Wednesday 9 October 2013

KILLARNEY ADVENTURE RACE 2013

There must be a touch of the masochist about me. After the torrid time I had completing the Rough Diamond adventure race last week what did I go and do??, yes that's right I went to do the Killarney Adventure Race this weekend. Ah well I'll get some sense someday I suppose.

Friday October 4th;

Trevor Woodgate (a friend and workmate) and his brother Gavin joined me in Killarney on Friday evening to register for the race in the Gleneagle hotel and collect our goodie bags and to drop off our bikes at the race starting point at Kate Kearney's cottage. The registration went like clockwork and despite the huge numbers competing there were no hitches or delays. There was a real buzz about the exhibition centre as people milled about the various exhibits and stands. I met up with a few people I knew and chatted awhile and then after we drove the eight miles to the bike drop we returned to the town and had a nice meal followed by a couple of beers (tut tut) and settled down for the night.

Saturday October 5th;

Race day!!. I was up at 06.40 and had a light breakfast and made my way to the exhibition centre in good time to catch my bus to Kate Kearney's. Again the organisation was seamless and bang on time we were off to the race start. I was in the third wave to start and the two hundred people were broken into two groups who started ten minutes apart. I was a bit apprehensive after my experience of last week but also delighted that I actually felt quite good, a feeling that I didn't altogether trust. Anyway off I went in the second group and soon we were huffing and puffing up the narrow lane that wends into the Gap of Dunloe. The first section of the route is up Strickeen Mountain, an eight kilometre run on good tracks that zig zagged up the mountainside until you reach the broad boggy plateau of the spur that is the easternmost extreme of "The Reeks", Ireland's highest mountain range. The gradient is not too steep and I was able to run a fair bit of the way and walk strongly the rest. This year the route didn't go all the way to the 440 meter summit but stopped a couple of hundred meters short. This I think was a great idea as beyond this point the trail (such as it is) is across boggy ground and the damage that a thousand + people stomping up and back over it would have been too great. I was delighted to find that my feeling of well-being wasn't a false one and I was actually enjoying feeling reasonably strong. I turned back down and on the return passed a fair few as I suppose my previous experience of trail running gave me a bit of an advantage over some. I reached the transition area and quickly picked up my bike and set off for the next leg.
One of the waves starting

On Strickeen

Great views

A few bikes

This leg is a thirty five kilometer cycle back through the Gap of Dunloe, onward through the Black Valley before climbing Molls Gap and then on to Torc for the next stage. This is a beautiful route with about half the route on narrow twisty bumpy roads and it has a couple of tough climbs thrown in as well. Right from the start there is a short hill that gets the blood pumping but soon enough you pass over a narrow bridge and a welcome flat section offers some respite and a chance to get the legs into bike mode. As per usual a fair few passed me at speed but I was somewhat heartened to see most were from cycling clubs and so would have more miles done on the bike than me. All too soon you are past the lakes and the first brutal climb begins. While it isn't very long it gains about eighty meters in a few very steep steps. Almost everyone struggles here and I was no exception. My biggest objective was getting to the crest without having to dismount and this I just about managed. Another flat kilometer in stunning, savage scenery passes in a flash before another forty meter climb to the head of the gap. Now comes the most exhilarating and dangerous section of the route. A steep descent on a potholed, twisty road requires complete attention. It was sobering but also inspiring to see the young Polish chap, who had been paralyzed in this very section just two years before act as the official starter for the race. He was cheerful and fit looking in his chair and it put my petty fears about my poor form into perspective. The descent passed in a flash and thankfully without incident and soon I was pedaling along through the wonderful Black Valley. I was going fairly well and feeling strong enough to enjoy myself a bit. Last year I was cramping quite badly by this section and it was a relief not to have to contend with that problem today. Next up comes the long climb from the valley floor to Molls Gap. Its fair to say that I wasn't looking forward to this bit but I managed it fairly well. I didn't push a big gear but again I managed to stay on the bike for the duration and eventually joined the main road at the Gap. Oh the relief to hit the downhill section on a good road surface. I love this stretch and it offers ample reward for the pain suffered during the climb. I was barreling along until the speed is interrupted by a short bump by Looscaunagh Lough before another fantastic downhill stretch at Derrycunihy all the way down to the Upper Lake. Any illusions that you have that its downhill all the way to Torc are quickly dispelled and some surprising little hills slow the speed right down. I was delighted however by how I was feeling and I pushed on all the way to the transition area in the Muckross Estate. A few hundred meters of rough narrow track is a bit of a shock to the system as were the big crowds of (lets just say not terribly quick) cyclists that were doing the 27 K route. I dropped my bike and set off on the kilometer run to Muckross Lake to do the kayak section.
Grabbing my lifejacket

