I’ve been climbing at the Roaches many times and never bothered to look at the other climbing venues just next door.  The Roaches is just so big and has so much great climbing that I never felt the need.  I did some brilliant bouldering there on Saturday, climbing problems I had wanted to do for a while and pushing my grade a little.  Unfortunately,  the weather forecast for Sunday morning showed that it would begin and end with showers (plus “the chance of thunder”).  I therefore looked through my guidebook for a bouldering venue with a very short walk-in so that I could walk-out quickly if need be and I found Newstones.  It’s a small series of boulders and little buttresses a few miles from the Roaches.  The rock has great friction and some strange veins running through it that I’ve never seen before on gritstone and which made for sharp edges and flakes.  This helped make the bouldering interesting, varied and fun.  Despite the great climbing and a pleasant location, Max and I had the place to ourselves the whole time we were there.

This weekend showed me that the big climbing venues are brilliant, but that I need to flick through the pages of my guidebooks more.

It was a fantastic coincidence. I was due to go on a weekend climbing trip to North Wales and on the Monday before my trip the new North Wales Bouldering guidebook was published. I’d been waiting a long time for this book.

The first edition had been out of print for years and it seemed that only the quick and lucky (and possibly wealthy) could buy a 2nd hand copy. From reading the periodic UKClimbing threads asking when the next edition would be published, I had the tantalising impression that the reason the second edition was still not available was because the author, Simon Panton, just kept finding more and more bouldering delights in North Wales that he could not leave out. I had been making do with the bouldering sections in Climbers Club guidebooks and in Boulder Britain, but what they covered felt meagre compared to the amount of rock in North Wales. It felt like I was missing out because I just did not know where the best bouldering is. I was therefore delighted when I found out the new edition was coming and that I would have a chance to put it to use so soon.

When North Wales Bouldering arrived in the post it was obvious why it had taken so long to write and what an amazing achievement it is. It’s a huge 667 pages crammed with over 4,000 problems. There are so many problems in this guidebook that there isn’t space for an index and there is only a brief introduction with neatly summarised information. This guidebook includes the essentials of what you need to go bouldering and little else. One little extra that is included, and which I really like, are small sections spread throughout the book with information about the geology, natural environment and history of the area immediately around the bouldering. These are fascinating snippets that can give you a bit more perspective and understanding of the area you are climbing in. As these sections have the National Trust symbol next to them, I presume that this is who wrote them.

Like most climbing guidebooks, North Wales Bouldering is organised by broad geographic areas. Each area receives a brief description of the bouldering, approach and conditions as well as a clear, simple map. Each of these areas is then grouped into smaller bouldering areas that get similar descriptions but with slightly more detail. It’s a shame that there is no destination planner of the sort that feature in other guidebooks and which provide a neat summary of each bouldering area over a couple of pages. These make planning a climbing trip easier (particularly if you are just coming for the weekend) and would certainly help navigate this very large guidebook.

The photos of the bouldering areas and the photo topos of the boulders themselves are excellent. Each problem also gets a good, succinct summary of the line. There are amazing and inspiring photos of bouldering throughout. The layout is also clear and easy to follow.

I found using this guidebook last weekend both a joy and a bit of a disappointment. I discovered fun and interesting bouldering that I had never known about and would probably never have found out about without this guidebook. However, I also found that North Wales Bouldering can only give me a limited supply of this bouldering. This is because only a small proportion of the 4,000 problems in this book are at the easier grades that I currently boulder outside. There are few problems with the UK technical grades 3 and 4 and the lack of a destination planner or index means that you have to search through the book to find them. I’d have to study this guidebook in a lot more detail to be absolutely sure, but it feels like most of the easier problems described are at the RAC Boulders, in the Llanberis Pass and in the Ogwen Valley.

I’m disappointed that North Wales Bouldering doesn’t copy the format of books like Rockfax’s Peak Bouldering with its green circuits of easier problems. It’s possible that bouldering in North Wales is mostly hard stuff and so my disappointment should be about what is available rather than the contents of the book. However, I’m sceptical that there is not more, easier bouldering available in such a large, rock-filled area as North Wales.

Perhaps strangely, my other disappointment of last weekend was that I didn’t get to use North Wales Bouldering more. It rained most of Saturday morning and so hung out in Llanberis waiting for the rain to stop. I then spent some time hunting around for places that weren’t getting the remaining showers and where there was enough dry rock to climb on. Thankfully, I did find places to boulder on Saturday while on Sunday it was dry and often sunny. I ended up having a good weekend doing some great bouldering in some fantastic locations. I wouldn’t have had quite the same weekend without North Wales Bouldering and I’m really pleased that I have a copy. I want to put it to use again soon.

Why does the best weather always seem to happen the weekend before I go on a climbing trip?  Sunshine, clear skies and low winds bless the destinations of my long-planned climbing trips on the weekends before I try to go climbing.  The weather forecasters often refer to “unseasonably good weather” when talking about those weekends, before going on to say “but the weather will change mid-week.”  This means that by the time I try to go climbing the weather is rainy, unsettled, changeable or in some other way not really ideal for rock climbing.  That preceding weekend feels like a teaser of what might have been.  It makes not being able to climb because it’s raining that little bit more annoying.

