The 21st of June is a special time for climbers. The sun is high in the sky, maximum daylight hours for climbing, dry mountain crags. Surely the high point of a trad climber’s year?. You can be one of those twisted individuals, hankering for snow and ice and winter climbing, longing for the hayfever to end. If that is the case the solstice is the turning point towards your own personal freezing idea of heaven. Or you can revel in the moment, enjoy the magic that is about to occur. Climbing is like a religion for many of us, and this is the nearest we have to a ‘religious festival’. Most of those seem to have hijacked pre-existing festivals coinciding with recurring astronomical events anyway, so why not reclaim our own?
I tried to sow the seed of a dawn-til-dusk, multi-crag enchainment. However, this was quickly vetoed by Will and Claire, two fellow sun-worshippers, albeit ones that liked their sleep a bit much. No one likes an evangelist, and I was hijacking their trip anyway. I therefore resigned myself to just go with the flow. If every crag could be considered a place of devotion, today we need a cathedral. The foreboding gothic architectural might of Clogwyn D’ur Arddu is a worthy venue.
Cloggy is in shadow for most of the day, and the breeze is chill. Duncan has walked up in shorts and is soon suffering for his lack of legwear. Claire just so happens to have a shiny blue unitard in her bag. Duncan just so happens to have the figure and attitude to style it with aplomb.
We head for The Sheaf, not the outstanding ale-and-whisky pub in Sheffield. But the seven-pitch HVS that weaves its way through the overlaps of the West Buttress. However there’s a party on it already, and another waiting. In fact, nearly every route in the Ground-Up North Wales Rock Selective guidebook is occupied. Apart from one, White Slab.
This 6 pitch E2 starts with a long, intricate and unprotected traverse. We instigate an alternative version of Rock Paper Scissors awarding the lead to Will. The first section is, without a doubt, the psychological crux of the whole route. The delicate, balancey moves and the prospect of a hard pendulum into the ground should you fluff it.
We all take our sweet time, not wanting to impact our pride or worse. As I pull on to the first belay ledge, completely out of the blue, a rock the size of a pomelo is dislodged from high on the cliff and smashes onto the ledge, just brushing the skin of my thumb. No clattering sound, no warning shout, no nothing. Two inches to the left and I’d have lost a hand for sure, two inches to the right and I’d be writing a review on how impact absorbent these new polyurethane helmets are, but as it is, it’s a lucky escape. Enough drama, the rest of the route is delightfully delicate slab climbing, nicely exposed and a total gift at the grade.
Down below, in the sunshine, a couple strip off and dive into the tarn, while Claire and I shiver on the next belay. To keep warm we break into the belay dance, a foolproof, tried and tested method of heat generation. For someone who’s studied ballet and contempary dance, her moves are pretty wack. I teach her how to douggie, and do the willie bounce, and we’re toasty warm in no time. On the face of it, choosing a crag that faces due north, with a stiff northerly breeze blowing straight onto it might seem like an odd choice. However at certain times of day, namely early morning and late evening, the buttresses and faces become illuminated, with the shadows shifting and colours deepening as we spin towards the sunset. On the longest day of the year, you get more time in the sun. It’s that simple.
Inexplicably the crag empties, just as the whole of the East Buttress is bathed in a warm orange glow. While Claire goes for a swim, Will and I romp up the plumb line of November. E3 5c it certainly ain’t, more like steep 5a all the way with a bit of 5b here and there, but we’re not complaining. Well, Will’s guts are, a bit, and he trumps his way triumphantly up the big pitch.
There are just two real certainties in life: farts will always amuse and sunsets will always enthrall. We linger a while to watch the sun slide beneath the horizon before stumbling off down the hill.
The day’s not over yet though… it seems like every climber in North Wales is in the mood to celebrate summer, so we head to Anglesey for an all-night techno party! You could draw parallels with the state of the universe, total chaos initially bound within the strict mathematical forms of pumping techno music, eventually entropy prevailing. Only the bravest manage to climb the next day.