UKH

As the year draws to a close I thought it might be fun to reminisce about our most drawn out ascents of the year. That cam that took 3 hours to remove in the sweltering heat of summer, the belay that took an age to set up or the crux that was half climbed 15 times before finally committing to above a bomb shelter, comprising of half your rack and the 2 bomber in-situ pegs. 

I think I had a pretty good year in this respect and manage to faff a lot less than last year however the notable exceptions would be; PTO at Willersly, Having spent some time trying to recover before the crux (a pointless effort giving the overhanging nature of the route). I finally commited only to retreat back to the naff jam and an arm wrapped around a downward facing spike. Several more attempts were rebuffed before finally committing and barely being able to hold the V Diff type jugs above the crux (i was however pleased to see my second also exhausted and wide eyed as he reached the belay).

The next was a near benightment on Elegy, having waited all day for Sun to weaken it's grip on the rock I set off, far too long spent sussing the crux (a suprising easy step left once the static mindset has been abandoned) next came the flake and slab, throw in some gear behind the hollow flake and step up only to realise its now dark. Wait 15 mins for a head torch to be lowered down and try again, next issue the bright white led torch makes spotting features for the feet a pain in the arse and the rock turns out to be still quite warm on the protectionless run out.

Unsteady and slow process was made as I stepped gingerly up the sweaty slab until the break was reach and I headed off right. Only to hear my belayer mention that the route went up for a couple more moves, looking up towards the last thin move then looking down I realised the distance to my last runner. Turning my brain off I pulled up and topped out feeling very deserving of the cider waiting at Rock Hall.

Without trying to claim 'the faffiest' … I do have a memorable incident from a multi pitch in the french Pyrenees this summer. Their are some excellent but rarely visited routes on Neouvielle granite which go with mixed pro. I was teamed up with a french chap who declared the necessity to carry a hammer - and what use a hammer without some pitons too ?! Well I'm the one who always pushes to keep the weight down, and further had no need of a hammer on 2 sister routes in the sector.

So anyway he said he would carry this ironmongery *no problem to me*. We carried it without use - until the last pitch, which turned out to be his lead (sadly) at 6b. He was pretty nervous and I knew  he was getting tired so I generously proposed to take the hammer and pitons. His initial acceptance was flawed because he clearly had a need to prove the worth of this kit. Progress was made with the occasional pull on bolts and then with little other gear in sight (and only poor friend placements) he arrived at a loose piton - which must needs be hammered into place.

My suspended stance did not offer a great deal of comfort for crushed toes - it took forever to lower a loop of rope from 10m up - then secure the offending piton. But finally I was never burdened with the damn thing while climbing :/  

On a perfectly frosty Easter morning, half way up the Hornli Ridge on the Matterhorn, all was going well until Number One Son shouts up "Dad; Number Two Son spilt juice on your bouldering mat."

Cursing, I pressed on until Number Three Son starts wailing "Dad; I need a poo. Now"

The panic in his voice sounded genuine so abandoning all summit thoughts, I traversed the South Face to make a headlong descent of the Italian Ridge arriving in time to deal with the matter.

All was good in the end, and I went for another try but a massive three-way fight broke out over the last bag of Hula Hoops and climbing had to be cancelled in favour of fish and chips in Mossley.

We took 5 1/2 hours on Murrays Original on Dow crag a few months ago lol!

Ill stick to bouldering

Great thread. And funny since you're the least faffy climber I climbed with all year, rat-up-a-drainpipe Mike!

Me and my mate took a full midsummer day to climb Totalitarian (E1 5c). Reasonably early start, got to the road closure, turned around, back in another way until that was closed. Went through anyway and got parked up somewhere roughly near-ish the crag.

Ignored the 'footpath closed' sign and entered the storm-felled forest of doom. An hour, and a hundred yards of crawling under and clambering over enormous tree trunks later, we emerged a little bit nearer the crag covered in forest debris and totally exhausted and demoralised. But the crag looked pretty good. Only the slog up the scree into the hanging gardens of vertical death to go.

I can't quite recall in what order we went up carrying gear, abseiling down, traversing sodden vertical greenery, dumping bags somewhere, going back up ropes, identifying that we were on the wrong bit of crag, etc, but after another utterly harrowing hour or so, we were racked up at the bottom of the route, with our bags below rather than above 100ft of loose wet death.