A steep hill

Lots on the water

The day was now warm and sunny and there was a real sense of excitement in the air as people of all abilities mixed with tourists strolling through the grounds. I used the jog to try and find my running legs again and soon I arrived at the controlled chaos of the transition to the kayaks. I was paired with a lady who had never been in one before and it was something of a struggle to make progress. I was disappointed to see that the route had been shortened again this year due to choppy waters but with the progress we were making perhaps it was just as well. So ten minutes later I was back on dry land and setting off on what is perhaps the toughest leg of the race, the 18 kilometer run on Mangerton. I was mindful that I hadn't drank an awful lot so far in the race so I collected my little backpack and decided to  run whiles't holding onto my camelback 3/4 liter bottle. This allowed me to nearly finish it by the time I reached the waterstation above the impressive Torc Waterfall where I refilled it,I also fueled up with plenty of jelly babies and all in all I wasn't doing too bad. The route winds it way through forrestry for a few kilometers before finally reaching the base of the mountain where the climb proper begins. I was able to run nearly all this section but now I was quite content to walk up the steep steady climb. I slogged steadily up to the 550 meter contour and passed a fair few who were struggling. From here a fairly flat traverse allowed me to jog all the way until you pass a stream where the the trail turns once again uphill towards the "Devils Punchbowl". I had to again walk a lot of this but it was a great relief toreach the lake and be able to turn around and face downhill.

If it is a long way up it certainly is a long way back down. The descent is quite steep and technical in places and requires full concentration despite the fatigue, if a painful slip or fall is to be avoided. Again I managed to pass a few on the way down but by the bottom cramp was beginning to raise its ugly head. Once back on the forestry trails the problem eased and I was delighted to reach the steps back to the base of the waterfall and then back to the transition area, the end was not too far away now. It took me a few minutes to find my bike among the hundreds there but eventually I got it and set off on the final five kilometer dash to the finish. I don't know whether it was adrenalin of excitement at knowing that I was actually going to finish the race, but I fair flew this leg. I was pumping those pedals hard and soon I could see the impressive footbridge that had been constructed across the busy road to enable competitors to safely reach the finish line in the hotel carpark. So on under the bridge and a couple of hundred meters later I dropped the bike and set of to jog the remainder to the finish, or at least that was the plan. As I have said cramp had begun to become an issue and as soon as I tried to run my left calf just seized. I bent down and pulled back my toes and watched in a kind of horrified fascination as the muscle twisted and contorted to an amazing extent as it spasmed. Eventually it loosened out and I was able to gingerly finish the race. Impressive the footbridge may have been but the three flights of steps up were a bit of a sting in the tail. I crossed the line in 5 hours 33 seconds and was delighted despite the obvious fatigue. I drank copiously from the water provided and ate a banana and once I was sufficiently recovered I went and enjoyed the great atmosphere in the "tented village".There was a super buzz about the place as hundreds milled about in the glorious warm sun and ate the food, listened to the DJ, had a massage or enjoyed the hot tubs. I changed and met with Trevor and Gavin and we congratulated each other on our efforts. We were all content with out achievement, ( Trevor finished in the top 20% in the 59 K race despite using a mountain bike which must have added nearly half an hour to his time) and once we had eaten the tasty beef stew and rice dish and sampled enough of the after-party the boys said goodbye and headed home. I had other plans and I went and booked myself into a B&B nearby as I was meeting Frank on Sunday for a hike. A long hot shower went some way to restoring my well-being and after a brief rest I returned to the venue for "the barbecue". I was disappointed with this as the DJ was done for the day and most of the people had left. Things were in wind down mode and after I ate the "burger" I left and returned to my room as there wasn't really any reason to hang about. I returned for the prize giving and party but perhaps I had been spoiled by Clifden the week before but this time the band didn't float my boat and I left for an early night. All in all though it had been a superb day.
Village



