Other Realms

There’s an unfortunate interaction between Dan and I, that often happens when we are deciding where to go climbing. He’s better than me, and often wants to do routes that I’m intimidated by. But, here’s the rub, I’m easily persuaded. And I don’t let on that I’m too scared. We chose to try Other Realms on Cilan Head, by which I mean Dan suggested it and I failed to say no.

We’d already failed to access the base of the route last year (which had left me secretly relieved): no sign of the abseil stake and a static rope shorter than the height of the cliff putting paid to that attempt. Dan had slightly more success last weekend with Calum, actually getting to the base and doing the direct first pitch. They were then stopped by the wet second pitch.

On the Friday night, as we were being plied with rose petal wine by our friend Jess, we confidently declined her offer to check the tide times for us. We calculated that the base of the cliff is almost certainly non-tidal. We didn’t feel the need for an early start either. It’s only a three pitch route anyway.

Having sussed the ab point last weekend, I let Dan equalise the half-dozen mediocre pieces whilst I racked up. Dan refused to climb on my set of wires. Where I see as a varied and comprehensive mix of passive protection, Dan sees a tatty bunch of frayed second hand odds and ends. I anticipated his objection, so I dug his wires from his bag. Ironically, they looked no better than mine. Even after combining the best wires from both our motley bunches, we still only had one rock 1 and one rock 7.

We both ab’d down to the start of the route. I had been volunteered to lead the first pitch, given that Dan had already had the pleasure. The straight-forward chimney crack start didn’t warm me up, but this was made up for by the awkward rest before the crux, which did tire me out. Confused by the lack of holds, and completely forgetting Dan’s beta, I fell off. Lowering down, we acknowledged that the sea was starting to come over the top of our supposedly non-tidal ledge. Hmm.

My second go was a mess, as I forgot my own beta before I even got high enough to have the opportunity to mess up Dan’s beta. Lowering off again, I curtailed my rest due to the encroaching tide. Dan relocated his belay to a smaller ledge a few feet higher. At the crux once more, I still can’t make Dan’s beta work, so I improvise. An unlikely rockover leads me to the jug and the end of the good rock. The remaining few scary pulls are made easier by the presence of Dan’s week-old chalk.

Having arrived at the stance, I struggle to find enough decent runners. Eventually I settle for a wire, a cam, an in-situ wire and the ab-rope. Dan joins me and points out that I should be 10 feet lower, so if he falls off the next pitch he won’t land on me. And I’d be able to stand on a nicer ledge, out the way of falling rock. With better gear for the stance. Feeling defensive because of my own stupidity, I try to argue the point. But the in-situ wire I’m hanging off snaps, which kind of takes the wind out of my sails. It seems to take ages to fix my mistake, which is even more frustrating for Dan who just wants to get stuck into pitch two. Eventually, with the cluster-fuck mostly resolved and me at the lower stance, Dan begins pitch two.

Dan gets regular gear, and from my (now comfy) perch, the holds look like jugs. From the slowness of his movements however, I infer the gear isn’t very good, and the jugs are all loose. He arrives just below the crux overlap, which guards access to the groove above. Despite lacing his highpoint with gear, Dan is evidently having a hard time committing to the crux. I suspect that this has something to do with a loose looking block that he keeps on hitting to test. It doesn’t escape my notice that the same block has half of his gear behind it, and provides two essential holds. Eventually, Dan decides that today is not the day. Tentatively, he weights gear on both ropes whilst still holding on with both hands. Slowly at first, he commits his weight to the ropes and lowers back to the stance.

I know what’s coming, and I’m dreading it. Dan offers me the lead. And With me being how I am, I again fail to say no. Dan suggests that if I get stuck at the overlap, he can swing the ab rope towards me and I can bring out the prussiks. Suitably encouraged by this escape plan, I take the rack and prepare to set off. Just as I’m ready to leave the stance, Dan turns to me and says “there’s a vital piece of information that I’ve not shared with you about this route”
“Oh yeah?” Maybe this is going to be good news.
“When Caff did this he found it hard and thinks its E7.” My heart sank.

Suitably discouraged, I leave the stance. The difficulties are never too great, but this is compensated for by the rock, which is never too good either. To my benefit however, Dan had left me a trail of gear which gently coaxed me upwards. On this style of terrain, where every move on dodgy holds requires a real commitment, the gear (mediocre it may be, but averaging one piece every two feet) and the chalk makes a massive difference. I arrived at the pre-crux rest without having done anything too stressful, having basically piggy-backed off Dan’s efforts. I extend the gear in the suspect block so I it looks useful but is almost redundant. And I’ve just watched Dan lower off the cam on the other rope. Sure, it’s only on three lobes, but I find strength in the fact that three is one more than two. I procrastinate until boredom exceeds anxiety, and thus find the impetus to carry on. The moves into the groove go easier than I’d expected, if a little scruffily. The ledge that Dan has promised will offer post-crux salvation appears ready to fall off the cliff, but as recompense I find some decent small cam slots.

The guidebook description doesn’t really say anything about the upper part of the pitch, merely “carry on up the line”. So I assume it will be easy. In many ways this was correct. Unfortunately, the rock quality deteriorated to archetypal Lleyn standards so in actual fact it’s kind of the crux. I move upwards exceptionally slowly, thinking lightweight thoughts, separated by even longer periods spent refusing to move.

Sometime later, I made it to the second stance. Dan joined me and lead through onto easy ground. I imagine his enjoyment of the final section choss-eering can only have been heightened by the passing of a quick rain shower, as otherwise it would have been boring, right?

We got back to the bags at eight pm, half a day after having left them. Starving and parched, Dan suggested we stop for lunch.