This is what happened last weekend.  A weekend of good weather in the Peak District was followed by an intermittently rainy weekend.  After a couple of abortive attempts, Leo and I managed to get about two and a half hours of bouldering done on the Saturday before being rained off.  On the Sunday we had a relaxed start while we waited for it to stop raining and were rewarded with a break in the rain for a while, but the rock was too wet to climb and we went for a potter along Curbar Edge instead.  It was fun, but it was also a bit frustrating at times too and it would have been more fun if we had got a full weekend of climbing in.

It’s been a year since I climbed on real rock and six months since the accident.  After lots of physio exercises, surgery and weekly sessions at climbing walls to remind my body how to climb, last weekend I finally got back to climbing outside.  It brought a smile to my face and reminded me of why I love to climb.

The accident was stupid. One of those seemingly minor things that have surprisingly big consequences.  All I did was slip on some mud when walking in the Brecon Beacons. My right foot flew out from under me and I started travelling down the slope, but my left foot stayed behind.  I ended up landing on my back with my left leg bent and twisted under me.  After I picked myself up, I walked the three miles back to the bunk house with my knee making the sort of loud cracking noises it really shouldn’t make.  It turned out I had torn the meniscus in my knee. The one, small advantage of having this particular injury was that I’d torn the meniscus in my other knee a few years previously and so knew what to expect.

Six months later and I was ready to try climbing outdoors again.  My plan was a gentle introduction involving easy problems, over good landings and backing off if a move felt like it would be too much strain on my knee.  My hope was that the weather would let me climb at all as it feels like I get rained off a lot.  In the end, the weather on Saturday was fantastic.  I climbed on easy problems at Curbar in the Peak District in bright sunshine.  It felt good to be outside, working out moves, feeling the rock under my fingers, and putting in the effort to top-out.  It also felt brilliant to complete problems that I didn’t think I would be able to with my rusty technique.

The next day I headed to Burbage South.  The sun didn’t shine on me that day and I ended up giving up on a few problems that I could have done a year ago.  However, I was pleased that I got up one challenging arete and did a couple of other tricky problems (albeit with a complete lack of elegance).

The weekend reminded me that I have more to do to get back to where I was, but also why I’m doing climbing at all.

Rock climbers are advised to work on their weaknesses in order to get better.  The trouble is, since my injury, I’ve had quite a few weaknesses.

A piece of advice that I’ve read in lots of different places is that you should work at getting better at the things you are weak at if you want to become a better rock climber. The thinking behind this is that people tend to avoid the things they’re not very good at.  A lack of practice means that you don’t get better at the thing they’re shunning and so continue to avoid it.  In rock climbing, you could be avoiding something because you find it’s too physically hard and/or you cannot master the technique.  For the first few years after I started climbing my particular weakness was smearing.  It felt insecure, unnatural and unsafe.  So, I tried to climb routes using as little smearing as possible. This was a bit of a challenge as I was doing a lot of gritstone climbing at the time.  However, somewhere along the way I did enough smearing to get the hang of it.  It went from being unnerving, to being another useful way of getting up a climb, to being fun.  I now really enjoy smearing up a featureless gritstone slab.

This is why I try to follow the advice about working on your weaknesses.  Every time I go to the climbing wall I do a few overhanging problems specifically because I know I find them difficult.  The challenge I have at the moment is that the number and intensity of my weaknesses has increased.  The amount of time I took off climbing because of my injury (and the resulting surgery) has made me less physically strong, and made my climbing technique blunt and rusty.  I’ve been working on these weaknesses with physio exercises and trips to the climbing wall.   It’s only recently that I’ve felt able to work on them in the outdoors as well.

Last Saturday the first weaknesses I worked on was rusty technique.  However, I tried to start easily by climbing a few nice gritstone slabs at Stanage.  Despite a few slips, my smearing was better than my last trip to the Peak District a few weeks ago.  It felt like the bigger challenge was trying to stop my bouldering mats from blowing away in the strong winds.

The next weakness I tried to work on was dynos.  During repeated attempts at a problem on the Lone Boulder, I managed to tap the hold, but not actually hold it.  This was a pure problem of technique, as I failed to coordinate my legs and stretched arm. Seeing the other people I was climbing with all make the move effortlessly helped me because I could see what could be done.  They had simply worked on these moves more than me.  So, next time I’m bouldering at Stanage Plantation, I will try that problem again.

Although I’d been climbing in the last few months, something I hadn’t done since I had injured myself was going mountain walking.  I’d hurt myself on a stupid slip on some mud in the Brecon Beacons and hadn’t done any walking in the hills or mountains since.  Partly that was because I needed recovery time and partly because I needed to build my strength up after the surgery.  It was also because walking down stairs had hurt quite a bit until fairly recently, and so descending a mountain hadn’t seemed like a good idea.  However, with my legs getting stronger, less pain and rain making bouldering impossible, on Sunday I didn’t really have any excuse for not working on this particular weakness.

I did a gentle walk from Ladybower Reservoir up onto Derwent Moor, passing the brilliant balancing rocks of the Wheel Stones, and then along to White Tor.  At that point I decided not to push it too much and came back.  Although I found the ascent harder work than I would have done nine months ago, it was the descent that concerned me more.  I spent more time focusing on carefully navigating patches of mud than I normally do, and focusing on how my knees felt. It felt good to get back without any problems.  I even got a reward on the way down when with the clouds lifted to show the shores of Ladybower Reservoir and the surrounding hills in Autumn colours.  There’s still a lot of work I’ve got to do, but rewards like that make it easier.

