Reeve's Roadtrip Blog

Alternative title: Mixed Emotions in The Needles I've written about The Needles not  once , but twice  before. It's one of my favourite places on Earth, blending incredible featured granite, adventure beyond their stature, and a mystical aura further evoked by the names of each formation, such as the Witch, the Warlock, the Magician... It's fair to say, I'm completely bewitched. So when I read that the KNP Complex Wild Fire in 2021 had wreaked devastation across that whole area my heart sank. The road to the camping at the trail head only reopened in May this year, so I was expecting it to look very raw still. Wildfires are actually a normal and healthy part of the forests' life cycle. Tall dense trees stop sunlight penetrating their canopy and reaching the ground, meaning low lying plants (and hence food for animals) don't get a look in. Following a wildfire, these shrubs and plants are usually the first to colonise the now nutrient-rich ground. All the same, a...

I'm completely absorbed, so when Marie comes into the room she catches me off guard. I slam the laptop shut so she can't see, but in doing so I have inadvertently drawn attention to it. "Are you really watching it again?". Her expression is somewhere between disapproval and disgust. "It just came on because of the algorithm!" I exclaim, but my tone is too earnest so it ends up sounding like a bad excuse instead of a reasonable explanation. "What's so special about it" she admonishes me further "the lycra? The jazz-rock? Or the unacknowledged androgyny?" She walks out the room before I can answer.  She must have come in for a good reason, but whatever it was has been left unattended to. I have an urge to call after her, but anything I say now would only make it worse. I sigh, but despite it all I can't help myself. I open the laptop again and wait for the video to buffer, allowing me time to wallow in my shame. It finally loads: Ma...

  2011: around the world in 9 months; 2014: twelve months career break; 2025: here we go again! First stop, California. Great climbing, great weather. Usually. Day 3. We watch the lightning then count six seconds before the thunder. Not far on the other side of the mountain. We've just met Levi at the crag and so far he is topping the charts for the most archetypal American climber we've met (mullet, 'tache, proclivity to say "awesome" at even the most mundane things). Levi tells us that the repeating storm systems are very unusual so we have arrived at a very fortuitous time to be able to see them. Not wishing to disappoint his enthusiasm, I falsify my agreement and set off on a climb, hoping the storm holds off for another ten minutes. It doesn't. The overhanging cliff provides the illusion of shelter for about thirty seconds, during which I have the misguided hope that I might be able to climb despite the rain. Then all hell breaks loose and there's icy...

After gallantly retreating from the Avellano Valley, it was time for Will and John to head for home. Dave and I had another week left in Patagonia and Dave had a suggestion. I was starting to feel pretty burnt out with adventure, having been away from home for 5 months at this point, and so I was looking forward to some nights sleeping that were not in a tent, eating lots of steak, and whacking the thermostat up so that I no longer had to wear multiple layers of coats every evening. Conflicting with this, I also desperately wanted to do some climbing, as the nearest I had come to doing any proper climbing was a bit of ledge shuffling at the bottom of the Avellano Tower. Dave craftily exploited this thread of motivation and suggested that we go for a four day visit to what is colloquially known as The Pyramid (I say colloquially, but what I really mean is that is what Dave John and Jim Donini call it, as they are the only climbers who know about it. The locals undoubtedly call it someth...

I first met Dave about 5 years ago. Our conversation skipped any niceties beyond the briefest of introductions as he cornered me by the desk at the Works and started telling me about a 350m sea cliff off the Shetland Isles that had only seen one ascent. Despite our position causing an obstruction to anyone wanting to actually pay to enter the wall, Dave's description piqued my interest. And I felt slightly intimidated by his wild-eyed gaze, an expression I would come to know all too well. He invited me on holiday with him to try and climb this cliff. Not knowing any better at the time, I took the immediacy of his invitation as a compliment and reciprocated this warmth with hearty agreement. Had I known (or more precisely, had I thought more carefully about this) that this "holiday" would involve climbing the loosest terrain (I can't bring myself to use the term 'rock' here) I have ever encountered, whilst taking direct hits to the face from fulmars, and being ...

A week and a half has passed since we got down. Waiting for my elbow to heal and the weather to cool down. We were in no way certain of trying again when we first got down, but slowly the thought grew into an idea, and then a plan. Yesterday I experienced the now familiar dread and ate too much, and then my alarm woke me at 2am. This time we've packed an extra few litres of water and some food, which allows a contingency day if we need more time on any pitch. And most pertinently, the forecast is about 20 degrees cooler. The familiarity of the first pitches helps speed things up, Freeblast goes smoothly and we both manage the 'hardest move on rock' first go, and make it up to the Monster in good time. Unlike on our last attempt we have plenty of time here, so I eat drink and carefully tape the fresh pink skin on my elbow. On the M.O. Once again, Dan has lead the last 6 pitches and hauled the bags so that I can be fresh. With a certain inevitability, the time comes. ...