UKH

On the back of another thread, suggesting that approaching and locating routes is all part of the climbing adventure, I ask whether this is for the most part true, or whether it's usually simply a means to an end similar to driving to the crag and finding a parking spot?

How often, and in what circumstances, does the real fun of a good climbing day begin before tying onto a rope, and when really does the fun start??

Surely it's the inception of an idea. "Hey, have you seen this line" for example

It starts when you leave work on Friday. Or earlier if you enjoy planning trips...

For me, the approach is only really part of the adventure either when it's a notably hard crag to get to or when the way to get to it is unknown because it's an unclimbed objective. The guidebook description as to how to reach most reasonably accessible crags should be largely an extension of following satnav directions to the parking, albeit usually with fresh air and a better view.

It’s an age thing; in the past getting buses out to the dales or the peak, the fun and excitement built throughout. Now with cars and age often it’s arriving at the crag. 

We spent two hours this afternoon, dicking around below Pizzo Monaco in Sicily, trying to find via Fratelli Titt.  I can live with the 'discover it for yourself' thing but not with guidebook descriptions that are vague or non-existent regarding where to start.  Do they want you to climb it or don't they?

Guidebook writers usually know a crag pretty damn well.  Visitors from oversees usually don't.

It depends.

Swim and Tyrolean to Joy. Fun

Same amount of time nettle bashing trying to find the route on a Wye crag. Not fun.

Long walk into Carnmore and bivvi. Fun.

Long drive on the M6 and Travelodge. Not fun.

Blasting up the contours on firm snow to complete an approach in record time, whilst arriving at the base of a route feeling warmed up and ready to go - fun.

Wading eyeball deep in wet snow or scrabbling up loose boulders caked in bottomless powder to reach a climb soaked through and demotivated - not so fun.

Similarly, slipping and sliding up soggy wet grass, damp lichen and brambles whilst being gnawed on by mosquitoes - not so fun.

Taking an early morning romp through stunning alpine pastures with a cool breeze and a good forecast, knowing the day is going to be gleaming before your pulse has even began to rise - fun.

Since Via Fratelli Titt isn't on Pizzo Monaco it's not suprising you had problems

It's on Monte Monaco Sperone Est which is 1.5km away, like it says in the guide.

On the bog months earlier, reading the guidebook for inspiration...

CB

I meant Store, not Hot, which came out as "Joy" anyway!

Gazing at photos of routes in guidebooks, crooning and making clutchy finger gestures.

(Or maybe that's just me.)

Sorry Jim, my brain fart. We WERE on Monte Monaco, having done a route on Pizzo Monaco on Saturday.  Have you got any info on what else is close to Via Fratelli Titt?  There were quite a few bolts, belays and threads on neighbouring routes, which made finding the start much more complicated than expected

To the left there is nothing except an old trad route, to the right a shorter route called Lo Sballo di San Vito which has a few bolts and threads on a slightly more slabby area. Via Fratelli is fully bolted at the bottom like a normal sport route and there aren´t any threads until about pitch 10 or so. There´s a sort of pillar standing out from the face and the start is directly right of that, there used to be a bolt at waist hight (my ground anchor for soloing it) though the hanger has probably been removed. The left side of the pillar is more broken and you can actually scramble up this to the belay on P2.

The fun never stops for me. If I'm not climbing, I'm planning my next trip, or getting to the wall, or talking or reading about climbing and just generally at different stages of the fun.

I bloody hate approaching and locating routes. The fun starts precisely when that ends. 

I remember Eric Shipton writing (sorry can't remember where) that for Himalayan climbing, the anticipation was everything and that once high up, life was so miserable that he & his team mates could only think about getting/ being down again.... but then when finally down again, they only dreamt about being up high again. Struck a chord with me for big mountain (bigger than the Alps) climbing

For me with climbing in the UK, anticipation/ daydreaming about routes and days out is the start of the fun, but actually getting on the rock - good weather, good routes - is the best part

Trick question. The fun never stops  

I think the distinction here is between "fun" and "adventure". Walking in to a crag on a fine morning can be a joyous experience, but if someone put down some stone slabs to get the path over the worst of the bogs on the way in then I wouldn't automatically complain that they'd compromised the adventurous spirit of the climbing there.

As to when something - a rough approach, a hard to find start, a sketchy route description, a nerve-wracking descent - becomes part of the adventure rather than just an annoyance, it seems a bit psychological and weird. My best guess is that it's about whether it feels like the same general sort of challenge as the climbing itself. So for big mountain routes or adventurous sea cliffs, having to be somewhat switched-on from the moment you leave the car can feel in character, because the climbing sits with the general ethos of self-reliance, decision making, efficient travel over difficult terrain and so on, whereas for short, hard, technical routes the climbing can feel like a different class of experience.

Inspiration starts way back.

Joy arrives when someone says, 'Yeh, that sounds great!' to your tentative plan.

Anxiety leaves you with the release of a positive weather forecast and a dry road.

Pleasure comes with the thought that you're outside on a week day, whilst others are working.

Walking uphill to the crag is a satisfying burn.

Tying-in is a bated breath.

Fun is finding it all flowing, as you climb, better than you dared hope.

Elation is reaching the top.

Contentment: watching a kestrel hovering below you, from the belay.

And gratification: hot food and a pint after it all.