Trevor trying to look cool

Sunday October 6th;

I didn't sleep very well in the stiflingly warm room and it was somewhat of a disappointment to look out the window and see the stellar weather of the day before had given way to low cloud and rain. I enjoyed a leisurely morning and a voluminous breakfast and set off into town to meet Frank. It had been a couple of months since we had been out together as Frank had an injury to his foot. He was a bit concerned that his hard won fitness might have suffered but nevertheless we opted to climb Carrauntoohil. It seemed only fitting to follow perhaps the best adventure race in Ireland with a climb of Ireland's highest mountain. With the weather being as pish as it was there wasn't any point in doing a nice ridge or anything so we opted for the "tourist route", the Devils Ladder. It had been a fair few years since I had climbed the mountain this way so it was something of a novelty route for me. Franks company is always a pleasure and the time flew by as we chatted and made plans for future days. The walk to the base of the Ladder is long but it enters deep into the rugged heart of the range. Waterfalls crashed down the moody east face of Carrauntoohil and the wide loose gully that is the Ladder resembled a stream. Still we set off up and made good progress. Once we crested the gully we were exposed to the stiff wind and rain so we got a proper drenching on the 300 meter slog to the summit. Frank needn't have worried about his fitness as we maintained a steady pace as we climbed and didn't stop once until we reached the cross. In these conditions there wasn't much point in staying so we about turned and headed back down via the Heavenly Gates. I was pleased with how I was feeling and while I could feel the effects of yesterday I wasn't too bad and there was still some strength left in the legs. It felt great to finally arrive back at the car 3 hours 45 mins after we set off and change into dry clothes and we sat in the car and enjoyed the delicious sandwiches which Frank had made earlier. So back into town and we said our goodbyes and I returned home. It had been another great weekend. I wonder what I'll do next.

Grinning through the pain

Impressive footbridge

Lovely evening in Killarney

Francis Jan

The Ladder

Long way back

Monday 30 September 2013

Rough Diamond Connemara...A Real Gem

This weekend I went with Kevin for a weekend away in fantastic Connemara and to compete in the Rough Diamond adventure race. Its fair to say that I hadn't had much in the way of proper training and after the tummy bug of a few days earlier I was a wee bit apprehensive at the prospect of a race that stretches out to 72 kilometers. On the other hand I was really looking forward to another weekend away with Kevin in Clifden and once again it didn't disappoint.

Friday September 27th;

We set off from Mallow in the afternoon and straight away the banter was good and lasted right through the 250 kilometer  drive. The traffic was bad but the weather was fine and it looked set fair to last through the weekend. The race itself was based in the little village of Letterfrack about 15 kilometers north of Clifden and we were booked into a hostel there for the first night. After a very nice feed we retired early to bed. Sleep was interrupted by some drunken oafs arriving at almost 2am and another dolt roaring obsenities at 4 am so all in all a less than perfect sleep was enjoyed but we both rose in good spirits to a warm humid and dry morning. All was set for a great day.

Saturday September 28th;
The Race;

We finally met up with two of Kevin's friends, (Terrance Hoare and Anthony Holmes who had arrived late the previous evening) who were taking part in the sport version 45 K of the event. I was surprised by how few people were about. I had expected this event to be heavily supported and the numbers that were competing in the "expert" course appeared to be less than 100. Still the day was lovely and only the midges were a problem. Soon the allotted time of 09.30 arrived and we were off.
Stage one is an 8.5 kilometer run from the village to the summit of Diamond Hill, a stunningly beautiful little mountain of around 450 meters. We wound our way up past the visitor center and out onto the wild open mountainside on fine wide well built paths of stone and timber. Unfortunately it was evident pretty quickly that I was struggling. even after only a couple of kilometers I had to break out of my run and I was reduced to walking. The gradient wasn't that steep but I was feeling terribly leaden and even a bit queasy. Thankfully Kevin (who had promised to stay with me for the entire course) decided to take off and run at his own pace. If he stuck with me he just wouldn't get the kind of workout he deserved after all the effort of driving up to the west. I kept going and eventually reached the top. On the descent I was in more comfortable terrain and while I still felt like pish  at least the going was easier. I was really unsure just how I would manage to keep going for the entire route, I was after all only just at the beginning. Down down we went and eventually I reached the visitor center again and the run continued on a lovely winding trail through woodland back into the village. Even here I had to walk some of the short little uphill sections, oh dear. My spirits were buoyed  however by the wonderful welcome back into the transition area and to my delight and dismay there was Kevin waiting for me. Delight because his enthusiasm and good humour are always a joy and dismay that he had thrown away the chance to really compete in the event, especially since, even after hanging back with me for some of the run, he still came fifth in that section.Still there was nothing for it but to grab the bike and hit the road.

