The Blind Man of Hoy Read online

  This didn’t fully address the issue of left and right but helped minimise the scope for error (on the climbing wall at least, it’s rare to cross your arms). We toyed with the idea of sewing an L and an R to the backside of my trousers but left this as a last resort as it is easier for a fat man to pass through the eye of a needle than for a blind man to thread one.

  Distance proved a knottier problem, not only because of my adherence to imperial measurements that went out of fashion shortly after I was born, but by the difference in perspective between the man on the ground and the ascending climber. Eventually we settled on a system of hand widths from the hold I was gripping to the one I was aiming for.

  Neither of these solutions was foolproof but they should, we thought, provide a good and simple basis for getting my hands and feet in the right area. Andres then pointed out that in my impatience to locate the next hold I tended to ‘stab in the dark’ which meant I often went all around the target; he suggested moving my hands and feet in a widening spiral till I hit what I was seeking – ‘also it will make you look more cool on the wall, not like you are in distress’ he added. Coming from a suave Colombian bantam this was advice I resolved to take.

  Matthew had been looking at walkie-talkies and wanted to know exactly what I needed from a system. Being by far the least technically minded of the three of us I wasn’t sure whether what I wanted actually existed but told him it had to provide two-way hands-free communication with a small, single earpiece and mike that left my other ear open to take in what was going on around me. He said he’d have a look at what was on the market. I hoped it wasn’t going to prove too expensive.

  This led to more beer and further discussion of other tools we could employ. I said I’d try wearing a head torch, to see whether it helped me distinguish between the coloured holds that made up the different routes on the wall (anything from green to violet is just a shade of grey to me), and dig out some tinted glasses I’d once been given which are designed to increase contrast.

  As closing time approached and we got chatting about outdoor climbing and places we could go, I was feeling positively buoyant. All this was so much in tune with the Paralympics. Maybe technology could provide me with the visual equivalent of carbon-fibre blades. Who knew what mountains I might yet climb? Then it slipped out. I told them of my dream to climb the Old Man of Hoy and from that moment I became a project.

  5

  Gearing Up

  ‘Now I approach climbing differently. I have learned less effort and energy, less obsession, and more feeling, as with piano, more emphasis and less frenzy’

  – Pat Ament

  That night in the pub put the three of us on a different footing. It kindled the flame of common enthusiasm for an activity that lies at the heart of so many male friendships – when we’d discussed climbing weekends away there was more than beer talking. Also, it had established roles for us all, which is the secret to all successful teamwork. Each Thursday, between lunchtime and pick-up, we met at Swiss to climb, chat and work on streamlining the process of getting me up the wall.

  The clock-face system worked well, though the centre-point proved to be located at my bellybutton and left and right remain an issue to this day. Distance too saw a marked improvement though we soon abandoned the hand-width measure in favour of educating Andres in the arcane world of feet and inches. He in turn taught Matthew and me much of the terminology of climbing (see Appendix A) allowing me especially to adopt correct positions far more swiftly.

  Matthew it turned out had done a bit of climbing before, which made his rapid progress slightly less galling, and his enthusiasm on the wall was infectious. As the weeks continued Andres began to set challenges for us that made use of both our strengths and weaknesses, some of which we had in common and some of which allowed one of us to shine, so that neither of us felt outstripped by the other. Most weeks Matthew and I would leave our 60-minute session a good 15 minutes late and continue our competitive banter on the walk up to the school gates.

  He had also been busy in his allotted task, using his expertise in research to identify a couple of companies to whom he’d outlined our needs. One had come back with a potential solution but this was far from cheap and, having just forked out for a new harness, I was loath to pursue the option until we’d established there was no inexpensive alternative.

  So, one Tuesday lunchtime in late September, we met in Camden Town for a bite to eat and a doomed expedition to Maplin’s. By now it was taken as read that any equipment we invested in would need not only to be suitable for use indoors at Swiss but also durable enough to survive rough treatment and bad weather on some desolate outdoor crag. Over an excellent burger in Camden Lock he made me go over again, in order of importance, my precise requirements.

  The radios needed to be: 1) light; 2) provide two-way hands free communication for both climber and belayer; 3) have a single earpiece that would loop over the ear and stay in place; 4) have a mike that would not get caught in the rope; 5) be durable, shock proof and water resistant; 6) have decent battery life and be easy and fast to recharge; 7) have a good range and more than a couple of channels.

  The sales assistant seemed bright and keen enough to help, though I sensed a raising of the eyebrows both at our intended end-use for the radios and Matthew’s uncompromising, staccato delivery of our list of demands. But stranger things happen every day in Camden and he equipped us with a system that he assured us should tick all the boxes.

  It didn’t.

  We returned a few days later and reiterated that if the climber, or belayer, had to press a button to transmit then accidents were going to happen. Seemingly we were asking the impossible and we left with a full refund. I felt guilty at having wasted Matthew’s time and worried that the whole idea might be an expensive distraction. I tried to communicate my concerns to Matthew but he was on a mission now. He knew that there was a solution out there and he was going to track it down. So my message was not received. Between his fulminations about the incompetence of others, I suspect he was enjoying himself.

