeasibly beautiful river in Mexico.  In another, a young man in a wingsuit flies perilously close to the ground high in the summer Alps.   In New Zealand, a bunch of mountain bikers perform impressive (for a few minutes, anyway) jumps and spins.   In Norway, skiiers fling themselves off the tops of mountains, and descend almost vertical faces in a kind of a semi-controlled fall.

One that I'd been really looking forward to was a 5 minute short called 35, which had really intrigued me when studying the playlist beforehand.  Ostensibly, it's about an american climbing 35 in 35 - 35 routes on his 35th birthday.   

(Wuss...he can come back when he's 50!)

Anyway, it ended up being an odd film with almost no climbing, and not much of a story.  It was just a series of clips with some rambling narration.  Disappointingly, it didn't really grab my attention at all. 

The first film of the evening was one of the best.  Entitled Sensei, and was a little bit of a Karate Kid for climbers.   Dan Woods, an amazingly strong and very successful young american climber, is taught patience by 43 year old climbing legend Yuji Hirayama.   Dan is super strong, but very inexperienced.   The duo set off for Borneo to attempt super hard sport routes high on Mount Kinabalu.   

Great film...fun, inspirational, dramatic and inspiring.  

But by far the most engaging movie of the show was Nordfor Sola (North of the Sun).

Two young Norwegians decide to spend 9 months, through the cold, dark Arctic winter, living on a remote beach in Northern Norway.   They have minimal equipment, and resolve to build a cabin using flotsam and jetsam collected from the beach.

Believe it or not, their main reason to be there is to surf the big waves crashing onto the beach.  Even in the depths of the Arctic winter, when the sun doesn't come up for weeks on end, they're surfing...

Isolated from the world for extended periods, they spend time chopping wood...reflecting...clearing rubbish...changing...surfing...evolving.

It's a truly remarkable film.   It's atmospheric, thought provoking, laugh out loud funny, and brilliantly made.

Two young men in their early 20's, teaching the world lessons in economic, sustainable, practical living, recycling, reusing, improving their corner of the world just because it seems like the right thing to do.

If you get the opportunity, go see it.

You won't regret it.

Day 68 - Graceful and Gritty

rockover

I was determined to go for a climb this evening, even though I've been so busy, and so tired...

I had another early start and late finish at work, with much drama in between.   I've made progress on a number of issues though, and overall, I think, it's been a good day. 

Yet still I felt the need for a climb...or rather (as Anna pointed out), the need to have climbed.

It's often like that, on a dark, cold, mid-week evening.  It's difficult to stay motivated to go when you're tired and hungry.  But we've been doing this for long enough now to know that we always, without fail, feel better afterwards, and we never regret having gone. 

So we simply avoid the subject of whether or not we're up for going, and just get on with it.

It's a rush to get home from work, feed and walk animals, get climbing gear together and leave...we never get there before 8pm.   We then climb for 2 hours (until closing time!), and get home for around 10.45pm, after which we just have to have dinner, blog (in my case) and shower. 

It's a long night, and it's catching up with me again...midnight ticks nearer as I type. 

We were both very tired before we started, but still we did a good number of fairly hard climbs.   Maybe 15-20 routes, mostly around 6a+, with the odd 6b+ thrown in for good measure.   

Unusually, Anna struggled a bit, which meant she only climbed around my level.

Anyway we wanted the mileage - we're still trying to get into shape for our imminent sport climbing trip to Spain.    I think it bodes well...we felt out of sorts yet still climbed close to our limits. 

I wanted a climbing pic, as we do so much of it, and the voice commands on my phone came in handy again.   I could hold the rope in one hand (to catch Anna, should she fall off), with the other holding the phone, and simply smile for the camera.

I'm fully conditioned to belay (i.e. catch your partner if she falls) as #1 priority, which apparently means I can't concentrate on framing a shot.

Still, I like the one above, it captures a hint of Anna's elegance on the wall.  She really is a graceful, climber, and gritty too, which is a strong combination. 

Also, she's got this yellow, purple and black thing going on...very cool!

rock chick

Now, at some point in the next week, I'm hoping to have enough sleep.  After which time, with a bit of luck and a fair wind, maybe standards will rise a little round here.   Too much journalesque waffle and not enough interesting shit to say, lately...

Gotta get on top of that one...

As the actress said to the bishop...

Day 67 - Braindead

a picture

HDR photo's can be quite nice, dramatic even...but sometimes they don't look much like the original.

Obviously, because today has a "day" in the name, work was demanding.   I needed to be in by 7.30 at the latest, and, you know, who needs more than 5 hours sleep?

