Just an obsessive, compulsive punter really.

I'm just a punter really. A punter suffering from OCD and bordering on autistic, I suspect. Perhaps that explains my complete lack of interest in team games and activities, including my job where I'm happy in my classroom but loathe both the staff room and meetings. Though I do like watching football, surprisingly.

Being crap in PE at school, it is surprising to think that it was my PE teacher who got me into climbing. Although I was good enough in the gym, I can remember sitting out many rugby and football lessons, though I can't now remember why. The PE teacher was Eric Howells, who had been a very good climber. He'd done stuff like Vector in the sixties and had climbed in the Dolomites. He was still young but had packed it in as he began to settle down into ordinary life. I can remember flicking through some climbing book in the changing room, whilst most of the other kids were out in the mud and thinking that climbing looked much more like fun. Soon enough, I was hooked. My school mate John Roberts had been on a course at Plas y Brenin and could tie knots and belay. Eric Howells lent us the gear and we went out and taught ourselves how to climb on Capel Pinnacles and Idwal Slabs. Could you imagine any sensible teacher today doing such a thing? Imagine what could happen to somebodies career.

The OCD has been my best friend for the 40 years I've been climbing here, there and everywhere. You see, there have always been far better climbers than me. More talented and much stronger. However, over the years my obsessive nature has helped me remember the intricate sequences of so many climbs and by simply sticking at it I've had so much fun. Nige Hunt would say "Never go down"! In other words don't give in (especially when the going gets tough).

John and I worked our way through the grades, getting more and more confident, though John was much better than me. However, John's aspirations seemed to reach a plateau, whereas I wanted to keep on pushing, even though sometimes the outcome was a close run thing. We eventually went our own ways.

Trad climbing basically means climbing on sight without falling, as the gear is often very dodgy and a fall could be serious. However, sport climbing involves falling off lots (until you are able to link all the moves without falling), though it is safe because the gear is in situ bolts. This in turn means that you can do much harder climbs, with practice. Tim Lowe introduced me to sport climbing in 1987 at Malham. A whole new concept of dogging moves and repeated falls opened up new horizons. At that time Obsession and New Dawn involved me investing several days of effort before success was achieved. But it was a step up the ladder. Seeing people like John Dunne, Yorkie, Mick Lovatt and Ian Horrocks at work on their chosen projects was fascinating. I knew I'd done harder trad stuff, but they had the edge when it came down to redpointing. It took me a while to realise that they just stuck at it and "never went down".

However, there is a fine line between going on something that is achievable and something way beyond your ability. Though, when you start piecing together your chosen project you don't always know for sure. In March 1993, Glenn Sutcliffe, Keefe Murphy and I started working The Austrian Oak at Malham. Glenn was in the GB team at that time and very strong. He sent the route pretty quickly. Keefe got very close, but for some reason left it and eventually did it much later. I had to build a replica on my board and spent 13 very stressful days falling off before I wobbled my way to the chain! After 3 days it would have been easy to give up (and that's now the time I'm prepared to spend on a route, unless it is something special). However, I did stick at it and eventually got the job done, although I was much happier doing my next project (Predator) in only 2 days.

Since moving down here, I've taken on some hefty challenges. Memorable, lengthy sieges have seen me eventually clip the chains on Mortal Kombat and Barjoland (both 8b at Castillon). However, I invested a lot of time on Soul Sacrifice (8b, Deverse) and Souffle du Vizir (8b+, Peillon) only to never get the job done. I actually did Souffle du Vizir 3 times with only 1 fall on the pockets near the start, getting back on and going all the way to the top. Perhaps I should have lowered down and tried again. Who knows? It becomes hard for me to keep trying the same climb for too long, despite the possibility that the next go could be the one that counts.

So, it seems that being obsessive is great up to a point, but being compulsive can be a hindrance. In other words it is good sticking at it but sooner or later the desire to do something different takes over.

Well done to Pete Chadwick for sticking at getting the job done on Predator, despite falling off well above the hardest climbing several times and having to put up with Eddie taking the piss out of him. And good luck to him settling the score on The Oak. Stick at it mate and never go down!

Pete Chadwick sticking at it on Predator

Sticking at it on Mortal Kombat, a dream come true in 2005. No my left foot is not on the bolt. Photo by Phil Maurel,

Simon Lee on the difficult start of The Austrian Oak

Imagine my surprise.