My hands dry out really easily after climbing and in cold weather (two things that often go together in the UK).  This means that I’m always interested in hand care products for climbers.  When I came across adverts for KletterRetter hand cream, I decided to give it a go.

KletterRetter is German made and has been selling there since 2013.  It relatively recently started being sold in the UK.  The name apparently roughly translates into English as “climbing saver.”  The makers say that:

“KletterRetter is a fast absorbing, non-greasy hand cream to care for your skin after climbing. The special formula has been developed by experts and tested by climbers to help your skin quickly regenerate. With KletterRetter your hands are always ready for another day of climbing.”

The ingredients

KletterRetter has quite a long lot of ingredients compared with many of the other balms and moisturisers I’ve tried.  These ingredients are:

• Aqua
• Isopropyl palmitate
• Glycerine
• Cetyl alcohol
• Panthenol
• Myristyl alcohol
• Trilaureth-4 phosphate
• Glyceryl stearate citrate
• Dimethicone
• Cera microcristallina
• Cetearyl glucoside
• Parfum
• Rthylhexylglycerin
• Sodium citrate
• Tetrasodium glutamate diacetate
• Glycine soya oil
• Ectoin
• Retinyl palmitate
• Helianthus annuus seed oil
• Citric acid c
• Calendula officinalis flower extract
• Sodium hydroxide
• Tocopherol
• Caprylyl glycol
• Phenoxyethanol
• Limonene

I don’t have a degree in chemistry and so most of these ingredients are not familiar to me. However, I do recognise the first one. I always think it’s a little amusing that companies prefer to refer to water as “aqua” on the ingredients lists of their products.  Presumably this is because they think it’s harder to sell cosmetics if the largest single ingredient is water (even if it’s purified water and it’s essential for making the product work).

The second ingredient is isopropyl palmitate.  I had to Google this to understand what it is.   Isopropyl palmitate is a chemical compound of isopropyl alcohol and palmitic acid (a saturated fatty acid).  It’s a common agent in skincare products as it’s a moisturiser, emollient and thickening agent.

After this comes glycerine (AKA glycerol or glycerin).  This is a humectant.  This means that it locks moisture in the skin, and, by absorbing water, it’s hydrating for the skin.  It also carries other ingredients into the skin.  Look on the back of a lot of skin creams and shaving creams you will find glycerine is one of the ingredients

Next in the list is cetyl alcohol.  This is a fatty alcohol that is used in cosmetics as an emollient or thickening agent.

These are the ingredients that make up the higher proportions of KletterRetter, but it’s panthenol, calendula oil and ectoin that the makers emphasise as the active ingredients. This is what the KletterRetter website has to say about these ingredients.

“Panthenol (Vitamin B5):KletterRetter gets its anti-inflammatory and wound-healing properties from panthenol. The unique properties contained in panthenol increase your skin’s ability to hold moisture, which means you can stay at the wall for longer.

Calendula oil: KletterRetter cares for your skin with calendula oil. Calendula oil contains anti-inflammatory and skin care properties that support and accelerate the regeneration of your skin after a hard climbing session.

Ectoin: With ectoin, KletterRetter strengthens your skin’s natural protective layer thereby supporting existing natural protection measures.”

The website also states that KletterRetter is vegan and not tested on animals.

What it’s like to use

KletterRetter is a white cream contained in a squeezable tube, with a flip-top lid.

It absorbs into the skin very quickly.  This sets KletterRetter apart from climbing balms based on beeswax and is probably its biggest selling point.  Even the best beeswax-based balm will leave your hands shiny, oily/greasy for a few minutes after it’s been applied.  This isn’t necessarily an issue unless you want to use your smart phone or touch anything else that you don’t want to leave fingerprints on.  KletterRetter is absorbed almost immediately, leaving your hands nicely moisturised and feeling good.

Another good feature of KletterRetter is that you only need to use a small amount to get this effect. If you use too much, then it leaves your hands greasy.

The makers describe KletterRetter as having a “discreet, natural forest scent”.  I think that’s a pretty accurate description.  It’s a pleasant smell that I think few, if any, people would dislike.

My main criticism of KletterRetter is that the moisturising effect doesn’t last that long when compared to a beeswax balm.  That’s meant that I’ve tended to use KletterRetter when I want to apply something quickly and don’t want my hands to get oily.  If I’m going to use something to really treat my hands and don’t want to have to re-apply something soon, then I’ll use a beeswax balm instead.

The scores

I’ve reviewed quite a few balms and moisturisers now, and have used the same scoring system to make it easier to compare them.  This gives a score out of 10 for each of the following factors, with 10 being the best and 1 the worst.

Application – how easy the product is to apply to the hands.

Absorbency – how quickly the product absorbs into the skin and/or stops leaving your hands feeling oily or greasy.

Longevity – how long the product keeps your hands feeling nice and moisturised.

Smell – this is my estimation of how pleasant, or not, the product smells. It’s a pretty subjective measure, but it’s important, as your hands may smell of a balm for a while after it’s put on.

On this basis, I give KletterRetter the following scores.

Application: 10
Absorbency: 10
Longevity: 3
Smell: 9
Total: 32

Conclusion

KletterRetter absorbs very rapidly and is easy to apply.  It has a pleasant smell.  KletterRetter is great if you need something to quickly and easily moisturise your hands after climbing, but you might be better off with a beeswax balm if you want something that lasts longer.