So this morning, I was heading out at 7am, bleary eyed, when I noticed the sunrise.   I stopped the car as I crossed the bridge over our little stream, stepped out, and ran off a few shots.

I knew the composition was dodgy, but I was where I was, you know?  But the lighting was very different.   To me at the time, it seemed clear and cold and bright, and sunrise was predominantly pink.  Whereas in my photo, the impression is more wild and warm and dark.

They're building a house a mile down our (single track) lane, so there're all these huge construction lorries reversing up and down all day.   They are totally destroying the place...breaking the road up, churning up the verges, dumping huge amounts of mud everywhere.   

All the sweat and toil I spend keeping the verge looking nice, and it's just getting trashed.  I've no idea how, or even if we can bring it back into some sort of shape....once all this rain has passed and we've had some time for the water table to sink a bit, anyway. 

I've just calculated that after only 3 days, I'm less than a handful of hours shy of my weekly quota...and I have to be in early again tomorrow.  I know some people routinely work very long hours...but I don't!

My brain is really giving up at this point...I think it's curled up in a corner somewhere, sobbing quietly.  That sounds fairly tempting, actually...I might go join it.

Anyway, I've no idea what I'm waffling on about.

Honestly...I'm clinically braindead at this point.

I'll shut up.

zzzzzzz

Day 66 - Get Your Kicks

on day 66

Honestly, work is just mad at the moment.  I was in by about 8.30 this morning, and left at 8.30 this evening.   The only break I had was to nip to Sainsbury's for a job lot of cakes.

My team have been under the cosh a little lately...we've had one or two crises to attend to (not of our own making, I hasten to add!), and I've had to ask a lot of my staff.

They've been great, willing, engaged, proactive and as a manager, just what I'd want from my team.

As a small gesture, I went to buy some goodies to keep everyone sweet (do you see what I did there?).   £20 buys a lot of cake, as it turns out.   It felt a little like we were attempting to corner the world market... 

As it further turned out, we really needed the sugar, as everything went crazy all over again, mid-afternoon.

This evening, as a group of us gathered in the War Room, I remembered that there would probably be some doughnuts or pastries left in the kitchen, so went off to requisition them.

There was almost nothing left... 

I'm too scared to do the maths on the person:cake ratio...but even as I say that, my eye wanders up to the photo and my brain starts calculating...

In order to distract myself, I've focussed back on the writing, but now my mind is vaguely counting how many I had myself, through the day...

Hmm really going to have to turn my thoughts away from that one!

I'd better just sign off before my brain has a seizure from the frantic calculations, powered by a ridiculous amount of sugar.

Ooh, I know...I'll do a spot of self hypnosis, use the power of suggestion on myself...

the cake is a lie
the cake is a lie
the cake is a lie

Day 65 - FFS, Google

how do you spell grrrr?

This has been niggling away at me for a while.   And, truth be told, I've been saving it for a day when I'm really short of time...I was in work by 7.20 this morning, and I sent the last work mail of the day about half an hour ago (it's just after 10pm). 

So tonight, I'm tired, and I'm keeping it short and sweet.  

Well, short, anyway.

Short-ish.  

Probably...

So, to the point...what the fuck, Google?!  

Let me get this straight...the Google blogging service is called Blogger.  The main website is www.blogger.com.   The URL of my personal blog is 50h1aday.blogspot.co.uk.  Virtually every page has a button on it that says, "View blog".

And then I find that your helpful spell checker software in your editing interface objects to words like, oh I don't know, BLOG?!?!! 

Those of you who know me, will probably agree that I can be a bit of a pedant.  Some even go so far as to label me with the charge of Grammar Nazi (cough Aaron cough).

Despite my apparent love for the colour red, I don't like that red squiggle that appears underneath words that Google in its infinite wisdom deems incorrect, even though it sounds a bit like a red squirrel.  

And funnily enough, the word "blog" crops up fairly often in a daily whatchama call it, what's that thing again, thingummy wotsit,

oh yes, it's called a fucking blog!!

Thanks for that, you know, listening and what-not.   

I feel better.

I really do...

Day 64 - Big Jugs and Flappers

climbing hands

For the first couple of years, climbing really beats your hands up.

You get blisters on the creases of your fingers, and cuts and bruises all over the back of your hands.   Your skin gets pinched, grazed, scratched and scarred.  Your knuckles get cut, gouged, swollen and bloodied.  Your joints, tendons and other soft tissues get tweaked, torn, pulled and popped.

Nothing in an ordinary life prepares your hands for the abuse they get when you start climbing.

It's brutal.

(am I selling this to you yet?)

