PEACE on Chirstmas by Stevie gone caving Haston

IL MILIED IT-TAJJED

HAPPY CRISTMAS

 JOYEUX NOEL

 BUON NATALE

 BON NADAL

 FELIZ NAVIDAD,

GOD JUL

Wesołych Świąt!

HYVÄÄ JOULUA 

 Καλά Χριστούγεννα

Fröhliche Weihnachten

 NADOLIG LLAWENL !

Recent La Rambla, ramble, Stevie Haston.

The stupemdous Rambla and the great Dani Andrada

Enzo Oddo (French) does the Rambla 9a+, he is 16 now, not bad at all.  Some good French lads cranking at the moment, but as with most countries the industry is not supporting the climbers, and climbing is not reflecting the standards of these fine athletes. Ondra continues to dominate the field but has unfortunately chosen to pursue bouldering for a short while. His success at this is not a great surprise to many given his brilliant background but his recent flash of a Font 8b+ standard is not moving the bar but breaking it. With his inevitable return to rockclimbing,  9c will come. It is a happy thought perhaps that 16 year olds are cruising La Rambla, and with that one I will leave you for a bit of inspired training.

1000 pull ups, by Stevie Haston

Tools of the trade; pull up station, carpet, music is optional.

It’s raining, or snowing, or something disagreeable. My partner is sick so I don’t want to drag her out belaying (I must be getting soft) so training. 

1000 pull ups all kinds, not too bad, in fact better than expected or dreaded. Was able to pull up on ‘Kirsty's pinch’, but only after listening to the song line, ‘Save me from the nothing I have become’. Right arm one arm up very bad, mental note, must watch more internet porn! Felt naffed off before, now feel totally energized.

Save me from the nothing I have become. There’s oceans I’ave never swum in, snow to surf (its dumping in Italy), there’s a project I need to do.

Yoga climbing, by Stevie novice Haston.

Always listen to the guru, you can do it this way or

 The Yoga breathing is working for the climbing, but its not working so well for my swimming, phooee! The problem with my climbing now is that I am relatively weak. The Yoga has worked because it has maximised my potential at this level of strength, but I cant do any better. In fact I think I am really lucky to have squeezed out my last few ascents. So in truth it’s back to some basic training because I lack the ability to do a long sustained sequence, or a hard powerful pull, or two.

or this way

In my underwater swimming its very different, much of the success of the sport could be in controlled by breathing controlling the mind, and therefore the success of the dive. In this respect diving is much more like engaged (or run out climbing), but whereas my ability to control fear in climbing is very high, my ability to control panic with diaphragm contractions, at half way thru a dive is very low! It’s depressing as my normal level of control within the fear department in different sports is high. Anyway I will keep trying hard at both my climbing and swimming. In climbing the correct form of mind control has escaped me most of the time  for the very hard routes, so although its not doing me much good now, if I can continue with my training perhaps by the time I regain an optimum physical form I wont waste it!

 or this way

For other people this ‘succeed mindset’ I think is a must acquire accoutrement because nearly everybody I’ve seen climbing in over forty years hesitates, and in climbing as in much else he who hesitates is lost. The problem with climbing is you are right to hesitate because you don’t want injury or death. However sport climbing is safeish, so clearly don’t hesitate ‘go for it’, venga, Dai dai, allez, good luck, clip those chains. For me its back to basic training, power pull-ups, and core, and timing. And if you think this is all guff, think back to some of your failures, or failures you have witnessed, and watch for the slowing down, and the stop in time, before the slump on the rope, or the harmless fall that seemed so terrifying. Good luck with controlling your inner voice or more prosaically stop being a scaredy cat.

or like that!

Grivel G20 Mono crampon, by Steve Spiky Haston.

‘The Winter of our content’ is apon us and we must sling some spiky things around, upon, and anon. Anyway the G20 is the business for sure, it’s the best Mono around, but still manages to be useful as an ordinary crampon on more normal climbs. Its boot compatibility is the best on the Market and it is the lightest crampon that I have ever used apart from protos and personal weapons of Mass destruction. This crampon should be happy from Scotland to the Grand Jorrasses. 

