A year on the dull end of the rope: A belayers perspective.

“Behind every great climb, there is an even greater belayer” - Unknown

 This year in the club has been one of its most active years. But while others were off trad climbing or hiking, I decided to focus on the solid foundation and often overlooked aspect of mountaineering – Belaying.

Getting thawed out after a particularly cold belay in Scotland

 When I joined the club several years ago I never knew what path I would take, would I become a crusty die-hard trad climber? A beanie-sporting boulderer? A hardy hiker? It really should have been clearer to me what my calling in the club was, that cold September evening when a girl called Grainne, (not the Grainne all you youngins' know, an older one), took me by the harness and thought me how to belay.

 The knowledge and experience I have accumulated since then have become an integral part of who I am. It is only for those who can have such great patience while these silly climbers fart about on their “climbs”. It is only those, who can stand there shouting overly helpful beta so you do not concentrate too much. Only those who can put up with extreme weather events such as 'sunburn' or 'windchill'.

After a lot of practice and dedication people can reach a high level of belaying. A level which I only realised recently that I was breaking into. It is a level for those who have spent years perfecting the techniques such as assisted Dyno, the ten-finger spot and the mythical no hand belay.

Rare photo of me concentrating hard on a no-handed belay.

  Belaying at a high level requires intense focus and discipline. Most climbing accidents involve a belayer in some sense, and current statistics say that for every climber tied into a rope, there is often a belayer at the other end. It is not an easy thing to take someones life into your hands, let alone to let them bask in the glory of climbing hard routes, while you reserve yourself for the peace and quiet that comes from a life of belaying.  High end belaying can often involve dangers such as uneven ground at the base of the climb, difficult access routes to meet you climber afterward, or even “flights” as they are called in the industry. Flights are the danger that every belayer must be ready for, an unexpected launch off the ground towards the heavens. It seems as of late, the harder the climb the bigger the fall and the higher the flight. Eating vast quantities of food has helped me slow such flights, or tieing myself to tress.

 This year I turned to teaching others how to Belay, and quickly gained notoriety among the freshers as being a strict tester. A rumour reached my ears that they had taken to calling me “Wicked Bill: the belay bandit” but that may have been a dream. Teaching others an important skill is no small task, and although none of my testees are in bad shape I noticed a few other unhappy mishaps about the wall who had apparently “Passed”. They were quickly sent back to the classroom and order was restored to the climbing wall, before it's citizens noticed what was afoot. (Looking at you gri-gri gropers and dead hand droppers!)

  Belaying is a great way to get out of the house for a day!”
“Do you ever climb?”
“No, fuck that.” 
- Belayer Magazine Interview 2014

 Personally I have had some fantastic belaying experiences, some of which would be seen as very experimental belaying, and even banned in some belaying circles, such as the Irish belaying association. Such experiences include but are not limited to belaying 'blind' on a multipitch in Glendalough and having to ring the climber to find out if they had finished, belaying while sitting in the drivers seat of a van in the Gap when the handbrake came off, belaying myself down an E9 in the mournes(often called abseiling) and finding out that the rope had frayed. There also have been some hairier situations, like in Scotland this year where I was so involved in finding my gloves, that Paul had practically finished the Gully climb before I had a chance to put him on belay! Was I going to allow him to steal a ripe belaying opportunity off me like that? Hell no! I made him downclimb some conveniently placed choss and start again so I could get my rush of belaying. Another tricky thing this year was learning that the correct response to “ICE!!!” is to duck your head, not look up and say “No thanks, just a straw”. 

Accepting belayer of the year award 2015

 A lot of these experiences required all of my training as a belayer and often require tough decisions. One example which gave me an ultimatum was in France this year, while the lads where climbing a multipitch frozen waterfall using twin ropes. I noticed that the ropes had started to freeze together, so feeding them out separately was starting to become a problem. Paul was already 3 ice screws up the waterfall and calling for more rope, and the way I saw it I had two choices.

 I could walk away, from everything that I had worked towards over the past few years, all of the nights standing in the sport centre hungry and wanting dinner, but often staying because my climber was still off the ground. The evenings where standing in Dalkey that I left my down-stuffed belay jacket out of reach while belaying and had to put up with a slight chill, or even days in the Gap last summer where getting eaten alive by swarms of midges and I had left the midge spray in the car.
 Or I could stand there, knee deep in snow, hands approaching freezing point and commit to what some belayers would consider one of the hardest sends of the year, knowing that if I could finish this challenge alive I would forever be in the annals of Belayer history.

Getting ready to join belayer history

Ultimately I knew that I could not leave Paul, he had the room key, so I did what any belayer in their right mind would do. I peed on Pauls ropes. As torrents of warm urine melted the layer of frigid snow and ice that had wrapped around them, and Paul screamed for more slack all I could hear was the gentle sound of nature and the sweet release knowing that I was going to make it, I was going to live to see another belay. As a party of French climbers that were approaching behind us looked on in horror, I looked past the shoulder of the climbing leader who was shouting obscenities in French, “Baise!” and “C'est ta merde!”, I could just make out a small moustached French man, who looked up not in shock, but in respect and admiration, a man who knew what it took to be a belayer, "Championne" he breathed.