The route went kind-of-OK. I recall a bit of "NO I AM NOT F*CKING SAFE" on a drawn-out run-together of the first couple of pitches, which were really excellent, bold climbing. I ran together the next 2, managing to get pretty stuck for a while and eventually muff the crux, resting on the peg, just to make sure that I wasn't going to tick off a classic route I've wanted to do for years, given all the effort. But more brilliant climbing none-the-less.

Well at least we'd got up the route. Ropes not long enough to ab down, plus the tat was dreadful and while we had some tat with us, about half a mile of rope needed replacing. We tried to find a way down, which got gradually steeper and wetter. I turned back to find the forest track which gave an easy long way round while my mate fought downwards, swinging from tree to tree mainly.

Back at the bottom, my mate is nowhere to be seen. I have a look up where he'd been descending and shout  - no one. I go up to the bags (a fair slog), bags still there, I bring mine down. I have a look around, yelling his name. Where the f*ck is he? He's managed to f*cking die on his stupid vertical forest descent. Brilliant. So I climb all the way back up what I think was his descent route, but no body/cripple to be seen. Back down again to the track below the crag. WTF??

He eventually turns up after having solo'd back across the vertical wet loose death, way past the route, and round to the other side of the crag. And then eventually back again. No one knows why.

It's nearly getting dark now, and obviously we don't go for the closed footpath through the felled forest, we follow the big forest track around back towards the road...which just gets totally obliterated in the tree trunks. Clambering back through to the road is every bit as bad as on the way up, but now we really are completely exhausted and dispirited. We do eventually make it back to the car, at dusk, having climbed just the one route in two pitches.

I spend the next week picking hundred of ticks out of my body, which all swell up into massive disgusting scabs, and itch like nothing else on this earth.

Anyone fancy coming to  Raven Crag, Thirlmere next year?

Darius in June. 26C in shade... climbing in direct sunlight. Overheated so much that I was gagging after every move that involved any actual muscle involvement. Eventually got to the top and then my second nearly passed out on the first crux and had to hang on the rope for ages cooling down enough to climb. We started climbing at 1:30PM and finished at 7PM, even though I already knew how to do all of the climbing, having dropped the very last move a few weeks prior.

PS: the supposed E3 6a direct finish is much easier than the regular finish...

Since I only sport climb these days I can usually avoid faffing altogether, which is the main reason I prefer sport to trad.

However on one route I was trying (Cry of Despair in Cheedale) I noticed one hold getting increasingly more wobbly. I hung on the rope and wiggled it a bit to see just how safe it was and the whole thing came away in my hands. So that was the end attempts for that day. I came back one evening a few days later and stick clipped my way up to the site of the hold and cemented it back in place. Came back a few days later and managed to do the route.

I think there were quite a few other climbers relieved that the route had been repaired. One guy even generously insisted on giving me a tenner, even though it didn't actually cost me anything other that some time. I passed that on to the Peak bolt fund who had supplied me with the cement to fix the route.

One could consider trying the same route 30-odd times as "faff".

Easier?? Where does it go from the bolt (dorect I guess), I had a look at it but only saw a black sea of limestone? I went out left along the groove then made a huge move back right nearly topping out back above the bolt.

I was thinking a faff as something that gets in the way of actually climbing. The climbing bit is the part I really enjoy.

From the bolt, there are some pockets for hands and feet leading directly up to a jug in two or so moves. From there you can exit up, which currently has some vegetation that makes it rather unappealing and could do with some gardening, or you can step left and exit as you would from the regular finish.

The moves up are probably slightly harder technically, but the holds are positive and not as polished, plus it feels less airy.

All of them ????

Think Jon's argument still stands. You spend a lot of tie not climbing on protracted sports routes. 

At the mention pf a hammer I was half expecting some Brown on the Cenotaph type tale

What when you're belaying your partner? Same as any kind of roped climbing then.

Admittedly bouldering, soloing and indoor climbing involve a bit less faff. But generally it's easier to do say 10 sport pitches in a day than it is to do 10 trad routes.

I think they are referring to protracted working of routes, where some people spend 10 times more time sitting on the rope swearing than they do actually with their hands on rock.

Sounds like that's not your style of sport climbing.

My only route of the year: Christmas Curry, beautiful sunny December weather, wrecking post-stag hangover. Should have been easy, I've done it several times over the years.