Imagine my surprise. 

You see, there I was dozing in bed one Sunday morning, back in late 1998, and Elaine shrieked "I know what we can do" and sat up full of enthusiasm. Obviously, that put a smile of optimism on my face, but then she announced that she had a plan. "Oh" said I. As the plan was explained, I sat up and nodded along in agreement. 

But it was a brilliant plan! Put simply, it was a ticket to another life. A life far removed from the dismal wet, cold weather and an end to teaching in Britain. It involved staying in Antibes over Christmas and buying a caravan. Said caravan would be rented out and joined by a second caravan, then a third, and so on. But, it would take time. After perhaps five years, it would be possible to move down to the sunny south of France and live in one of them. Voila!

Ok, we came out with Eddie and Mandy and discovered La Turbie, Castillon and Le Gorges du Loup. Not surprisingly, we fell in love with the place (despite finding the climbing grades quite tough). We bought our first caravan that Christmas and the second the following Easter, both in a lovely campsite in Pont du Loup, with a spectacular view of Le Bar sur Loup, Gourdon and the Gorge. 

After returning home from our Easter trip, it rained for days. This was too much for my poor dear wife. Eventually, she couldn't stand it any longer. She announced: "F... waiting five years, let's go this year!" I was stunned, as my very sensible wife is not normally a person to make hasty decisions. I didn't hesitate of course. Well, who would? I quickly agreed with her, before she changed her mind!

Amazingly, we sold our house very quickly and quit our jobs. I had it all planned out in my mind: move out, live in a caravan and go climbing, then climbing the next day and the day after......... Heaven!

And then I got a job and I didn't get to go climbing every day. And Elaine also got work.

We sold the two caravans, moved into an apartment in Le Bar sur Loup and bought our house within 18 months of arriving in France. But it's not been so bad. We chose a great place to live, the weather is fantastic, the scenery amazing and we get to climb all year round. The climbing is brilliant.

Here are some tasters from this week:

Robin on a 7c+ at St Cezaire

Ced on Hot Chilli Beans Volcano (8b+) at Deverse

Kev on Hot Chilli

The classic Deverse Satanic, 8a

Ced warming up on Mecanik (7c)

Seb Bouin on PuntX (9a).

Franco on L'ethique du tacquet (7c+) at St Cezaire

What do The Bells! The Bells!, Steve Boote and The Climbing Hangar have in common?

The climb described is John Redhead's famous scarry route The Bells! The Bells! (E7 6b) on Anglesey's North Stack Wall.

Anyone who knows Steve Boote knows that he's great fun and always good for a wind up. It started at The Climbing Hangar. He encouraged us to join him in the last bouldering comp. We'd been there 3 hours already and were pretty tired. He was fresh. However, he didn't spend his time there just climbing, he was busy having a laugh behind my back and bigging up my reputation, particularly my 3rd ascent of The Bells! The Bells! way back in 1990. As we were leaving, one of the climbing coaches (Mike) said "You're Mike Owen, didn't you do the 3rd ascent of The Bells! The Bells?" (or words similar to that). We had a nice chat about the routes on North Stack and the fact that Bootie had been spreading the word.

When we next went to The Hangar, the word had spread further (much to my surprise) and one of the young lads behind the counter said "You're Mike Owen..........." Infact he then asked for my autograph (saying it was for Mike). Well, I couldn't refuse, could I?

The story really begins even further back in time. Way back in 1983, to be a bit more precise. Andy Pollitt and I come from the same area of North Wales and got to know each other through climbing at our local crag, Craig y Forwyn, in the late 70's. In 1983, he stayed with us for 3 months as he worked with me at Black's in Liverpool. We used to talk for hours about climbing, trading tales and sharing wish lists, and so on. We'd both done The Cad that same year, so obviously we sowed the first seeds about doing The Bells! The Bells! which was first climbed by the talented and very brave John Redhead. At that time it was probably the most dangerous route in Britain. Still, Andy and I were both young and we had high aspirations.

Andy moved to Sheffield and became one of the first professional climbers, making phenomenal new routes in the Peak and back in Wales. He went on to make the coveted 2nd ascent of John's death route test piece in 1986. I have his signature on the Berghaus poster from the time in the cave downstairs (next to Phil Davidson soloing Right Wall in 1984). It took me a few years longer to realise my dream.

