Crazy Germans huh? For some reason, Dennis insists on visiting the Peak District every year in the middle of summer. Undeterred by slopers hot and slippery, unfazed by clouds of midges thick, black and hungry, he returns, tries really hard, and falls off. A lot. "It's good for my head" he says. I try to convince him otherwise, at least get him out to the Lime, but he always declines. " I have much limestone in Frankenjura" . Maybe he's never experienced good connies? After a few evenings I just refuse to climb with him anymore. "See you next year," I say, "and you really should come earlier next time!"
Finally he listened, and came back for a couple of weeks in May. Much cooler than before, he starts ticking some slightly harder routes, It's still not exactly primo, but it's passable, and no midges! For his last weekend I bundle him into the car and head for North Wales, keen to show him what British climbing does best - big gnarly sea cliffs.
As is the norm for Welsh Wales, we arrive in the pouring rain. A full winter of chronic desk-related RSI has left me too weak to even consider the standard climber's wet weather option of Parisella's Cave, so we head off to explore the slate quarries. I explain some of the history, how unique slate climbing is, but he isn't one bit impressed. Rusty chains, wobbly ladders and choss scrambling sind furchtbar. We bimble round half of the Snakes and Ladders route before sacking it in.
Rostigen leitern sind schrecklich!
The next day sees sunshine and the seaside is calling! Yellow gorse flowers fill the air with their thick, buttery scent as we stumble across the cliff top. What better introduction to proper UK trad (grit really doesn't count) than Drummond's classic Dream of White Horses? An exciting ab into an impressive zawn, belaying above the sea, fiddly gear, double ropes, tons of exposure and easy climbing. Unfortunately there's another team up ahead and they're taking forever to leave the first belay. Two teams behind too, it's gonna get busy.
Under normal circumstances, climbing a girdle traverse on a popular crag on a busy Saturday is about as anti-social as queue jumping at the bar, but what if the girdle traverse is THE major route of the crag? Surely then, climbing the straight-up routes is the charmless thing to do?
Concrete Chimney - Prima!I ponder a moment, see the tangle of ropes surrounding the first team and zip off down the rope for a plan B. The tide is fully in, so we amble along the belay ledge to start the second pitch of Concrete Chimney. A delightful romp (yup, it's actually better than Dream) on steep and satisfying jugs. As planned, we're up and off in no time.
Teams on Dream of White Horses and Quartz Icicle - Toll!Basking in the sunshine, Dennis spots the striking line of the Quartz Icicle and racks up. "Make sure you take lots of nuts!" I advise, handing him my bunch of smalls, knowing full well that he's come to the UK with a double set of cams, 8 DMM Offsets and that's it.
The Icicle Pitch is amazing, nice and sustained, mostly incut holds, a bit tricky for feet at times, and generally decent gear. Dennis sprints up but stops at the first distinct crux. He dallies; heavy breathing, some bizarre Ondra-style noises, a shout of "Watch Me" and ….. oh …. he seems to have traversed into Concrete Chimney and reversed all of the way back to the belay.
Dennis Bergmann on The Quartz Icicle - Ich habe Angst!
“I am really scared of this rock. It is like nothing I have ever climbed before, I think the hold will snap, maybe you try?” Sounds good to me! And hopefully it will get me out of leading the last pitch cos I found that really hard last time!
I pull the ropes, and rack up. Dennis has only gone and left all the small nuts on the top of the cliff, no wonder he's frightened! I give it a go, micro cams seem to do okay, although I could really do with a Wallnut 3 to stop my leg from trembling. Dennis leads the top pitch in good style, having finally got his head around the double rope system, and relaxed into the weird, flakey quartzite. Grinning from ear to ear we stroll back to the van.
Next morning, I have the great idea of nipping down to Castell Helen for a quick route before the South Stack Cafe opens for breakfast. Tangled ropes, soaking wet rock, razorbills and far too much fun mean we don't reach the top until after 1pm, and we stagger into the Caff and order two lunches, each. And cake.
Dennis on North West Passage - Einfach Klasse!Unfortunately, the rest of the day isn't quite as fun. I manage to twang my shoulder on The Strand, I think the repetitive left hand slapping for 40 metres bores it to death or something, then, on his final route of the trip, Dennis totally shreds his hands on some little overhanging jam-crack up on Holyhead Mountain. And that's it, see you next year buddy!
Furchtbar!