I had been really looking forward to this cycle before the event as the route travels one of the most beautiful sections of road in the country, now I was dreading it. While it is comparatively flat there was a surprisingly strong headwind that made for tough going. The route travels on good roads for almost all its length before eventually winding it was along a little lane to the next hill run at Maumeen thirty kilometers away. First it went along past Kylemore with its beautiful abbey before turning right and travelling through the stunning Inagh valley where the Twelve Bens are on your right and the Maumturks are on the left. The great weather (wind notwithstanding) and glorious views helped somewhat to alleviate the agony of the cycle. I wasn't too bad on the flat but when it came to any bit of a hill I struggled mightily. My mood wasn't helped by being passed out by so many others who seemed to fly by at their ease. Kevin flattered, coaxed and cajoled but it was no use, I just didn't have it in me to maintain a decent pace. He was in mighty form and every so often he would leave me and catch up with the people who had passed me and then slow right down to let me catch up. I felt so frustrated both for him and myself and eventually, three quarter way through I had to tell him in the most direct language possible to leave me behind and have some fun for himself. Perhaps it was the way I shook my fist at him or the hysterical timber of my voice as I roared FUCK OFF at him (which I'm sure startled birds off the water from the lake a kilometer away) but it worked and he set off alone into the distance. I was never so glad to see the end of a cycle and at the transition I unceremoniously dumped the bike and set off in the direction of the pass in the Maumturks called Maumeen.

This eight kilometer run is on a rough trail track and rises relatively gently for about 100 meters to the pass. This is a place of pilgrimage and there is a tiny little church and stations of the cross but aside from religion there is much to draw you to this lovely spot. I hadn't a hope of running up hill so I walked the majority of the route to the pass. I was still struggling and the legs were a bit rubbery but at least I was off the bike and using muscles that were more frequently in service. I suppose I shouldn't expect any different as it had been over seven weeks since I had been on the bike at all and I hadn't done a lot on it previously either. Up and over the pass and then down fairly steeply along the western way for another two kilometers. I met Kevin coming back against me and was relieved to see he still had a smile for me and was still rooting for me. I don't think I have ever been on this side of the pass before and it was lovely. Spectacular craggy bluffs soared over 300 meters on either side and since my competitive streak has long since fizzled out and I was now intent on just getting to the finish line I relaxed a bit and tried to enjoy the majesty of my surroundings. Down and turn about and up and over and I jogged the final couple of K to the bike. A stop for a good drink and some of the tastiest orange segments I have ever had and I was off again. I had been dreading getting back on the bike but now the wind was to my back and progress was somewhat easier. I didn't exactly fly along but I was only passed by two on this 18 K section. Eventually Kylemore arrived again and I dismounted and braced myself for the assault course.
Kevin doin the business