  In the fortnight following the Camden debacle we considered using mobiles or Skype, only to abandon the ideas on grounds of coverage, cost or potential damage. Piling had started on the building site behind Swiss and Andres was beginning to sound like he’d been gargling broken glass. It was clear that the only way to reduce stress and the risk of voice polyps lay with two-way radio.

  Matthew set up a meeting with an expert and if Paul Rawlings was as smart as he dressed I reckoned we were onto a winner. The MD of Paramount Radio Communications wore a well-cut suit when he met us at Islington Business Design Centre, and to each subsequent meeting. He had clearly listened to Matthew’s exacting criteria and had brought three different models and various different headsets for us to try.

  There was no pressure to buy, just genuine enthusiasm to provide a solution to a project he was clearly delighted to be involved in (I was to discover that he has a friend whose son is not only partially-sighted but has done a bit of indoor climbing). We tested and discussed the merits of each system and opted for a Motorola plugged into a very natty earpiece with a bendy mike bar that was small, close fitting and appeared relatively indestructible. Paul said he’d order us a pair to play with for a couple of weeks then come to Swiss to see how they and we were getting on.

  The difference they made was immediate and profound. Although we had a few teething troubles (arising mainly from the sheer volume of background noise causing the microphones to transmit when we didn’t want them to, and the difficulty of finding a channel not being used by construction workers or local taxi firms), having Andres’ instructions delivered directly into my ear made the vast majority of them instantly intelligible. I climbed more fluently and he, not constantly being shouted at to repeat himself, became more confident in his guidance. Stress levels all round fell significantly as a result.

  Something else that made a surprising difference to my confidence was wearing a helmet
. After a couple of bruising encounters with overhangs and juggy handholds I sacrificed coolness for common-sense, reasoning that I’d need to wear one outdoors anyway and that it helped keep the earpiece in place.

  Over the following month or so Matthew and I made rapid progress so that by December we were both competent on indoor 5c routes – not yet Old Man of Hoy level but heading in the right direction. As with all sport climbing (ie, where artificial protection or holds are in-place), a climbing wall is measured in French (F) grades that equate to a lower measure of technical difficulty on the British trad climbing (unprotected) scale (see Appendix B). Thus my F5c level at Swiss meant I could expect to climb 4c trad routes, putting only the crux pitch of the Old Man out of my reach.

  So why was I still prevaricating and not committing to an attempt on Hoy? Each week Matthew would press me to make a decision. He was keen, Andres was up for it, we’d got the communications sorted and could cobble together much of the other equipment we’d need. If this was my dream, what was my problem?

  I’d begun by using the excuse that I needed to finish off my sequel to Blind Trust, but as we all knew that had turned to dross weeks before. It wasn’t as if the dream glittered any the less for being within reach, quite the opposite.

  However, whereas I could be pretty certain that with a bit of work I could achieve the technical grade, I was less confident of making the adjectival grade. This other part of the British trad climbing system gives an overall picture of how hard the whole route is (unlike the technical grade which just rates the hardest move) – how sustained it is, how exposed you can expect to feel.

  The Old Man is an E1 not an HVS: – E for Extreme. It was a long, hard, vertical slog, with overhangs. And by committing to it I’d be exposing myself to fear of letting others down to some extent and not living up to their belief in me, but more viscerally, fear of not being up to the challenge and having, yet again, to admit defeat of my hopes.

  I decided to have a chat with Cole Styron, the Director of Operations at High Sports, the company that owns Climb London. Like many a good trad climber he has a laid-back manner that belies a deep-rooted wild streak. This was perfectly expressed in his possession of both a law degree and a love of extreme sports. We’d got to know each other pretty well over the three years that he’d been based at Swiss and while his straight-talking Oklahoman appraisals of situations and individuals did not always win him favour with his staff, I respected his opinion.

  In an email entitled ‘an honest question’ I asked:

  ‘In ALL honesty would I be kidding myself and others to even think of attempting the Old Man this August/September (or at all)?’

  His response was encouraging:

  Hi Red,

  Fucking go for it!

  Seriously, however, you’ll need to really start training on actual rock, which is very, very different than the plastic stuff in the gym. From the smidgen of research I’ve done on the Old Man, it seems to be at least in part a crack climb, so you’ll definitely need to start working some of that into your training schedule outdoors, as it’s not something I can provide you with at Swiss. If you fancy some trips up to the Peak District in the springtime I’m sure we could work that out.

  The other issue is of course that the Old Man of Hoy is a trad climb, so there’s more to it than just the climbing. You’ll need to develop some technical ropework skills, some abseiling experience, and a bit of other general knowledge.

  The East Face (which is the classic route) is an E1 5b (which is probably French 6b+ but will feel harder). You’ll need at least one partner who leads E2 and up quite solidly. I don’t personally fancy it (I’ll explain why next time I talk to you in person), but there are people who work for us that might. I can ask around. To be perfectly candid, I don’t think either Trevor or Andres would be suitable as your lead guy.