Check details on Grivel site http://www.grivel.com/

Zee Mystery of climbing, by Stevie the sage Haston.

In 6 weeks I haven’t really been climbing but I managed 8a+ today. How is it possible? Some years I tried fairly hard, and never made it past 8a+, what is going on? I guess I am very fit, both Cardio wise and in a muscle sense, but this seems too good to be true. For the last 10 years I have been thinking that climbing is quite complex, but in some ways you might be able to say it is simple. Or is it complex and simple, depending on you, yourself, and more importantly the link between you and your mind. My mind and body are in tune at the moment (I hope it stays that way), my body is not very strong but it seems to know what it is doing without to much instructing from the computer, and more importantly I think the computer is not overloaded with info, or talking to the body. If this is too deep for you, don’t worry, don’t take any notice. If you think you understand, try following thru with it for your self. I am doing a lot of mind disassociation at the moment, thru walking, running, yoga and swimming, and success in climbing means very little to me. It could all be nonsense of course and that in reality 8a and 8a+ are not hard.

“The most important muscle is the mind”, Wolfgang Amadeus Gullich-muscle perfect climber.

 Who knows? I have noticed that when I practise yoga breathing my climbing is always better, and I have been doing a fair bit recently. My wife Laurence who teaches Kundalini Yoga is helping me thru some scepticism, and laziness,  with my Pranayama, and I am making a tiny bit of progress, I will continue with it because it helps me in other ways,  rather than just climbing.

“Try to use the mind more, and not the muscles”, Jacques Mayol –free-diving legend.


I was recently thinking about not climbing for a while, but to days success cheered me up no end. Just before climbing I was thinking how my climbing was not rewarding, and how I just climbed in many ways only for duty, and other reasons.  So when I arrived at the chain I actually felt pleased at how everything had turned out, it was just really nice,  no stress, no fooking furries, so I’ll have some more of that , I think, yes please.
So a few months climbing and watch how things are going, and see if I can get up to a decent standard.  Oh well here we go again, but this time we will try it in a more gentle way.  

“The most important thing is not muscles or mind, but that far place where you are in harmony, it is not Shangri-la, it is within you, but finding it, you need more than Google, you need a guru”, Stevie the sage Haston.

And what is a decent standard Obi one? I wont talk about climbing because it is something I am too good at, so instead I think my journey will be 40 meters horizontal, 40 meters depth and over 4mins static breath hold. And perhaps I will never arrive, but I will try, and if you don’t try you cannot succeed, and if you fear failure, you will surely add to your burden. And of course the greatest journey starts with the first step, and everything starts with the breath, and you will surely die when you stop to breath. 

“What is old age? Old is a shallow breath. People who take deep breath never feel old. They can be old but never feel old. Is your breath of life conscious and deep?” Yogi Bhajan

The Adventure Guide Book to the Maltese Islands, review by Stevie Haston.

The Maltese Islands are a very short hop for Brits, or North Euros in general, and as a big plus, the flights are reasonable in price. For these two reasons alone Malta is worth thinking about for a week, or maybe two, a nice little break from rain. This small pocket sized guide book is a very convenient reference for climbing, deep water soloing, bouldering, hiking, and Diving. There is alotta climbing on Malta but with the addition of the other activities covered in this book, the place seems more attractive to me. The advice, access, and general layout of the book are great and very helpful. The part on deep water soloing is not covered in the specific climbing guidebook, so this book might be interesting for people who don’t know what to expect. The deep-water soloing thing is pretty good, and is getting better all the time. Young Jonnie Dawes has just paid a visit and did a knew E6, other people to have passed thru are Sonnie Trotter, every body likes it, so maybe it’s worth a try. Water temps can be a comfy 22 degrees in November, dropping over Xmass, and not picking up till after May, Anyway there you go, a very practical little book on lots of diverse activities. You might be tempted into taking a Diving course, as the visibility is some of the best in the world, and there are many wrecks, caves and lots of interest, mostly from the shore which can make things very reasonably priced. Malta and Gozo are defo worth a little trip of a week, things are layback, and not too serious, so check this guide out, and the more comprehensive bigger general climbing guide.