So where do I go now?
I would like to focus on some harder belay projects, I hear that there are some great E12 routes left to have a second belay done on. Other projects that I am working on are things like pulley systems so your belayer does not have to walk around afterwards, or so you can bring them up multipitches with you, and a photographed guide to belaying in Ireland. To be honest I don't know. The world of belaying is as exciting as it is dynamic. And after featuring in high profiles such as this blog and a quarter page spread in Belayer Magazine I might just look into retiring. Maybe get a nice beach house in Bali where as an old man I can sit on the beach and belay from a sunchair, shouting beta at the seagulls as the tide comes in.  

 -Ross Biggane,
2015

UCDMC - A Hiker's Perspective

Another hectic year has passed, with the climbing culture within UCDMC steadily reaching an all-time high. The year saw a huge influx of new faces, some welcome, most not. The early weeks of the year saw jam-packed training sessions at the climbing wall. The usual swarms of crowds were present. Some were experienced climbers, working on the crux move up that slopey-crimpy nightmare on the lead wall. Others were complete beginners, wandering about, fighting over harnesses, desperately trying to get onto a climb so that their friend can take a picture, to be later posted on Facebook, accompanied by words to the effect of “Look everybody, I’m climber now, give me likes!”.

However, as the weeks passed by, the inevitable crowds began to fizzle out, leaving behind only the more committed freshers. Climbing skills and abilities developed rapidly with 4-5 belay tests being passed each day and a speedy progression to lead climbing soon after. Some little cocky fecker even complained that the fresher’s bouldering competition was too easy! (The culprit has since been banned from the club and removed from the Facebook group).

Naturally, the magical club trips sparked the interest of many, with a healthy handful of freshers present on each – climbing hard during the day, though generally getting way too drunk and annoying to converse with at night. The first trip to Glendalough saw ascents of many classic multi-pitches such as Fanfare, Quartz Gully and Sarcophagus. The Burren Trip, despite the risky time of year gifted everyone with superb climbing weather in Allidee, one of Ireland’s finest sea cliff climbing locations. Ireland’s longest rock climb, Carrot Ridge in Connemara, also saw multiple ascents by UCDMC members in-between drinking sessions during the New Year’s trip. The Second semester saw members embark overseas, with winter climbing in the Cairngorms, Ice climbing in Ecrins National Park, and a total invasion of the Llanberis Slate Quarries in Wales. As well as these official club events, members have managed to organize their own individual climbing trips without the assistance of the highly trained club Meets Secretaries. These included numerous trad climbing days out at Dalkey Quarry, and bouldering sessions in Glendalough.

To this point, I have failed to mention anything of my most involved club activity -the ultimate test of willpower and endurance. It is not unusual for days indulged in this area of mountaineering to extend to 9-10 hours. Some days can involve 2-3000m ascent, always done in a single pitch, though typically, ropes or protection are not used for this type of sport; all that’s carried is some food, water, and a rucksack. To make things harder, use of hands to aid oneself through the route is generally not considered part of the sport, with a sole reliance on solid foot placement and a cool head to get one to the finish. Whilst the majority of the members stick to bouldering, sport, trad, and winter climbing, these all look rather tame in comparison to my activity. It is thus no surprise that only a small handful of members have committed to wild and unpredictably dangerous sport that we refer to as Hiking.

The first Sunday hike of the year saw a ridiculously large number of members show up, 55 in total, all clearly unaware of what lay ahead. Some of the older members were present too, but made a last minute decision to pussy out and go trad climb in the valley instead. The group was split into two, one taking a slightly easier route around the Spink boardwalk (HVS 5a, 12km) whilst the other group were dragged through bog over the summit of Camaderry (E2 5c, 14km). Only 15 people returned for the second Sunday hike…

First march of the year commencing (Taken By: Brian James George Moore)

First fresher fatality (Taken By: Brian James George Moore)

Despite, the expected drop in Hikers after the first week (some too tired to walk anymore, some indefinitely lost, others probably dead), the difficulty level did not drop. A forced march was lead over Maulin (570m) , White Hill (630m), War hill (686m) and Djouce (725m) , all in all, a good E1 hike with enough bog and loose stones to warrant a technical grade of around 5b. Visibility was good for the most part, though thankfully some mist and rain drew in to wipe the smiles of people’s faces. It’s important to go out in poor weather conditions too, as hikes in pure sunshine will only lull people into a false sense of security, not allowing one to experience what proper hiking involves.