With a knee injury (and resultant surgery) I didn’t get out as much as I would have liked in 2018.  But I still had some great days climbing and walking.  These photos give a sense of days.

I climbed around the rain this weekend.  Rain often either forces me to not go climbing at all, or forces me to finish climbing before I’m ready.  This weekend looked like it was going to go that way again when it started raining after I had only done two problems at Stanage Far Right.  It was particularly annoying as rain (and snow) had stopped me climbing in North Yorkshire a couple of months ago, and for some time I’d been wanting to go back to Stanage Far Right to see if I could finish the green circuit.

The far right hand end of Stanage is a brilliant place for easier bouldering.  The problems are varied, interesting and (usually) above good landings.  The views are brilliant.  It’s also only a ten minute walk from the car parking (which is a definite plus when there’s a chance you might get rained off). Despite this, it’s always been very quiet when I’ve been.  Last weekend I only met three other boulderers the whole time I was there.  The advantages of it being so overlooked are that the rock isn’t polished, and there’s no waiting to climb like there can be elsewhere at Stanage.

I was certainly the only boulderer there on Saturday morning huddling under an overhang (that was not as overhanging as I wanted in heavy rain and gusty winds).  As I pulled on my waterproofs, I optimistically thought I could wait it out as rain hadn’t been forecast.  But the rain kept coming, and I decided going gear shopping was a better use of my time.  I felt slightly disappointed as I trudged back to the car.

That afternoon the clouds broke up and sun started coming through.  I headed back up to Stanage Far Right, and had a probably the most productive afternoon I have ever had climbing in the Peak.  I did lots of problems, pushed my grade a bit and had fun.  I was surprised and pleased it had worked out.

Unfortunately, Sunday’s forecast was for showers increasing in frequency and intensity throughout the morning.  Not great, but I took a chance that the rain might stay off long enough for me to get a few problems done at Curbar Edge.  The Little Quarry area there has an even shorter walk in than Stanage Far Right, and so is perfect for chancing a climb on a showery day.  I had also been wanting to climb a problem there called Fishy for a while, so I was really pleased that I managed to climb it just before a heavy shower hit.

I made a quick getaway, and ate lunch in my car while I worked out what to do next.  It stopped raining shortly after lunch, and I began to wonder if I could sneak in a little bit more climbing.  The rain radar on the Met Office’s weather app showed I had about an hour to two hours before the rain came back, so I rushed down to Curbar Fields.  I got one more problem done before it really started raining and I stopped climbing for the weekend.  I left feeling happy that I’d managed to fit in so much.

The other weekend I fell off more than usual.  I’ll have a go at harder problems every time I go bouldering as a way of trying to improve my climbing.  About a third of the time I complete the problem, another third of the time I fall off every time, and the remaining third I’m just baffled about how to actually do the climb.  However, this time, I fell just off again and again.

I’d decided to go bouldering at the Pinnacle Boulders at Froggart Edge because it has a mix of easier problems (described as ideal “starting points for the beginner” in the Rockfax Peak Bouldering guide), and problems at the high end of what I can climb on gritstone.  I thought that I could warm up and practice movement on the easier problems, and then progressively push my grade on the harder problems.

The first part of this plan worked.  I had fun climbing some interesting and easy problems.  Then I switched on the harder problems, and began to fall off.  For example, I came off the problem The Northerner (V2 5c) repeatedly.  I kept going because it’s a stimulating problem, and I felt I was close to completing the crux move.  But, in the end, I decided to climb something else because too much of my fingertips was getting left behind each time I slipped off.

I managed to avoid becoming frustrated at all this falling off by continuing to remind myself that I was probably learning something each time I failed.  I also reminded myself that I had managed to get up one problem I found challenging – Starter Motor (V1 5b).  This helped me to enjoy myself, and so come away at the end of the day tired, scraped and sweaty, but still satisfied.

I couldn’t actually find the boulders.  I walked back and forth along the same stretch of grassy ridge looking at the boulders scattered around me, trying to find one that matched the photos in my new guidebook.  If I could find the Ridge Stone boulder, then I could orientate myself and get on the right track.  But in the mist it wasn’t easy to work out which rock was which.  I felt certain I’d missed the path to Boulder Valley shown in the guidebook, and so had ended up walking too far up the ridge.  The Ridge Stone was shown in the guidebook’s map as being after the start of the path I wanted.  I reasoned that if I found the Ridge Stone, I would know for sure I had gone too far. I looked again at a tall boulder sitting just to the side of the path, trying to work out if its shape matched that of the boulder shown in my book.  The whole situation felt ridiculous.  I felt ridiculous.  I was walking about in the mist, on the first day of a bouldering trip to the Lake District, unable to find the boulders I’d come all this way to climb.

This was a trip I’d been looking forward to for a while. A new guidebook to bouldering in the Lake District had come out a few months ago after years in development.  It contained 3,000 boulder problems over 70 venues.  I’d spent a fair bit of time studying this guidebook, working out where I wanted to climb, planning, and getting excited about going to places I’d not climbed before. As my trip got closer and closer, I was also delighted to see the weather forecast was for sun and clear skies for the first few days I’d be away.