Maltese Climbing, Maltese Madness, by Stevie completely normal Haston.

unclimbed cliff!

Just spent three weeks in Malta and Gozo, what can I say, apart from being very happy and comfortable with reaffirming my Maltese roots. I’ll be honest from the start, I did the tinniest bit of climbing and the maximum amount of free diving. The Maltese side of the family are reassuringly still doing their thing, a bit of farming, some work, too much eating, and family stuff. It was easy to drop right back into this life, talking serious one second, nonsense the next, catching fish and being mellow with the help of a few beers. My Maltese climbing friends were full of smiles and laughter, generous and warm like the climate. The editor of Pareti climbing mag was their doing a piece on the climbing, and it was reassuring to see at least one climbing editor-scribbler who can climb rather than just talk and copy/paste. Andrea climbs 8a regularly and has done 8c he was happy with his stay and we hope to see more Italians coming to our small islands. On the day I met Andrea, Simon Alden (Malta climbing club) and I re-discovered a great cliff, and we started doing routes, they will be very good. I also re-discovered the hard work involved in cleaning and bolting and have to thank Gozo Climbing association for the bolts- thanks Xavier. My tally of new stuff was only one new route, but it is the best corner crack on the islands, a gem that sparkles in my memory. I did a bit of bouldering, two new things, super good on the Boulder beyond Mars, again I was reminded how good and photogenic these are, these problems were hard or I am useless.



a Grouper, dead, in my stomach, I'm a non grouper friednly predator



Mainly though I just went swimming, wake up at dawn, cup of coffee, munch some bread, walk down to some rocks and cruise the water. I took a couple of Barracudas which was a first for me. Barras are very scary for a lotta people but in truth they are just fascinating. I swam in two balls of thousands of Barras this trip, and just can’t explain what it feels like. To be inside a swirling mass of these agile predators is just very interesting. The other way you see Barras are in long lines, this is maybe more menacing, they seem more alert and eager for something. The lines are half a dozen or more high and hundreds of meters long, and you can just swim straight into them. The biggest Barras are more solitary little groups of 3 to six, and become more than a little menacing, they are often hunting when you see them like this, and can sprint in unbelievably fast to kill. If you are lucky and I was, you might see ones of a meter or more, the biggest one I saw flicked towards me as we were both cruising a gully in opposite directions, I yelped silently! Anyway saw lots of fish, an Eagle ray, Dentex, Tuna, mostly I just swam with them, but I eat a few fish as I am a predator when in the water. My head is full of the colours of the sea, hard to communicate this too you, if you don’t know what I mean, or the muted way that colours merge, the lack of sound but the presence of something that takes its place, it’s so good! Anyway sometimes up to six hours in the water, and I don’t feel good yet, a long way to go before I become proficient. And I want to get good. My last days swimming was at the Blue Grotto on Malta, an Abseil in, a difficult choppy entry and then glorious caves, boulders and sandscapes, with cliffs above me in the air and cliffs below me in the water. Boats full of tourists came flitting in an out, but they took care with me, thank you. As they passed I’d raise an Octopus for their interest. To get out was a grade 5 climb which I started with a big pack of gear on, and trainers for footwear, tough like this! A lovely day spent in the company of 3 Malts, 1 Swiss, 1 Pole, and me, 1 GozoScot. Last night in the comfort of my mountain home in France I dreamt of Fish, quelle surprise.

GOZO Adventure by Stevie Gozotan Haston

Thanks to Simon Alden&Toni Ann for the photos

Well Done on Century, by Stevie Gozotan Haston

Well done boys, about time..sounds bold as brass, light rack indeed....Stevie from Gozo

Death and Transfiguration, a goodbye to two hill men, by Stevie Haston

Two people who were members of the outdoor community died recently, and somehow have left a deeper hole in me than seems possible. In future I will try to keep up on this and publish something, nothing too personal, just a polite death notice.  We are all freightened of death, but dying while doing your sport might be an appropriate way to go, as happened to the two individuals in question. The mountains are dangerous and our lives are precarious, and none of us can escape death. But,  and for me it is a very big but, our lives can be transfigured by what we do in our allotted time. I love climbing I think more than being alive without it, so I am prepared to pay the ferryman, some of your friends will be the same and perhaps you are too. The price may seem high but we reach great heights so bare this in mind when you have the sorrow of some ones death, it might help. The two people who died recently both had an effect on my life and for this I am very thankful, and because of this they will never be dead in the sense of forgotten, they will never pass away into the mists of being absent.