As with the climbing circle, the hiking crowd fizzled out (rather exponentially) over the course of the first semester, with the stronger hikers beginning to stand out by November (still just me at this point). Weekly hikes saw ascents of Lugnaquilla (925m) and Tonelagee (817m), as well as a grueling two day hike from Marley Park to Roundwood via the Wicklow way. We camped less than 20m away from a no camping sign, but sometimes when hiking you have to break the law a little bit if you want to make it out alive. The final hike of the semester saw an ascent of the mighty Sugarloaf (yet to be graded). The committee had to haul bottles of mulled wine and numerous boxes of mince pies to the summit where a well-deserved feast was had in celebration of this wondrous achievement.

Forced smiles all-round on Lugnaquila (Taken By: Phan Ha)

Half-drunk Sugarloaf Sumiteers

The Connemara New Year’s trip involved a memorable hike around treacherous Glencoaghan Horseshoe, situated in the Twelve Ben’s mountain range.  The hike traverses six of the twelve Bens, with approximately 1500m ascent. Visibility was typically poor for the most part, though the mist managed to clear momentarily on one of the last summits, giving way to an unforgettable sunset backdrop. As you can imagine, the vivid hues of the fading sunlight were only intensified after having spent the previous six hours hiking through a grey abyss.

Sunset peeking through from the Summit of Ben Lettery

The start of the year saw 12 members make a 16 hour train journey adventure to the Scottish Highlands to partake in a winter skills course, led by BMC guide Johnny Parr. The course was run over two days, with a traverse of Fiacaill ridge, Coire an t-Sneachda on the second day. Invaluable winter skills were passed on to the group, such as how to navigate in whiteout conditions, walking with crampons, ice axe arrests, and snow hole building. Some of the climbers were too lazy to do the hike and had to take a shortcut up a piss easy looking icy gully.

Coire an T-Sneachda, Cairngorms National Park

Semester two saw quite an increase in attendance on the Sunday hikes, partly because of the arrival of new Erasmus members, all keen to experience the Irish Alps and mystical mountain leprechauns. Routes included a very misty day out over a number of boggy hills (whose names I don’t recall fully but all began with an S), a snow hike around Glendalough, a sunny hike over Scarr Mountain (641m), a long bog trot over Mullaghcleevaun (849m) from Sally Gap, and of course a night hike from Enniskerry to Marley park (because sleeping is cheating anyway).

Summit view from Scarr Mountain

Keeping warm on the night hike by means of a campfire (Taken By: Martin Rexa)

Wicklow in prime winter conditions

Perhaps one of the more interesting Sunday hikes was the “Mystery Mountain”. With an original plan to tackle Lugnaquilla from the west side, our not so trusty bus driver made a few too many wrong turns along the way, dropping us off (somewhat stranded) at the foot of an unknown hill. After a few minutes of fumbling around with the map, we stopped a local Wicklow man with hopes of being pointed in the direction of the allusive Lugnaquilla. His reply was something along the lines of “Lug!? Be Jaysus, what in the name of Chrisht are ye doing all the way out here then, huh?”. I showed him the map and he laid one finger on where we were, and the other where he figured we thought we were. I let out long laugh, before turning back to the group to tell them the good news. In the end we decided to tackle the mystery mountain which turned out to be Keadeen (635m). All in all, an interesting hike with plenty of snow, hail, rain and an uncountable number of fence crossings. The group remained upbeat with little complaining the whole way. Whether or not they genuinely enjoyed the hike, or were just secretly planning ways to kill the hike leaders, I’m not sure, but I had the craic anyway.

Wales was undoubtedly the biggest highlight on the club hiking calendar, with an onsight ascent of the Crib Goch ridge on Snowdon, deep exploration of Dinorwig Slate Quarry and the Devil’s Kitchen. While the climbers pulled themselves up tiny sections of slate, going into fits of panic at half a meter past the last bolt, we hikers were out free soloing only the biggest Welsh hills, pushing the limits of what was possible. Each day finished in the famous café, Pete’s Eats, serving us up with some well-deserved pints of hot chocolate and monster omelettes.

Crib Goch ridge Traverse, Snowdonia (Taken By: Martin Rexa)

With the year drawing to a close, I reflect on all the misery and exertion we hikers have put ourselves through. Many people ask us, why do you go hiking? Why don’t you just sit around boulders and crags all day like us? It still counts as mountaineering they say. Perhaps it is still mountaineering, but there is something about hiking that makes us want to come back, week after week, and drag ourselves up yet another mountain. I’m really not sure what this feeling is, probably an illness of some sort, but if you ask me, it’s the most badass illness in the world.

A big thanks to Darragh Fadden, Paddy O’Neill, Paul Collins, Ross Biggane and Rory Sullivan who have all helped out with planning the hikes at some point or another over the course of the year. I hope the hiking community within the club remains in good shape for the coming years, and let the suffering continue!

Next Trip: Mourne Mountains, Co. Down. May 17^th -20^th. A select few hope to do a repeat of the infamous Mourne Wall loop hike (33km, 2700m ascent, probably E9).

-Keith O’Donovan