By the time I parked at the rough car park on the slopes of the Old Man of Coniston on my first day of climbing, the cloud was low and it was lightly raining.  The forecast said it would clear up later, and so I was optimistic of a good day as I headed out for Boulder Valley.  The guidebook showed Boulder Valley as a spread-out boulder field in the Coniston Coppermines Valley, in the shadow of the Old Man of Coniston.  The mountain setting, with a good selection of lower grade problems, made it look great as a first day venue.

I’d followed the instructions and map in the guidebook past the Pudding Stone (which would have been hard to miss as it’s as big as a house) and across a stream by a bridge that I could only just squeeze across with a bouldering pad on my back.  Now, I was on the low ridge on the other side of the bridge, and beginning to feel less puzzled.  The cloud began to break-up, and I got more and bigger glimpses of Boulder Valley below me.  I walked around the tall boulder, and studied my guidebook.  I decided that this was the Ridge Stone, and that the dotted line marked in the guidebook didn’t necessarily mean an actual path on the ground.  I went back towards the bridge, and then headed off in the direction I thought the path would take.  The faintest of sheep tracks then got me close enough to see what the guidebook called Boulder 1.

Boulder Valley turned out to be the most peaceful and relaxing place I’ve ever climbed.  It was still and quiet, apart for the sound of a waterfall.  The only people about were infrequent walkers who passed by on the ridge I had been wandering around on.  To find somewhere that tranquil on a popular mountain in the Lake District, in the week of the August Bank Holiday, was pretty amazing.

The rock was surprisingly rough, with a mix of small holds, rounded edges and occasional cracks.  I found the climbing fairly technical.  I like technical climbing and did a few really enjoyable problems.  I also found the climbing pretty hard, and gave up on a couple of problems as I simply couldn’t work out how to do them.  That might have been because it was a rock type I’d not climbed on in a while, or because it was the first day of the holiday and I wasn’t in the swing of things yet.  I was certainly climbing better by the end of the trip.

The sun also did come out in the end, and I enjoyed great views of the Old Man of Coniston and Brim Fell.

The first day of my Lake District climbing trip ended up being a strange mix of weather, as well as frustration and tranquillity, but ultimately a good day of climbing.

Longsleddale was the one place I really wanted to go on my bouldering trip to the Lake District.  Some people might think it a bit strange to prioritise the Settle Earth Boulders in Longsleddale over destination bouldering venues in the Lakes like St Bees or Langdale.  But I wanted to go as I knew that Longsleddale is beautiful and tranquil, and, after reading the new Lake District Bouldering guide, I’d learned that it also has a great lower-grade bouldering circuit.

I’ve been to the Lake District many, many times, but didn’t know about Longsleddale until a few years ago.  I was staying in Kentmere and hoping to go bouldering on the famous Badger Rock.  On-off rain meant that I’d given up on that idea for the day and had gone for a walk instead.  The walk took me into the upper part of the next valley.  This was Longsleddale, and walking through it was the highlight of my day. A lovely, quiet valley of grassy fields and drystone walls, with a river snaking down it, and surrounded at its head by rocky fells.  It felt like the Lake District at its best.

My drive into Longsleddale took a fair bit longer than my walk over from Kentmere had that day.  I had to drive out of the central Lakes to Kendal, and then take the A6 towards Penrith, before turning off on to a single-track road.  This wound its way (and it seemed like a long way) along Longsleddale until the asphalt road ended at the hamlet of Sadgill.  The road was replaced by a rocky track, and it was this that I walked along to get to the boulders.

The Settle Earth Boulders are spread out over a grassy slope, at the bottom end of an old scree field, at the head of the valley. I could see them in the distance soon after I started up the track.  It was a gentle climb through pretty scenery.  The sun was shining and the heat seemed to be building in the shelter of the valley. It was a pleasant walk, but I had a nagging worry about how to actually get to the boulders.  I had to cross the River Sprint, and I wasn’t too sure how easy this would be with my bouldering pads and my bag.  It turned out to be fine.  I left the track at a gate in the wall, and followed a faint, boggy track to the river. After wandering back and forth along the river for a few minutes, I decided on the best-looking section of rocks for rock hopping.  I then ferried my pads across, before returning for my bag and crossing again.

A bigger obstacle was the barbed wire topped fence that separated me from the boulders.  It’s not mentioned in the guidebook, although, to be fair, I would have realised it was there if I had looked at the photos more carefully as it is visible in some of them.  I found what looked like the lowest section of fence, and threw my pads over.  I then followed; being thankful that I have long legs.

The Settle Earth Boulders are in an absolutely stunning location.  I had views down the valley and of the fells, with the only noise for most of the day being the waterfalls on the River Sprint.  Only a handful of walkers (and a couple of guys on motorbikes) went up the track while I was there.  I found the climbing much more straightforward than I had the day before in the Coppermines Valley.  There was also a good variety of technical slab climbing and sharp cracks.  The climbing put a grin on my face.

The one problem that I just could not work out was Jacko Slab. The guidebook described it as a “fine problem” and gave it a star.  However, despite it being just a 3+, I couldn’t get more than a couple of moves off the ground. It was one of those problems where I got to a certain point and then simply couldn’t see what to do.  I kept feeling that, at the grade, there ought to be another hold somewhere.  What there was instead was a gentle bump/raised area on the slab with chalk across the top edge.  In the middle of this bump was an area of unweathered rock where a piece had broken off the boulder. After trying all sorts of different combinations of moves, I decided this fresh bit of rock was where the crucial hold had been.  This might not be entirely true – but it was a good way of making sure I didn’t feel frustrated about not being able to get up something.