In a previous Blog I published a photo of the cover of Studs on the summits written by Bill Smith, a book that the Independent in its excellent death notice for Bill reminded me sold out of print very quickly and is  now a collectors item. It is not because it is a great book, rather it is a work of love, and for this reason it too is loved. Bill loved running the fells,  he lived alone, and lived simply, he died alone, probably of the cold in a peat bog  on Bowfell moors. He was missing for three weeks. In his sad death he has had more appreciation than in life, his work with fell running, much of it unrewarded, has helped the sport immeasurably.
The older climbing community of England and Wales was surprised to lose Ben Wintringham to an Abseiling accident, Ben was a friend to many and a husband to Marion. I think Ben would be surprised by how many people mourn his leaving this world. Ben was helpful to me personally and I know he was to many others. Ben climbed many knew routes and loved steep rock, take some time to say thanks, if you do one of his little treasures, you may not have known him, but without people like Ben our sport would be very poor. I am sorry not to be with his friends celebrating his life, but many of the people who knew Ben  are maybe like me  and live in a different country, so farewell Ben and thank you for your smile. 


Bill Smith, runner. RIP.

Ben Wintringham, climber, RIP 
 

Trad climbing’s survival in a material world, by Stevie umpayed Haston.

this rack weighs about 8kg

Trad climbing is certainly doomed from what I have seen lately, the once and only way to climb is now just a circus side show! The free climbing ethic grew very slowly over many years until it became established in its proper form in the 1970s, there were many fight arguments and discussions along the way. There were also great climbers and some great impassioned ascents that showed that it was all possible. Out of the many examples I could use, I will highlight the Boulder climbers of the seventies as thee great standard. I do this because they are documented and where written about in great detail and I also know that most of it is true. So the ethic was basically to start at the bottom and make your way to the top with out hanging on gear or using it in any other way. Simple, very, very simple! If you fell off or had a slip or touched something it was called cheating and you had to start again, simple! If you had a lot of gear in or used a rope to protect you from above the ascent was invalidated, simple. One climber a man who inspired me and others, called screwing up on climbs tainting, as in your ascent was tainted. I always thought this term was perfect? These rules (you cant have games without rules) were established by the elite and where adhered to -maybe, sometimes, and certainly not always by trad climbers.  The problem with this ethic came about with the escalating standards and the normal pressures of life, and worse nowadays the thirst for harder routes and controversy in magazines and on the internet. Today a discussion will take place on the internet about Trad climbing by sports climbers, or idiots or both!

The inconvenience of complicated trad climbing often precludes enjoyment and that’s why people take short cuts. Probably every body takes short cuts but and it’s a very big but some of the great trad routes have been done from the ground. You only need to think of Yuji on Salathe with two falls! When you purposely put all the gear in a complicated and hard to protect trad route it’s called cheating! The amount of nonsense I have read recently about this is astounding! In Indian Creek and most of America the ethic for cracks is strict, you must place all your gear on lead or it’s not an ascent. Some people only pay lip service to this but strict ethics have been used (apart from practising on many of the trophy routes, think Cobra Crack and the Meltdown. Examples of hard to protect climbs are easy to find, in Britain full racks of 3 sets of friends plus wires makes the going very hard. A crucial hard to spot placement changes the grade of a climb dramatically. A heavy rack makes the climbing of strenuous routes very much harder. A big rack may weigh 8kgs!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The exclamation marks are for some people on internet forums who don’t understand that a rack can affect the grade of a route!!!!!!!!!!!!  Try a hard rout with 8kgs extra! Jibé and Raboutou used to say that 200grams used to affect how they climbed. I once did a hard offwidth in the desert on a tower with a big rack (8kgs) and collapsed on the summit for half an hour. Inconvenience is just that, its inconvenient. It’s fairly inconvenient to wait four years for the Olympics, or to wait for good powder or good ice, but that’s how it goes.
Many good climbers bend ethics or rules (I have numerous times) but if Trad climbing is to survive we need to at least pay lip service to placing gear. In Britain Mcleod places his gear on his final leads, many people do not, if you make the difference you will understand! And so why do you think he does that because it’s easier or harder? And yes it might be a little inconvenient to do a very hard trad route on Ben Nevis or use good ethics on El Cap but some people do, so please make the difference.

