Not the Big Trad Man

Doing Dalriada has me psyched to get my trad-climbing game up.  What else are you going to do in Scotland where the lack of good, dry, midge free, high 8 sport routes are countable on the thumbs of one hand?!

With a day off and a forecast that looked doomed to failure, Cobes, B and I went to Glen Nevis.  We were late in arriving as they still haven't done anything to improve the A82 on Loch Lomond.

As a 3 is always inconvenient when tradding, I left the guys to enjoy a few classics that I had done many years ago with my dad,  Plague of Blazes E2 and Travellin Man E3 on Gorge Crag.  Thinking myself to be the next best thing in trad climbing since Dave MacLeod I headed up to Wave Buttress, where the guys wanted to go to next, and dropped a rope down Jodicus Direct which a couple of years ago Dave had climbed headpoint without the peg at E7.

First trip down the route on the Gri-Gri and I found the little sideways RP that protects the crux and a really good RP which could potentially be placed mid-crux if you could hold on to place it.  The crux moves were delicate with small holds that I couldn't quite get my sausages in to.  Yet I could still do it if I trusted my feet well.

Reaching the bottom, I climbed straight back up on the Gri-Gri, placing all the pieces.  Well that was easy enough!  I abbed back down.  Certainly when you saw all the gear in place the hard moves were protected and even if you couldn't get the mid-crux runner in the sideways RP at your feet would probably hold.  At worst it was down to a cluster of good cams.  Nothing too dangerous.  Just a big ride down a slabby wall.

I went up again.  Cleaned the gear out and waited at the bottom.  The guys arrived.  The wind dropped.  The midges arrived.  The air temperature increased.  I wanted to do it though. I got on lead.  Hot and bothered by the time I reached the first low RPs I climbed back down.  I needed to wait for better conditions.

The shadow came round again and a gust picked up from the summit of a neighbouring Munro.  I went again and climbed comfortably enough to the cams.  I paused a long time.  I could feel the hormones pulsing through my body.  Not endorphins, not adrenaline, this wasn't a buzz.  It was pure cortisol.  Fear and stress.  I stood for ages rationalising it all in my head.  I tugged the cams umpteen times. Bomber. I controlled the fear, pressed on up.  Into the crux I paused and successfully placed the RP well, clipped it, then somehow reversed to the comfort of the stance.  I got all my strength back.

Well this was it, the crux was protected after all.  I felt strong. I could do this thing no problem.  Yet the fear was hanging over me.  It glued me to the foot ledge until my legs went numb and I couldn't feel my toes.  I had better do something.

I climbed back up facing fear directly in the eyes.  With precision I got the hand holds well and I crushed them.  I got my foot up.  I just had to trust it, get the other up and all would be well.  The runner was at my chest.

I SAID "TAKE". FEAR TAKES THE WIN.

I tortured myself about wimping out all the way home.