Everything else, I managed to complete.  I left feeling happy and satisfied after several hours of good bouldering in a fantastic location.

I’ve been wanting to climb on the Langdale Boulders for years.  Ever since I moved from mostly climbing trad to mostly bouldering, they have been on my list of places to climb.  Famous, iconic and right in the heart of one of the Lake District’s most beautiful valleys.  The Langdale Boulders are one of those places I’d seen pictured in climbing magazines, in guidebooks, and on the wall of the café in one of my local bouldering walls.  My climbing trip to the Lakes gave me the perfect opportunity to go.  A weather forecast of intermittent showers on my last day of the trip also meant that climbing at a venue with a two-minute walk-in seemed like a sensible idea.

The Langdale Boulders really didn’t disappoint.  A gorgeous location, with views of the fells, and entertaining climbing.  There was a great crack climb on the Top Block that I really enjoyed, and a tricky blunt arete on the Bottom Block that I was pleased with myself for completing.

The one downside to my visit was that a few of the easier problems were still damp from earlier rain, and so I ran out of problems to try in my grade range.  I decided to head over to the Blake Rigg Boulders in Little Langdale.

Unlike the Langdale Boulders, this is somewhere I’d not heard of before reading the guidebook, but the guidebook description was appealing. It describing the Blake Rigg Boulders as a minor, but easily accessible circuit, in a scenic location, with good landings, low-grade problems, and rough rock.  I found that was true.

Getting to the Blake Rigg Boulders involved the (sometimes steep) drive to the car park by Blea Tarn on the broad saddle between Great Langdale and Little Langdale.  I then walked around the bottom edge of Blea Tarn, with its great views of Pike of Blisco. The bouldering is on two boulders a few minutes’ walk south of the tarn.  One boulder sits on a rise on one side of a stream, while the other sits on a rise on the other side.  I chose the East boulder because it looked slightly easier to get to.  It was a great boulder of rough rock, with a really fun problem going up its stubby nose.

I might have tried out the West Boulder, but the wind was getting strong enough to lift my main bouldering pad off the ground and it was starting to rain.  I quickly packed up my stuff and headed back to the car, pausing occasionally to enjoy the views.

Sometimes rain on a climbing trip can be good thing.  A couple of weeks ago, rain forced me to give up on climbing at The Roaches and instead go for a walk in the surrounding countryside.  It turned out to be a great walk, going to places I had never been and seeing some fantastic sights.  I hiked over Hen Cloud, past The Roaches, through the chasm of Lud’s Church, along the pretty River Dane, under The Hanging Stone, and back along the whole length of the Roaches ridge.  The best bit was the amazing, clear views from The Roaches once the rain and cloud had cleared.

The next day was bright and clear, and so I got my chance to go climbing.  I went bouldering for the first time at The Attic and The Cellar. These areas are hidden away at the top of the Upper Tier of The Roaches.  They were sheltered and quiet, and a great place for some relaxing Sunday bouldering.

A little over a year ago I returned to climbing outside after surgery on my knee.  It felt absolutely great to be climbing again, but I knew I still had a way to get my strength and technique back to what they were.  I did a lot better that weekend than I thought I might, but I did feel disappointed to not get up some problems.  So last weekend I returned to Burbage to try those problems again.

I’d particularly wanted to climb the problems on the That Little Piglet boulder.  I’m usually good at climbing slabs, but I’d been baffled by how to get up two low grade, slab problems on this boulder the last time I was there. This time, I succeeded in doing one of them – topping out with a big grin.  The other one was too green from recent rain, and so will have to wait for another time.

Another problem that will have to wait for another day (as possibly some beta from someone) is Right Whale on The Whale boulder.  I spent a fair bit of time at the same, middle-height break on that boulder trying to work out how to move higher, and completely puzzled as to what to do.

The winds were so high the next day that my bouldering pads would have flown across the hills if I’d tried to go climbing, so I decided to do a low level walk north of Hathersage.  I thought this would just be a potter through some fields, but it turned out to a great walk.  The sun shone, there were some brilliant views of Stanage, and, best of all, there were interesting ruins to explore.  I was surprised to find the ruins of an old mill, with a large mill pond held back by a gritstone wall and being fed by channels from Hood Brook.  It reminded me that you can still make fascinating discoveries in areas that you think you know well.

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Quite a few people responded to my earlier reviews of hand balms for climbers by raving about Joshua Tree Climbing Salve, and suggesting I give it a go.  Unfortunately, it wasn’t sold in the UK.  Relatively recently a few places have started stocking it.  Over the last year I’ve been using Joshua Tree Climbing Salve to look after my hands after climbing indoors and outdoors, as well as after lots of handwashing.   While it’s a good balm that I keep coming back to, I’ve found that Joshua Tree Climbing Salve doesn’t quite live up to all the great things I’ve heard about it.

What is it?

Joshua Tree states on its website that:

“JTree salve is an organic, unscented, skin-healer that is effective in treating flappers, gobis, blown tips, scrapes, cuts, and abrasions. Created using a blend of essential oils, freshly extracted from the finest organic herbs, JTree Salve moisturizes and promotes healing without softening calluses that the body produces for protection.”