  Logistically I think it makes sense for you to climb with two others. There is no walk off, but instead a series of abseils. You would probably need more guidance coming down than going up (up is always the easy part), so you should probably be the middle man on the descent so that someone goes down first and is waiting at the anchor for when you come down.

  We’ve got some tricky routes at Swiss, up to about 7b+ on the 14m wall. It may be time to orchestrate some proper training, rather than just climbing, into your sessions, but we can talk about this in the new year. I’m done on Wednesday and won’t be back until the 2nd, but let’s catch up then.

  You should quit smoking anyway Red. You’ve got kids and a wife, all of whom probably want you around for the foreseeable future.

  Merry Christmas,

  Cole

  Of all those who’d watched my progress and knew the challenges of a climb of the magnitude of the Old Man, Cole was the best placed to give an opinion and the least likely to blow hot air up my backside. If he was saying ‘go for it’ then really I had no excuse. 2014 might be too late; RP isn’t a static condition and just when you’ve come to terms with the level it’s reduced you to it has a nasty habit of plunging you deeper into darkness.

  Still I prevaricated, until ten days later I found myself necking red wine at that pre-Christmas party and, I suppose, building up my Dutch courage.

  6

  The Cole Styron Workout – Part 1

  ‘Set definite targets’

  – Joe Simpson,

  Touching The Void

  The ‘bit of work’ that Trevor had suggested as preparation for the climb turned out to be a full body refurb. I’d envisaged losing a bit of Åweight, doing a few chin-ups and giving up the two or three cigarettes I still smoked most evenings, but Cole had other ideas.

  With remarkable serendipity my wife, never a fan of my nightly lung pollution, gave me an electronic cigarette for Christmas. It proved exceedingly effective and filled with an insane zeal for bodily purification I decided to go the whole hog and do what I had for years scoffed at others for doing. I gave up drinking for January.

  This seemed to shock more people than my earlier announcement about the climb but it pleased Matthew and Andres as a clear statement of intent. I treated it stoically as the sternest test of my resolve. At least it was until Cole’s email turned up a couple of weeks into that dark and gloomy month.

  Hi Red

  OK, before starting the following training programme, do not lose heart if you aren’t seeing progress. Progress is a slippery thing and comes when you least expect it. I’ve been working hard for the last six weeks with little effect and getting a little down myself. Then last night I went bouldering and suddenly for no good reason I saw a dramatic improvement. Time and commitment are the main factors, as near as I can tell.

  Training Programme

  This programme is really based on general climbing fitness and will last for the next four weeks only. After that, we’ll change things to a new programme. This first phase is meant to supplement the most important thing you could possibly be doing right now, which is climbing as much as possible.

  All four weeks: 3 sessions of climbing (your choice of days) for 90-120 min each week. One session should include 2x20 min of traversing without touching the floor if possible. Bring an iPod! These endurance sessions are really important (as well as really boring) and build capillarity, which is what keeps you on the rock more than anything else. You should also ask Andres to show you some games like silent climbing, and no-handed slab climbing. The next phase will start to get a little more performance-specific and we’ll also probably get a shot to go outdoors.

  Week 1

  Monday, Wednesday, Friday:

  After stretching and warming up, do six sets of the following:

  One set is:

  3 pull-ups (palms facing away, always) then

  1 one-arm (each arm one time) hang to failure from the pull-up bar

  Rest as long as necessary between sets, but aim to have the whole thing done in under an hour.

  Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday:

  After stretching
and warming up, do six sets of the following:

  One set is:

  7 push-ups (press-ups?), then

  Max crunches (or stop at 30)

  Rest as long as necessary between sets, but aim to complete in an hour.

  Sunday: Rest

  Week 2

  Repeat Week 1 workout, but do 4 pull-ups and 10 push-ups. Max crunches stop at 40.

  Week 3

  Repeat Week 2 workout, but do 7 pull-ups and 15 push-ups. Also, instead of one-arm hangs, on sets 4-6 do one 90-degree lock off and hold until failure. A lock off is where you do a normal pull up, then lower until your arms are bent at a certain angle (e.g. 90 degrees) and hold. If your body starts shaking, you’re doing it right.

  Week 4

  Monday, Wednesday, Friday:

  Stretch/Warm up, then start with a few pull-ups (perhaps 5 or so) to get the blood flowing, then give yourself a three minute rest. Then,

  3 sets of 10 pull-ups, then a solid rest, then

  3 sets of Frenchies with 7 minutes of rest between each set

  One Frenchy is a pull-up, lower to 60 degrees, hold for 5 seconds then lower completely, followed by another pull-up, lower to 90 degrees and hold for 5 seconds, then lower, followed immediately by another pull-up, lower to 120 degrees and hold for 5 seconds then lower completely.

  Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday:

  200 push-ups in as many sets as it takes you (if you can’t finish during your workout, finish them later in the day, but get 200)

  Max crunches for sets 1-3

  2min bicycle crunches for sets 4-6 (check internet if unsure what ‘bicycles’ are)

  Do all this faithfully and at the end of 4 weeks your wife is going to mistake you for the Polish builders you’re so fond of in Blind Trust, or I’ll eat my hat.