But then at some point 2 or 3 years in, you realise that you don't get all those pains in your fingers any more.  You no longer have to avoid using one finger or another because you're nursing an injury.  You no longer have to cut climbing sessions short because blisters are developing, or your skin's simply become too sore to hold anything.

Moreover, you start to notice that your skin has become much thicker, tougher, like well oiled leather.   Your fingers are also a little thicker, and definitely more serious looking. 

And your fingers become super strong.   I regularly push the heavy doors at work open with a single finger.  I can carry a bag full of climbing gear, or a bag of heavy shopping, on a finger.  Or several bags of shopping, one on each finger!

That's not to say that your fingers become impervious to harm...

When climbing indoors a lot, we often climb on juggy holds.   "Jugs" is climbing terminology for the easiest sort of holds - they're big, very positive, you can get your fingers right in there (settle down, 'Stina!).   This sort of hold is often used when climbing upside down, or on the ceiling...see Day 8 for an example...

Jugs tend to put a lot of pressure on the skin just below the crease on each finger joint, and callouses develop here. (See my hand in tonight's photo, taken shortly after climbing for four hours).

Anna's middle finger demonstrates the classic "flapper" (down, girl!), where one of these thick callouses gets ripped off, usually when falling off a juggy hold. 

The best solution to this problem is to put some tape over it, and climb on!  (there's a bit of a pun there, for those in the know...)

Superglue can also be helpful, to stick the flap of skin back on again...superglue is remarkable stuff!

(yeah, yeah, I know, developed for use in military field hospitals to stick wounds together, but later found to be carcinogenic, yada yada)!

Anyway, Anna will dispute much of the above, and point out that from her perspective, the skin on your fingers stays mostly vulnerable to soreness and irritation, and rarely toughens up...at least, not without the application of fairly serious chemicals, which can work wonders.

So your mileage may vary.

Handy Hint (do you see what I did there?!) #1 out of a series of 1 (or maybe more):

If you want to develop hands that look like they belong to a gardener or a brick layer or some such, you can do worse than going climbing for a couple of years...

You're welcome.  

;-)

Day 63 - The Red Thing

red on red on red

I've noticed an unexpected trend in my life...the colour red. 

There was a time when my colour was black, although during periods when I was either less depressed, or less cool (dude...), this would fade to blues and greys.   I would reject any clothing that had primary colours, for instance.   

Don't get me wrong, this wasn't some premeditated decision.   It just seemed to be a reflection of the inner me of the time.

Tonight, we were at an engagement party.   As we sat people watching and idly chatting, early in the evening, I mentioned that I was looking for photo opps.  In my mind, this meant looking for interesting, non-posed people shots.   However, Anna pointed out that the table decorations were quite interesting, so I snapped a few different angles to see what I could get.

I quite liked this shot, and it occurred to me then that The Red Thing was cropping up again, unbidden, and almost unnoticed. 

The Red Thing started when I moved into the cottage where I've been for the last 8 years or so.

It was a plain, threadbare little house with nothing warm about it whatsoever...Neither thermally, nor emotionally, nor psychologically.   The walls were pale and bare, as was the carpet.   The only room with any colour was the bathroom, which was a cold, pale, wintry blue. 

Except in the lounge, there was a huge red rug.  

I liked the warmth of it, so when I needed curtains, I got them in a similarly warm terracotta colour.   I also bought some cheap throws from Homebase, in the same sort of shade, and...you know....threw them. 

I say terracotta, everyone else (cough, Anna) seems to think they're red, whereas I see them as clearly burnt orange, not red at all.   I don't know how everyone else can be so wrong.  In the name of truth, I feel obliged to stand alone on this issue, against a spectrally deficient world.

Anyway it was the first time I'd chosen furnishings of my own, to my own taste, and I found it quite liberating.  The lounge now has lots of warm reds, terracottas and oranges.  And everyone seems to find it cosy...so, ya know, Yay Me!  And Anna of course, without whom it would probably just be red,rather than the homely warm room it now is...

Now I find that since starting to buy climbing clothing and equipment 3 years or so ago, probably every other item I've purchased has red on it, or is red, most frequently supplemented with greys and blacks.

So I have red shoes (5 pairs), red T-shirts (half a dozen), red long sleeve T's (3), black tops with red stitching (several).

I have a grey and red harness, a red belay carabiner, a red belay device.

I have black slings with red stitching (approx 5), red cams (2 or 3), red nuts (6 or 8), black and red chalk bag.

I have red rucksacks (2), red fleeces (2), red softshell jackets (2), a black softshell jacket with red stitching, and a red baselayer.