Essentially, Joshua Tree Climbing Salve is golden/amber-coloured, shiny cream.  It comes in a plastic tub, which means it’s easy to get the cream out of by scrapping some up with your thumb nail, or by picking up some up on the end of your finger.

Joshua Tree Climbing Salve is surprisingly soft for something in which the primary ingredient is beeswax.  Almost all of the other beeswax-based based climbers balms I’ve tried have been more solid, waxy pucks.  I’m guessing that Joshua Tree Climbing Salve is made softer by increasing the proportion of oil in it.  All of the other ingredients in Joshua Tree Climbing Salve are oils, with sunflower seed oil and Jojoba seed oil being the ones that immediately follow beeswax in the ingredients list.  After this are lavender and tea tree oils, and then calendula officinalis (marigold), symphytum officinale (comfrey), echinacea, larrea tridentate, myrrh, and benzoin styrax.

Beeswax is used so much in climbing balms as it’s a natural humectant, acting to draw moisture from the air into the skin and locking it there. Beeswax is also said to be anti-inflammatory, anti-bacterial and anti-allergenic, as well as being a germicidal antioxidant and source of Vitamin A.

Joshua Tree provides the following explanation on its website of the benefits of the other ingredients.

“Calendula: A wound healing herb that reduces inflammation of infected and irritated skin. Comfrey: An herb that reduces pain and promotes healing by forming a protective surface over wounds. Echinacea: An herb containing anti-bacterial and anti-inflammatory properties that aids in fighting infections and promotes healing. Wildcrafted Chaparral: An herbal antibiotic containing antioxidants and antiseptic properties that decreases inflammation and wards off infection. Myrrh Gum: A resin extracted from tree sap that contains strong disinfectant properties used to heal wounds. Benzoin Gum: A resin extracted from the bark of trees that contains antiseptic properties to heal wounds and antioxidants that prevent infection. Tea Tree Oil: Fights infections acne and insect bites. Lavender OIl: Heals wounds, burns and prevents scarring. Jojoba Oil: A liquid wax extracted from the seeds of jojoba trees that provides lasting moisture for skin.”

What’s it like?

Joshua Tree Climbing Salve is easy to spread evenly over your hands.  Unfortunately, it is not quickly absorbed into the skin.

Most climbing balms leave a residue on your hands that leaves them feeling oily, waxy or greasy for a few minutes.  Reducing how much balm you apply usually makes a difference to whether this happens, or how long it happens for.  However, it can be a matter of balancing putting enough balm on to properly cover your hands, against putting on so much that you leave oily fingerprints on whatever you touch.  With Joshua Tree Climbing Salve it’s hard to get this balance right.  It leaves my hands oily for quite a few minutes after I’ve applied it.  The only balm that I’ve found worse in this respect is Metolius Climber’s Hand Repair Balm.

Other than this, the Joshua Tree Climbing Salve otherwise works well.  All importantly, it keeps my hands moisturised and feeling good for several hours (even with all the hand washing).  It’s not the best balm I’ve ever tried, but it’s a solid performer that I’ve kept on using.  I even bought more after my first tub ran out.

I keep coming back to Joshua Tree Climbing Salve because it’s quick to use, and versatile.  For instance, I’ve also found that Joshua Tree Climbing Salve calms down and soothes the eczema that I sometimes get on my nose.  The fact that it’s more of a cream than a puck of wax means that it’s easier to apply to the face.  However, I have found that Joshua Tree’s absorbency on my face is considerably worse than its absorbency on my hands.

My wife has also discovered that Joshua Tree Climbing Salve calms down her psoriasis.

I find it a bit hard to pin down what Joshua Tree Climbing Salve smells like.  It’s a sort of menthol, herby, and minty smell that’s pleasant enough.

The scores

I’ve used the same scoring system in all of my reviews of climbing balms.  This involves giving marks out of ten (with ten being the highest score) against four criteria –

• Application – how easy the product is to apply to the hands.
• Absorbency – how quickly the product absorbs into the skin and/or stops leaving your hands feeling oily, greasy or waxy.
• Longevity – how long the product keeps your hands feeling nice and moisturised.
• Smell – this is my estimation of how pleasant (or not) the balm smells. It’s a pretty subjective measure, but it’s important, as your hands may smell of the balm for a while after it’s put on.

The marks I give to Joshua Tree Climbing Balm are as follows.

Application:   9
Absorbency:  5
Longevity:      7
Smell:             7

Score:          28

This is about middle of the range of all the balms I’ve tested, and notably below balms like ClimbOn (on 33), Beta Balm (also on 33), ClimbOn Adventure Bar (on 34), and Giddy (on 33).  Follow the links to my other reviews to see why I rated these balms more highly.

Conclusion

Joshua Tree Climbing Salve takes care of your skin, is versatile and easy to use, but there are other balms that are more rapidly absorbed into the skin.

It was really good to get back to climbing after so long.  My weekends away climbing, and weekend visits to the climbing wall all stopped with the pandemic lockdown.  I’ve missed it in so many ways.  Over the long weekend I took the chance to go climbing on the concrete boulders at Fairlop Waters Boulder Park, and it was brilliant.  The best bit was taking my son climbing again, and seeing him climb really well.

Climbing in a Covid-19 world took a little getting used to.  Using liquid chalk (with 70% plus ethanol) for the first time, putting on far too much, and managing to get it over a lot more than just my hands. Getting into the habit of using hand sanitiser after each climb.  Trying to maintain social distancing when the Boulder Park was busy with climbers and families.  All things I’m not used to, but will have to get used to.

