Moaning about climbing

If climbing this year has a low point, I reckon it came this weekend. A perfect sunny Sunday, partners lined up for a day in the Wye Valley, but I stayed at home. Less than a month ago I felt on a roll, pushing myself on trad routes, but since then I’ve done nothing.

There are plenty of good reasons. I’ve struggled to shake off a bad cold, exacerbated by a hectic work schedule. My knackered shoulder is taking its time to heal. I’ve just been tired. It’s one of those periods when living in London is tough. Even if I were dead beat, I would happily bodge out to the crag for an afternoon’s bouldering if it were a half-hour drive, but a minimum of 90 minutes in the car to reach rock – and those 90 minutes on the gladiatorial M25 – acts as a powerful deterrent when I’m exhausted.

The feeling that the summer of climbing is already waning only adds to my mood. Work and family commitments mean I’ve got one weekend and one day out before going to Sri Lanka at the end of August, and by the time I get back, get over the jetlag and long flight, it’s coming on for mid-September. And whilst the autumn can be one of the best times for climbing in the UK, it’s overshadowed by brooding November and chilly December ready to storm over the horizon.

But… hold on a minute.  I’ll be rested from my holiday in SL (which, in case it looks like I’m carping, I’m super-psyched about). The autumn is perfect for sports – and trad for that matter – down on the south coast. Perhaps I’ll tick my E2 down at scary old Swanage at the fag end of the year. Routes on the grit should be climbable well into October if we’re lucky with the rain. My shoulder may be iffy, but it’s getting better. And I have booked a three day trip to Catalunya in November, and hopefully will manage another weekend away on the continent before Christmas.

The year’s not over yet!