Oh, and a red rope.

And half a dozen red quickdraws.

And a red dry bag.

Hmm now I'm even freaking myself out...

I feel like the old creepy guy who wears too much red. 

Damn that The Red Thing...

Day 62 - Roses are Red, Violets are Blue

most poems rhyme, but this one doesn't

Well, I had to, didn't I?   It is Valentine's Day, after all.

Does everyone else's mind make unexpected connections and then leap off in odd directions, or is that just me?

For some reason, the capitals in Valentine's Day jump out at me and shout, "VD!" in my head.

In my youth, this was short for Venereal Disease, a vague, mysterious ailment that made your bits fall off, or some such unspeakable horror.  Who knew?  All we had were whispers and rumours and bravado and bullshit.  We didn't know our arses from our elbows.  I'm still a bit confused on that one, if I'm honest... 

Nowadays, in my mind, it stands for Very Difficult, or VDiff, which is, of course, a climbing reference.

VDiff is a Trad Climbing grade, and a quirky one at that.

Trad Climbing uses a double graded system to rate the difficulty of a climb.

One of these is the Technical Grade, which indicates how hard the hardest move of the route is, on a numbered scale.

Somewhat more interestingly (fortunately for you) the overall difficulty of the climb is given an Adjectival Grade.  This takes into account factors such as how scary the route is (or how much bravery is required), how dangerous it is (or how much injury is likely in a fall), how long the route is, and so on. 

Adjectival Grades follow a range from Easy, through Moderate, Difficult, Severe and Extreme.   Each of these are subdivided several times, and Extreme climbs are numbered on an open ended scale.  

In reality, anything easier than Difficult can barely be considered a climb...which leads to an apparent contradiction whereby a Difficult climb is in fact about as easy as it gets.

Consequently, Very Difficult is a fairly lowly grade, and is considered entry level.   Many climbers will subconsciously translate Very Difficult into Pretty Easy in their heads.

However, it turns out that many of these climbs were first climbed over the first half of last century, when such climbs were indeed Very Difficult.   The climbs are often fairly safe, but physically hard.   They don't demand much technique (and hence are considered easy), but brute brawn, with a hefty dollop of strenuous grit and determination will often be mandatory. 

Which leads us, yet more confusingly, to an apparent double contradiction, whereby a Very Difficult climb, considered to be Pretty Easy, often turns out to be Very Difficult after all! 

Anna really dislikes VDiffs, and finds climbs in the Severe range to be more consistent, more predictable, and thus, ultimately, easier.

Apropos of nothing, our aim this year is to break into the Extreme grades!

Anyway that's more than you ever wanted to know about British Trad Climbing Grades...

So, where was I?   Oh yes, Happy Valentine's Day, everyone! (in the voice of Professor Hubert J. Farnsworth)

As to who bought the red rose for whom...well, that would be telling...

;-)

Day 61 - Mister God

this is Anna

I thought I was out of the game for a bit there - 11pm and I still hadn't got a picture for the day!

Then my eye fell upon this book that I've been trying to read for a while...and I realised that it's fully deserving of a mention here.

It's the true story (for whatever that's worth) of a mysterious young girl named Anna (aged 4), who comes into the lives of a poor family, with enormous impact.  She has sharp intelligence, and a simple yet incisive view of humanity, society, religion and the world. 

I bought the book for Anna, for fairly obvious reasons.   Anna really enjoyed it and recommended it to me, saying I'd enjoy it too (but also because she wants to talk about it).

I read half of it in one sitting, a couple of months ago, and haven't got back to it since. I've been so busy lately, and I've found that I hesitate to pick it up, fearing I don't have the time to do it justice...and it's not the kind of book I want to rush.

The natural, profound wisdom that emanates from Anna deserves more attention than a fleeting glance.  

Although the book is written in very clear and simple language, it has a warmth and depth that should be savoured, and pondered upon, and mulled over.

Traditionally, when we go to Spain, I read a book each day.  I have no time to indulge ordinarily, and if I get lost in a book, I tend to lose track of time.  Before I know it, I've fallen into a pattern of reading to the exclusion of other things that really do need attention, like eating and sleeping.  

Consequently, I rarely read now when at home (other than the internet, which I think I've nearly finished...).

So a trip to Spain is a welcome luxury in this regard.

Whilst we are planning to climb quite a bit on our imminent holiday, there'll still be downtime.  

Mr God, This is Anna will be a lovely, mellow, thoughtful read between bouts of strenuous activity.

You should read it too, it'll make you rethink one or two things...

Go on, challenge your preconceptions, I dare you...

;-)