By the end of the session, Leo’s climbing technique had visibly improved and he wanted to come back.  While my under-used climbing muscles were a bit sore, but I was content and wanting to go back too.

Further information

The boulder park is in Fairlop Waters Country Park in the London Borough of Redbridge.  To get to there you can either get the Central Line to Fairlop Station and then walk for about ten minutes, or drive and use one of the car parks (the post code is IG6 3HN for those with a sat nav).  The car park nearest the Boulder Park is not the one at the facilities by the lake, but a bit further along the road in the direction away from Fairlop Waters Station.  There is a charge for the parking, which you pay either using a mobile or by phoning an automated system (details are on signs in the car parks).

There’s no fee to use the Boulder Park – it’s simply open for all to use.

A guide to the Fairlop Waters Boulder Park, including photos and descriptions of a selection of problems, is available for free online.

UKClimbing describes a wider collection of problems than are in the guide, but doesn’t include any photos or diagrams.

It’s been a while since I last wrote a blog post. The main reasons for this were that the pandemic, and actually getting Covid-19, made it hard or impossible to do the activities I normally write about here. Then there was moving house, and all the changes and work that brings. Thankfully, that move has brought many opportunities for climbing and walking as I’ve left London for the wonders of Yorkshire. I therefore have more to blog about, and so I’m returning to posting on The Severe Climber.

Here are a few photos to give you a very brief idea of what I’ve been up to since the move. There will be more to come.

On the hottest day of the day 2022 heatwave, we escaped to the Yorkshire moors to go bouldering. I thought that there was sure to be a breeze, maybe even a cool one, on high, open ground. I was right and we did get relief from the smothering heat. However, I also got a lesson in why in pays to check how old your guidebook is before setting out.

There were three reasons I suggested that we go to Roundhill that day. The first was that it sounded like it would hit that sweet spot of being high and wild enough to get a good breeze, while not being too long a walk-in. The second was that we were out of practice and the climbing didn’t look too hard. The third reason was the description of Roundhill in the most up-to-date edition of the Yorkshire Gritstone; Volume 1 guidebook – 

“An extensive boulder field high on Ilton Moor and a wonderful contrast to the neighbouring Slipstones. Great for families; all bilberries and no ferns. Nice and flat. Yorkshire’s answer to the child-friendly bouldering in Derbyshire’s Burbage Valley…Very pleasant on a summer’s day…”

Nicholson, R. (ed.) (2012) Yorkshire Gritstone; Volume 1, Almscliff to Slipstones, Yorkshire Mountaineering Club, p.624.

It sounded perfect for my wife, eight-year-old son, and I. 

In many respects, Roundhill was perfect. Roundhill is a spread-out collection of gritstone boulders just below the edge of Ilton Moor that has a fantastic view of Roundhill Reservoir and the surrounding moors. The rock is good quality and the climbing interesting. There was a gentle wind on the day we visited that made it pleasantly warm. It is also the quietest bouldering location I have ever been to – we didn’t see another person all day.

The pictures in the guidebook showed bouldering above a gentle landscape of short grass and bilberry bushes. The unpleasant surprise was that in the ten years since the guidebook had been published this landscape had largely disappeared under a sea of bracken. While some of the bilberry bushes poked out here and there, most of them seemed to have been subsumed by the bracken and probably eaten by these veracious ferns. As I stood on the path, looking around the moor side, I wondered whether I had the right place. I then wondered how to actually get to the climbing. In retrospect, the sensible thing might have been to give up and go find an ice-cream. However, I can be stubborn, I wanted to get some climbing done after investing the time to get there, and I optimistically thought that it couldn’t be that bad. I therefore ploughed on, quite literally, through the bracken.

If you are not familiar with the invasive evil of bracken, then it’s worth reading this excellent article on UKClimbing – The Trouble With Bracken. Bracken is a native UK plant; the problem is not that it shouldn’t be in the countryside. The problem is with its spread and the difficulties this creates. These include making it much harder to get between A and B if there is a deep wall of bracken in the way. It’s such a problem at some bouldering venues that the best approach is to only climb at those venues in winter when the bracken has died down. However, coming back in five months was not for me that day, and I ploughed on.

It didn’t look very far from the path to the boulders. However, it felt longer and longer the more I pushed and stomped forward, sometimes using the largest bouldering pad like an icebreaker. Despite the heat, I did wonder if wearing shorts and sandals (albeit ones with enclosed toes) had been a good idea. However, with some fern-whacking effort and a bit of scrambling over rocks, we got to the boulders we wanted to climb on.

The bouldering was fun and interesting. I also felt proud of my son for bold attempts at some tricky problems. Having to stand on the bouldering pads to crush the bracken underneath enough for the pads to lay at least flat-ish was a first for me. 

How we escaped through the bracken is another story. However, that one is probably best told by my wife, who takes the credit for navigating us back to the car. 

It was a good day in many ways, but I feel some regret that I didn’t go to Roundhill ten or more years ago so that I could have a fun day bouldering in an idle of bilberry bushes and soft grass. I also regret not checking how old my guidebook was as I might have gone somewhere else that day if I had known what I was letting us in for. I would then know to visit Roundhill in winter, when it would be at its best.