Struggled with the first scramble pitch, partly unfamiliarity with rock, partly sore feet, mostly sore head. Followed the next pitch without having to remove much gear as most had fallen out, my partner being as rusty as me. Nearly fell off the little corner pitch, head getting clearer by now but limbs refusing to remember this climbing lark then got baffled, lost, wandered aimlessly until I eventually found a familiar looking tree then ledge. Partner cruised the tricky looking bit of the next pitch to an eventual exposed arete freeze-up and rescue near the top. I genuinely struggled to even follow the little wall and flake section on bambi legs before stupidly mantling the flake and ending up stuck. All in all a good day out we should have had on another day! Still, at least we finished before dark.

jk

Learning to back and forth on The Peapod (HVS 5b) was a bit of a character building experience with plenty of faff and shouts of "F**k I can't do this" "I am going to fall here, I don't even know if this is a good placement" (they all are, I had relearnt how to place gear the day before after a long hiatus) and general expletives as I puffed out of my arse. I managed to get my hands on the ledge onsight and held on to the absolute bitter end but just did not have enough to pull over. Finished it up after a few minutes hanging on the rope cursing my lack of old school trad tekkers. It was by far the most gutted I have ever been to not onsight a route but my god what a route it is!

I definitely had to try harder on that than any boulder I have ever done.

P.S. It was done largely cos my mate suggested it with a knowing smile on his face, knowing full well I was never going to try it. I took one look at it and couldn't not.

Has to be Toppasokeri (E3 5c), granted haven't climbed much this year with a rope and even less placing gear... had a wonderful bouldering year though.

Warmed up by climbing something, it was painful... them big crystals on granite sure do hurt... the kid woke up, so proceeded to get cold whilst trying to make her sleep again. Eye ball up the line, rack and flake rope. Start climbing (flash attempt, as I've seen others climb or try to climb it in the past) and cruise the boulder start. Place good gear and go higher an try to get a sinker fingerjam in... no dice, crack is filled with moist pine needles and other crap. Downclimb and down clean, coil rope, belay wife on her project... her onsight (or flash) blows and she hangdogds her way to the top and rappels down cleaning the gear. I pick up the other rope I coiled and walk to the top. Rappel down the line and clean the crack. Re-compose, rack, flake the whole nine yards. Cruise the bouder start, sink the jams in and get to the not so comfy rest-ledge... build a cluster fvck of gear and set of the "headwall". Reach the sloping jug/ledge and then fail miserably to get to the top. As in take a small fall to bomber gear... Didn't do a proper job at cleaning the top-portion... *Idiot*. Handgod my way up, set the rappel, clean the gear (and also the top part of the crack). Get the gal back to sleep (again) whilst wife racks up for her send.. and she absolutely smashed it, far out bro's... Recompose, rack and so on... cruise the boulder start and also the lower crack to the not-so comfy rest ledge. Place gear on the "headwall" and reach the sloping "jug". Place gear and sink tht rattly finger jam in on that sh*tty just cleaned pod and proceed to top-out without fluffin' it. Some 14m of climbing and  over 2h spent... man, this roped climbing thing is not efficient...

This year: Old man of Hoy.

A long drive, 2 ferries, a taxi, a walk, a climb, some fulmars, some sand, some rust, some photos, some abseils, a walk, a taxi, 2 ferries and a long drive.  All for one very nice pitch and a summit.  Worht it though.

Ever: some pinnacle in west Cuba with my son

Got attacked by a nasty goat on the walk in.  Hacked through the rainforest to the start (rainforest isn't lush - every single f*king plant is spiky or stings or both and is covered in biting insects).  Climbed the 2 pitches.  Abbed off the back only to find the ropes had disturbed (half destroyed) a large wasps nest.  Abbed at speed through swarming angry wasps; burnt hand.  Landed to find the dislodged nest was still spewing wasps.  Started to pull ropes, tail gets halfway and then jams.  Send son off to tell his mum that we might be a bit late.  Hack back round to front of pinnacle again, ripping shirt.  Solo up route.  Rearrange ab so rope won't jam, but still has to go past the nest.  Abseil and burn other hand.  Only a few more stings as the bottom pieces have quietened down.  Pull ropes and dislodge rest of nest.  Hurridly crawl out through thicket.

My wife and son then saw a grimy, sweaty, bleeding apparition covered in swelling wasp stings trudging towards them trailing a largely uncoiled pair of ropes.

"Good route?" she asks.

Yes! Keep me in the loop..

In that case my faffiest route of the year is the green 7c on the justice panel at Ratho. The way things are going it may well end up being my faffiest route of next year too.