A few things the internet has got wrong!

They accept any old shit because it’s free!

Not checking!

Talking about stuff when you don’t know what you are talking about! This last one could be equally levelled at presidents of the USA.

I will leave you with something a bit more refreshing and upbeat but is on the same lines. There is a sport called Free Diving and in it, the Divers recognise different categories of dive, because lets face it they are different! So we have the most sensational which is the deepest dive but using weights, this draws the most interest, it isn’t the hardest, its just got the biggest numbers. Then we have another category which doesn’t use fins or a wet suit, this you might be tempted to think is purer, and I might be tempted to agree. So if you really want to be cheered up by human performance, click onto William Trubridge free diving the arch in Egypt. Notice there is a guy with tanks, Its 50 meters down, 33 meters across, and 50 meters up. Now that’s free.  And I’m off free diving now!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hrXQbucZUDA

Century crack three, by Stevie Haston.

So here’s a photo of a young climber being greedy and making a mess! Two people came onto my Blog last night from Iraq, and I was just wondering whom you were. A lot of people come onto my blog and don’t get it, and when they cant find the stupidity they seek, they don’t come again. That’s no loss to me. Some people come to my Blog and actually read, and gain something, which is a bit of plus. There are an estimated 4.5 million orphans in Iraq! The two blips out of the air-waves from Iraq, I guess you are soldiers, who are climbers also, if you are reading this, hello from me, and Laurence, and my three grandchildren. When I saw your blips I was very sad, sad for you, but very sad for Iraq, and horrified at the appalling list of innocent dead and injured. Peace to all.

Master bakers have opinions too, by Stevie Haston.

I miss being in Italy, but its nice to be at home. Cats, and my climbing partner, a garden; and living without car noise! One of the great things about being home is the climbing, my favorite cliff is here, but it is upside down, and my old warm-ups are 8a. I have been there three times since coming back, and months since I went climbing, so it was a surprise to lead one of them, and so did Laurence. Wow, I can call myself a climber again, my legs were like bursting sausages  and I am verry-heavyyyy! Went on a project, cos I felt a bit chuffed, and was brought back to reality, couldn’t do nothing, I mean nothing, Decided I am less than rubbish, will try again when ego has repaired itself. I love climbing, love running, love caving and swimming, but you cant do them all very well at the same time. It's automn here, the leaves are turning, it's blue, blue, blue, and I am happy. 

The god of small gifts, by Stevie Haston.

Young Jamie in Stevie's secret chamber.

Taking pleasure from other peoples enjoyment is one of the more groovy things in my life.  Dave our Electrician and his son did a bit of caving with us and liked it, it was all Laurence’s idea. Over the years we and I separately have helped more than a few kids start caving and climbing. Caving is so easy for them to understand and love and its very evident that older people start to loose the ease of liking caving. The photos you see are in a my little village cave, the first part of which has been vandalized and the second bit is through a gate and is still nearly pristine. One little chamber was discovered by me and it was an odd moment to think that in all those ions of time it had waited patiently for me to stubble across it. Hope you like the photos, you would have to have something severely wrong with you to not like them after all. Some of the formations in the cave are aragonite crystals and flowers, there are cave pearls and a downward spiralling series that looks like Areo-chocolate but makes you feel like you are in the small intestine of a dragon with colon cancer.