This proved to be a delight. Not difficult, occasionally a bit challenging and always interesting, it twisted its way through scrubby woodland, out onto open moorland and back into the woods again. All along the way there were problems to overcome, from walking across stacks of wobbly tyres to crawling through blacked out muddy tunnels to crossing swinging rails to rope bridges. One of the highlights was the pair of "Sumo Wrestlers" replete with giant padded suits that you had to try and run past. Cresting a rise there they were about fifty meters in front of you. I stopped and gave them as deep a bow as my crocked body allowed which they reciprocated with surprising grace and off I set. I didn't have a plan but my shimmy worked and I got by unscathed and beaming. Twas great fun. Eventually I was through the course and back to my bike for the final eight kilometers to the finish. Now I was buoyed by the knowledge that the end was near and I pedaled as well as I could to the finish. Eventually the full 72 kilometers were done and I crossed the finish line pretty much whacked. Here I was reunited with the others and after congratulations all round and a short rest we left and headed to a nearby beach for a dip in the sea. Man the water was cold and it took me several attempts before the pain in my feet subsided enough to allow me to wade in as far as my hips. The cold water did however work its magic and when I re-emerged the ache in the legs was much better. Terrence and Anthony were much braver and went the whole hog and "enjoyed" a swim in the freezing water. We decamped to Clifden for a rest...after all the day was only half done.
Terrence venturing in

Beautiful beach

Anthony and Terrence looking   refreshed

Clifden is one of my favorite places and it is always a delight to visit. Once we were once again ensconced in the excellent Hostel we settled down for a lazy snoozy rest for a couple of hours. This worked well and by seven pm we were ready to head out and have a bite to eat. The town was buzzing as our arrival coincided with the culmination of the week-long arts festival in the town. A beautiful balmy late summer weather day only added to the good vibe about town. All the pubs were packed but we managed to find a space by the bar where we ate the last time and enjoyed excellent pizza. Re-hydration was  really important after the exertions of the morning and we set about that task with some relish. I had only very briefly met with Terrence and Anthony in the past but they are great guys and so easy to get along with. The stories and banter were great and time flew by. There was a delightful parade of colour and spectacle that evening and the sense of "Carnival" pervaded the night. After a few beers we decided to take a break and we went to see what else was happening. A considerable crowd had gathered in the square to see a band rocking the night. It was great to see the mix of revelers milling about with tourists of all ages mixing with families of young and old and everybody smiling and enjoying themselves. The band were great and with just a base and lead guitar and a drummer the sound was loud and tight. It took me a while but I eventually recognized the singer and it was none other than Rob Strong, a veteran of the Irish scene for many years whose powerful vocals made him rightly famous. Man these guys could rock it and soon the lure of the music proved too much and...well lets just say that the next two hours passed in a haze of groove and dance that meant me dusting off moves I hadn't tried in years and perhaps should have been left in the recess' of the past..but maybe not.
Re-hydrating....tiz vital




More re- hydrating


American movers


Two American ladies of a certain vintage (lets just say they could probably tell you where they were when Kennedy was shot) still had the moves and I bet they will regale their friends at home about the night they rocked Clifden. One in particular fell prey to the Kevin Ring "lasso"  and her shimmy as he drew on the rope was such a delight. Music of the highest quality was abundantly accompanied by dancing that completely counterbalanced it but nobody cared. Great fun was had by all. At around midnight after the band were done I hit something of a wall and I decided to call it a day. The boys continued the revelry into the early hours while I enjoyed a good sleep. I was wide awake by 7 am so I got up and had a wander around the sleeping town. All traces of the previous night were gone and it was a perfect time to reflect on the previous day and feel grateful that I was able to be here in such a great spot and have such a good time. I picked up a few bits for breakfast and as I retreated to the hostel a woman of similar age to myself was looking directly at me as we approached. When I got near she smiled and in a French accent told me I had danced very well last night. I too had a smile as I passed. We ate and left early for home, another little adventure over and more great memories in the store. Lots of laughter filled the car as the tale of my F U moment was relived and the drive passed quickly.Despite the strain of the race I can't wait to go back.



Thursday 26 September 2013

A short visit to wonderful Snowdonia.

Well I'm back home again after a slightly abridged visit to one of my favorite places..Snowdonia. On Saturday morning after I finished my night shift I did my usual thing of train and ferry and arrived in exotic Holyhead at 16.30. Train again to the Llandudno Junction where I "enjoyed" my first experience of Kentucky Fried Chicken fine dining and then the final leg into Betws y Coed where I gratefully crashed in a B&B for the night. A long much needed sleep ensued.