The Berghaus poster showing Andy Pollitt making the coveted 2nd ascent of The Bells! The Bells! in 1986 (Andy's faded signature is down right from his right hand).

June 1990: Twid and I were onsighting E6's and E7's in Wales and we had both done a few 8a sport routes by then. So we were pretty fit and still young enough to be brave. We were working our way through the North Stack routes and both of us had eyes on doing The Bells! The Bells. I couldn't believe nobody had done it since Andy. I finished my degree and had time to climb before entering the teaching profession. Twid got busier with guiding and had less time. So, it was there for the taking, if only I was up to the challenge.

Graham George and I abbed down North Stack Wall on a reasonable busy day and I set of on-sight. To be honest, things didn't feel right. I remember finding the start (in common with The Cad) harder than it should have been. At the end of the first traverse I placed a small offset HB2 which was basically the only thing between me and the floor. After several half hearted attempts to commit myself to the moves leading to John's 10 year old peg I called for a toprope which, thankfully, arrived pretty quickly. I cursed myself for being a wimp as the move seemed ok, albeit with protection from above. However, I found the (wrong) sequence going rightwards from the peg desperate and covered in "grandfather's whiskers" vegetation so typical at Gogarth. It was a very empty feeling I had at the top. Ok, I'd climbed The Bells! The Bells! but hadn't actually led it on the sharp end of the rope. To tell the truth I was gutted even though I had underestimated the severity of the challenge. Still, Graham was well chuffed to follow, which he did impeccably. I returned, much better prepared, next weekend but I was still concerned about the moves right from the peg.

Saturday 9th June 1990. There was a lot of moisture in the air and the sky was grey. Still I was ready, the time had come to either realise my dream or die on the jagged boulders at the foot of the cliff. I abseiled down The Bells! to brush off the vegetation and to tie off the peg, which was in a pretty sorry state after ten years of weathering. I was shocked when I saw a line of finger incuts going directly above the peg. This was the obvious sequence to gain the second traverse where, later on again, I was shocked to find a bomber Hex 4 placement just to the left whilst doing The Hollow Man with Phil Ralph!

There was nobody there at all, just Elaine and me. Therefore no chance of a top rope this time. The boulders were slippery and it was very still and quiet.  It was do or die. So I set off up the start of The Cad, traversed right to a good foothold and put the HB2 in again. Without hesitating, I committed myself into serious terrain, where it was up to me alone to see this thing through to the end, come what may! I dared not look at the tied off peg as I followed the line of incuts up to the start of the second traverse. There is a shield of rock there where I spent ages trying to get in some dodgy rp's and a tape sling over the top. The seriousness of my position was gnawing away at my concentration (if only I'd known that Hex 4 was nearby!). I have never been so totally frightened in all my years climbing, as I was from that shield onwards. I seemed to be looking down at myself tiptoeing across, with the ropes trailing uselessly down to the left of me. By the time I gained the shallow groove that led to the top I was almost completely spent and there was no meaningful gear to stop me decking out from about 150 feet. There was a nasty sting in the tail: on the last difficult move I felt a tiny foothold break off as I delicately weighted it. For a moment I swear that I thought I was going to fall to my death. At this point, Elaine was well aware of the mess I was in and was weighing up her possible options to run over the slippery boulders in an attempt to take in the slack if I fell. She told me afterwards that she realised there was nothing she could have done! Somehow, I told myself to calm down and test with my foot to see if there was enough left to stand up on. I crawled over the top and just lay there, utterly spent and sobbing as it all sank in. After a long time, I set up an abseil to strip the gear. You should have seen the smile on my face by the time I got down to Elaine. And I've been wearing it ever since!

The incuts above the peg that lead to the second traverse. This section of The Bells! is shared with The Hollow Man, a harder but safer direct version first climbed by Andy Pollitt. Elaine took this photo (from an abseil rope) of me making the 3rd ascent on 17/6/90. This photo became a DMM poster used in outdoor shops.

At the time I was testing gear for DMM, hence the Mammut harness, Mammut ropes, La Sportiva shoes,  DMM chalk bag, nuts, quickdraws and the shoddy La Sportiva tights!