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Running Stuff, Lizzy Hawker by Stevie G.L.F Haston

Just read that Lizzy Hawker is going to do the Great Himalayan trail, wish I was going it looks Brill! At about 1,700km, its long, had a peek at their web site and I have been in about half of it, looks like a great adventure for Lizzy and wish her luck. Lizzy won the Mont Blanc trail in september, and followed it a month later with a 24hr record of 247km. Cheered me up thinking about her great form and this majestic run that traverses Nepal from one end to the other. I don't have a photo of Lizzy unfortunately so you will have to do with this one of a guy under Lhotse south face,  running higher than the Mont Blanc and slower than a snail. Namaste.

Running stuff, ‘three swift lads’, by Stevie Haston.

A running pal told me I was getting senile and left out the most important fact about Steve Jones, so I will add it. Steve Jones still holds the British marathon record! 2hrs 7mins is still the fastest time a Brit can do a Greek distance and the most important thing about Steve’s record for the man himself, is that he shouldn’t have it, it should be bettered! Steve Jones was (still is?) 5 feet 10 inches and his weight was (is?) 62kgs, he now lives in Colorado and helps people run swiftly. The whole thing about my blog was really to high light how at a tender age I had some very good athletes to impress me. When I think back to those years and the preceding ones it is even more impressive that people did so well with so little. Today standards have improved, but it is very different, maybe not as romantic. Having said that the marathon is very exciting at the moment, is not it? The continuing question of how fast it can go spins my head. There are 1970s winning times for 10,000 meters in alotta fast marathons. Anyway thanks ‘taffy’ for phoning me up, and correcting my omission. 

Running stuff, ‘Three swift lads’, by Stevie Haston.

Just chatting about running sometimes seems to be running. Anyway ain't done much jogging, slow shuffling, or running but keep thinking about it, which isn’t the same either. I am a bit crook, have a gammy abductor which I have made worse by climbing at my favourite crag. I have in fact worked with my injury, doing building work, run up my hill, gone swimming and diving, caving too, and they all hurt. Cycling is ok which shows you the value of having a pushbike. Anyway was thinking about three of my running heroes this week so I thought I’d talk a bit about them and my injury will magically heal.

Steve Jones a South Wales likely lad had the world record marathon time for a while and reportedly showed very little mercy in his training. It was a bit of a shock for people at the time as Steve enjoyed a pint or three and seemed to have came out of nowhere. He came of course from being a tough lad who wasn’t scared of getting stuck in. Anyway he brought up the fact (or some one did) that in 1984 there were 25 sub 2hrs 15mins marathons, and in 2009 there was just 1! That’s pretty funny, or sick, or indicative, or something! 1984 Orwell’s year! So another lad I was thinking about was Kenny Stuart, I saw this lad run a record Snowdon race which I think still stands to this day. I had pretensions as an aspirant runner in those days but Kenny  payed put to them, I basically gave up. He was astounding, I mean it, his speed going up was murderous, him and another guy but when he turned around it was a hurricane. A few years later he did a 2hr 11mins marathon without of course to days benefits and easy options. He retired shortly after because he got sick one of my Lake District buddies told me. Kenny was from the Lakes like my other inspiration and shows you what little mountains and quite village life can turn out. Anyway what can you say about Billy Bland! The strongest of the Blands, our Billy always springs into my mind on a long run, especially when I am flagging, I see him scrutinising my weakness, and then he kindly says ‘come along now, get a move on’, it never fails. Billy is the course record holder for Britain’s best little round the Bob Grahame and again it was done along time ago. I often wonder what he could do in the Tor de Geants or could’ve done, I should say. Billy had a 2hr 15 marathon I think. Kenny Stuart weighed I think 50 kg for 5 foot five and Billy weighed nothing at all. They weren’t white Russians, they were white Kenyans. There you go Float like butterfly, fly like a swift.

Century Crack 2 by Stevie Good Job Haston

WARNING : Don’t read this if you are not a nerdy climber!

Mine is bigger than yours!