Sunday September 22nd;

Looking towards Crib Goch
I emerged into the town on a bright warm morning and did my usual trick of sticking out my thumb to try and get a drive to the mountains. There was a bus due in a while but why wait. I tend to be very lucky and this time was no exception as I was being driven to Capel Curig within two minutes. I actually hadn't a definite plan in mind even at this stage. I had thought about the Atlantic Slab but my drive was only going as far as Capel so I made a spur of the moment decision to start my day from here. I was a little disappointed to see that there was a fair bit of hill cloud about but I was fairly confident that this would burn off as the day progressed. I decided to head up the broad boggy ridge that leads to Gallt yr Ogof and continue along over the Glyders. I had done this before but in pish weather so I reckoned that it would be a worthy outing in today's conditions. The cloud was lifting all the time and soon only the higher tops were concealed. I hadn't done a lot of hill walking lately but I was quite pleased to find that my legs felt fairly strong and I made steady progress.

Happy chappie

Tryfan's east face

Cantilever Rock

Castel y Gwynt and Glyder Fawr


Looking back to Glyder Fach
Tryfan West Face

























































 One of the reasons I picked this walk was that I didn't want to experience the "madding crowds" that come with this part of the world on a fine Sunday. The massive population that lives within a couple of hours drive of this beautiful place ensure that some of the more popular spots can be really really busy. My route is initially somewhat off the beaten track, and rises in a series of steps, before a steep push to the first significant top Gallt yr Ogof at 763mtrs. The bit of cloud that had hidden the top had by now cleared and I could see all the way along the route as far as Glyder Fach. The next top is the broad and rather featureless Y Foel Goch and I then dropped down to the wide saddle before Glyder Fach, with its cluster of little lakes. Here is a great spot to stop and enjoy the stunning views across to the majestic east face of Tryfan. There, there are rock-climbs a plenty, and the promise of great future days out, but today I was in hiking mode and I set off up the rather tedious 200 meter climb to reach the other-worldly summit plateau of Glyder Fach. The day was now glorious, with warm sun, which felt more like a mid summer day than one in the middle of autumn. Still I wasn't about to complain and I basked in the heat of the day and enjoyed a bite to eat on the summit blocks in blissful solitude. The summits of the Glyders are really quite unique. The large shards of rock (some up to 10mtrs long) give the impression of crystal formations or are like something from a superman movie.

Truly Fine Mountain Scenery

Final mountain of the day.

Into Llanberis Pass

Spoils of Slate mining

I lingered a while before setting off for the next summit Glyder Fawr 999mtrs. This soon passed and I made the steep loose descent to Llyn y Cwn above the "Devils Kitchen" and then set off on the deceptively stretchy drag to Y Garn 947 mtrs. Here I rested a while and had a second bite to eat and I was to have a beautiful raven alight just eight meters from me and regard me with a speculative eye while I ate. They really are a majestic bird and surprisingly big. Its luxuriant pitch black coat glistened in the sunshine and the huge strong beak looked like it wouldn't have any difficulty tearing the flesh from the carrion from which it survives. It was a real treat to get such a good look at it and it buoyed my already good spirits further. I had decided not to descend to the Ogwen Valley and I opted instead to continue north over Foel Goch and from there across to the next 3000er Elidir Fawr and then to descend to Nant Peris. This added considerably to the overall distance and climb, but the day was so good it seemed a shame not to make full use of it. All the while the weather and views remained stellar until finally I made my way down south towards the road. On the descent I was treated to the sight of a few buzzards soaring above and as I got lower the huge mounds of spoil from the extensive slate quarrying that was done here, dominated to my right, and to my left the stunning vistas that bound the Pen y Pass were an inspiration. So after 18 kilometres, 1700 meters of climbing and six and a half hours I reached the busy road. I walked the fifty or so meters to the bus stop and saw that there was a bus in an hours time to Betws y Coed. Rather than wait I once again stuck out my thumb and lo and behold the first car that came along gave me a lift back. Result !.

Monday September 23rd;

Paul





























Before I left home I put a shout out in UK Climbing asking for someone to climb with and I was delighted to get a reply from a man living near the area called Paul Harvey. We agreed to meet at 9 am and we set off for a crag called Dinas Cromlech in the Llanberis Pass. Our objective was the VDiff route called Flying Buttress. This is supposed to be one of the best climbs of the grade in the area and I was really looking forward to it. The weather was warm and humid but the cloud was hanging low in the sky, indeed we were enveloped in the mist as we drove over the Pen y Pass. Paul brought all the necessary equipment and once we selected the necessary gear we set on up the steep unrelenting 100 meter climb to the base of the crag. Safe to say we were both quite warm by the time we arrived at the start of the route. We were also the first here so there was no need to queue for the start. Paul didn't have a lot of experience so I was happy to lead the route.