I had a couple of Emails late last from America concerning the ethics of Trad-climbing and crack climbing, mainly from older climbers or people with a strong foundation in climbing on gear. Climbing on gear is very special in that it allows you to protect your route without anything being in place and thus ‘clean’, it is in fact termed clean climbing sometimes, and it also allows you at its best to do new routes anywhere in the world with some gear facility. That’s up to a point! And the point of course varies, from climber to climber and climb to climb, or area to area. In the late 1970s the Verdon Gorge was being developed in southern France and some routes where protected by long bolt ladders. In the Dolomites in Italy some routes where long lines of metal pitons and eventually these so-called permanently protected type of routes became more of the norm and a new ethic of climbing was born where you good basically mess around to your hearts content, pulling on gear, practising, as long as in the end you did a free ascent without falls or aid. Anyway this type of climbing in my early years was anathema to most of my friends and the worldwide elite, it was denigrated and termed cheating. Roll on a few years and most of the world doesn’t understand Trad-climbing and its intricacies, some people would say it has limitations. Some of the limitations are its strictness, the on-sight, is king in this game, and indeed when you fail you have the problem of protection left in place, which then precludes a strict clean ascent. Another limitation is the amount of protection you carry, it can be big! Big racks of expensive gear are maybe what the gear junkie wants and craves, but the free climber detests such constraints against his capacities. Another disadvantage is that gear is fiddly to put in, takes time and experience to use properly, so some routes become an exercise and a nightmare of gear placement and management. For this reason most people take the more amenable road of bolt protected climbing, I say amenable but should use another word, even simpler which is a good word might be misconstrued. I often think to myself that bolt climbing allows me more freedom of movement, and I can come much closer to fearless and less encumbered enjoyment. I hope you understand all of this, because most people don’t, and there is no best way, they are just different. Now there arises around the world problems of local ethics or even personal between different climbers. The polemic about Century Crack is interesting on a number of counts, primarily on whether you try to do it by Local (stringent) ethics, or a more modern and quicker way. In conversations I had with Americans over the years about Century Crack it was always very clear what they thought was correct. I have noticed over the years what you think of as correct is a best case scenario or what you would aspire to. I myself have taken great liberties with ethics, morals, and laws, bending, breaking, and simply not noticing over the years. Some of my climbs have been done in impeccable style while others have been a bit sloppy, some times I have been greedy while other times noble. Century crack posed many problems for me over the years, the main problem was ethics with gear. The climb for me, cracks (being very morpho) is hardest where your equipment burden is greatest, and thus it is here I wanted (but never did) bend the rules. Century Crack may well be flashed one day which would be the only real traditional correct way, but until then there will be easier options available to its suitors. I hope this helps people understand a bit more. A good long article explaining the ins and outs of various ethical stands on climbing is long overdue in the mags, from bouldering to the Himalayas, but of course magazine people take the easy way out.    

Century Crack

So the Century crack, a very good crack  that is awaiting an ascent. I stopped trying this route years ago because the chance of me doing the route with this rack of gear seemed low, to verrryyyy low. I leave it to you to try and understand the absurd comment that it is ok to leave this gear in, and not carry it. Trad climbing is absurd nowadays,  the climbers are good but their approach is silly. Ciao

A year out, by Stevie Haston.

(c) Lorenzo Belfrond

To take a year out between school and Uni was a smart thing to do among those who could afford it. Indeed I suppose for those who could go to Uni it must have been great, I didn’t go to Uni, I went to work! I am not grumbling, I didn’t learn much at school and would’ve probably learnt nothing at Uni. Still the idea has always appealed to me, a time to pause before adulthood, a time to enjoy, a time to mature, a time to gird ones loins or grind ones loins etc. So at the tender age of mid fifties I took over a year out! I did 2 months work, total time away from home and wife and Ariege was 14 months, it could have been longer, but it seemed right at about that length. Why did I do it? I needed it! I needed to get away from climbing which has turned into a shit sport run by internet jockeys. Climbing is so good, that to have thus tainted seems like graffiti in the Sistine chapel. So I ran in autumn, snowboarded in the winter, and ran in the spring and summer. I climbed to 8b but my heart wasn’t into it, and I stopped 3 months ago to try to concentrate on running. Did anything happen, anything profound? Maybe yes, maybe maybe! I have become adroit at staring at stuff and drifting, thinking, I can ignore a few things, and I can run, a certain amount of peace is accessible by being alone.