The steep first pitch

The second pitch and the upper Buttress



Cenotaph Corner, a bit beyond me I'm afraid

The first pitch runs to about 25 meters and rises fairly steeply to a pleasing point high above. I set off up and was pleased to find that despite the very polished rock there is an abundance of lovely big jug holds that inspire confidence. I don't like placing cams in polished rock so I relied on wire placements of which there were plenty to choose from. Progress was fairly rapid and I arrived at the first luxuriant belay point. Paul easily followed and I set off on the next short pitch. This is an almost horizontal one that passes a couple of small pinnacles before dropping into a notch where the main body of the crag rises steeply skyward. The next pitch is also fairly short and it forms a rising traverse rightwards onto the exposed main face of the cliff. Here the exposure is considerable but there is superb protection and I was really able to enjoy the situation. The belay is on a narrow ledge with good spikes offering easy sling placements. From here it is straight up the face before another exposed rising traverse to the right to the base of a chimney that leads to the top. The  start of the chimney  is quite awkward but a few strenuous ungainly moves, that I'm sure aren't to be found in any instruction books, saw me established in the chimney and it was easy from there to the top. We made great time and we were both delighted with the route and we were sorry that it didn't keep going for another few pitches. It is a superb 90 meter route that did indeed live up to its star billing.
Paul at the start of pitch 1 of Sub Cneifion Rib

The excellent final pitch follows the ridgeline from right to left

Trust me its steeper than it looks
Looking up the first pitch

On the more broken middle section.


Well pleased after the last pitch

We descended the couple of hundred meters back to the car and as the day was still young we headed for the Qgwen Valley to a climb I had backed off of the previous November with Frank, due to damp soapy rock and matching boots, called the Sub Cneifion Rib. This is another VDiff route of 110 meters in length. A quick bite to eat and a decent coffee from the new cafe by the carpark and we were off into the huge and beautiful Cwm Idwall. The base of the climb is at about 500 meters so we had a bit of a climb to do again to reach the start. We were ready for a rest when we arrived at the base. The earlier mist had now burned off and wonderful views were once again the order of the day. Paul was once again happy for me to lead and I set off up. As you approach, the rock seems quite laid back, but it is steeper than it looks and is of a very different nature to Flying Buttress. All the lovely reassuring hand and foot placements are now gone and smearing and crimping are more the order of the day. I must confess to have found it much more difficult than the earlier climb. I ran the first pitch out to about 35 meters and I was quite relieved to finally reach the belay. About ten meters below after climbing up to a notch in the slab there is a climb up and to the left over a steepening and a fingery section above that I felt were very hard for a VDiff.
  The next section is little more than a scramble and is very broken and somewhat spoils the climb but a traverse to the right leads to a lovely line of clean rock to the top of the climb. This I did in one forty meter pitch and it was great. There is a tricky move out of an overhanging notch onto the ridge-line and afterwards the route continues (steeply at times) in a leftward slant to the top. This section I really enjoyed as perhaps I was getting more used to the different style and demands of climbing required by this more slabby route. The big smile on Paul's face as he followed me up told me all I needed to know about how much he was enjoying himself. He followed on each pitch with apparent ease and only needs a little more experience to get the confidence to make a fine lead climber. We had now completed two fine VDiff routes and we retreated to the car well pleased with our day. Paul was great company throughout the day and I am indebted to him for coming along and making it possible to have a great days climbing. We parted with the promise that we will have other days in the future.

Tuesday September 24th;

Alas I awoke at four in the morning with terrible indigestion that later developed into a seriously upset system and I had no option but to abandon plans to do the Parsons Arret that day and so I headed for home. The timings for all the trains and ferry worked very well and I was home for five that afternoon, feeling a little better but very very tired. A serious sleep ensued and I look forward to returning and doing more of the abundance of great climbing that the area has to offer.