I lost my temper only once in 14 months! All these things cost a lot. I was poor, and often lonely, I didn’t accomplish much, but re-realised that most stuff is Lego building, or sand castles. I arrived at a place I was 20 years ago, running in the hills and doing a bit of climbing. More interesting was my wife’s time, she has become a yoga teacher and did very well with out me, which was part of the plan and point, but also one of the dangers. As a 50 year old in a world that seems to glorify teenagers I needed to re-acess my future (which could be another 50 years –my god!) I needed to find my path for a while. This may sound hippie or weird but its gotta do with how I see the quality of my time and not wasting it. Entertaining a climbing public while earning other people money isn’t that good, it corrupts my joy. And talking to many sportsmen, they seem think the same. Anyway it’s nice to have met some like minded runners who think like me, shame that they are runners perhaps and not climbers.  And to finish there is one lie I must put to rest, age is not a burden, it is a gift. I am old and can run for 36hrs, I can do a good days work, and I can climb what I want. The tiring thing is the chaff, the parasites in climbing, the politicos, and the rabid profiteers, in short, the stuff that needs sorting. The young are learning to be users, it’s the way of the world they see around them Ikead to the ying yang, pre programmed robots.....make a break take that traditional year out. Go surf the Himalaya or run in Kenya.  

Walter Grivel, my buddy, Stevie’s Haston.

Walter is the  last Grivel to work with Iron, actually he is iron, and always has been made of iron.

So I have known him for a long time but Walter goes back a few years before me and used to work with the forge and the hammer. We were talking the other day  about my first pair of crampons, that I had in 1973 and the chances are that he made them. It was he or his mate, working side by side sometimes. Anyway when I said they were a very good pair very stiff, he claimed responsibility, Walter is like me in that respect, he knows the value of his work.  So I spent 14 months in Courmayeur and changed flat four times and Walter and his family finally put me up just before the Tor de Geants, and Walter and his family always gave me the nod when they saw me training and when they heard that I stopped because of cramp and stuff they just said ‘hard shit Stevie its like that man”. Walters’ genes are Walser that is from north of the alps and they are burly men not scared of working, sometimes they have red hair and there humour is subdued and slow in coming they are not typically what you think of as Italian. Anyway the Flat Walter gave me was great but it was ten yards from the original Grivel forge which of course was totally cool. A week or so before The Tor the Ultra trail de Mt Blanc was on, and the runners passed literally under my balcony, so I naturally set my alarm and cheered Killian the winner as he passed underneath. Killian looked fresh as a daisy after 80km! My original crampons were made from railway rails! They were maybe made from Krups railway rails, Krups made the best steel, as witnessed by all the lads who died in the wars! Walter was the only person apart from me who could lift a 280lb piece in one hand! Walter of-course used to walk around with it as part of work and not showing off as a trial of strength. I can’t pick that piece of steel up any more! I tilt it on my back sometimes and do a few squats after a few hours running and then have a beer. One of Walters sons has a climbing shop in Courmayeur, and they hire ski and winter stuff out under the lift, be sure to do some business with them because they are part of the mountain scene, and I like the family. The day the photo was taken was a Courmayeur day, blue, and people doing mountain stuff, mainly blackberry picking, but it was also the day Walter Bonatti died, a friend of Walter and a big climbing buddy of my boss Gioachino Gobbi dad’s Tony. I have soloed a lot of Bonatti routes and they have been some of my best days in the mountains. Anyway Walter thanks for my first pair of crampons, forged by an expert, a forger of young mans dreams and aspirations, a true man of iron.  

Tor de geants 2011 report by Stevie dnf Haston.

Anne Marie Gross 4th again 91h28mn only 9mn slower than last year!

Well this is going to be short because I don’t want to dwell on my own failure too much. The Tor this year was like the Tor last year a totally fab and fantastic experience. If anything thing the field of runners was of a better standard and more prepared with people like me having the benefit of finishing the year before. Last year there were 9 runners inside 100 hours, this year 12, but this doesn’t count the possible! For instance last years winner Mr Gross baled out almost straight away and number 2 Calvo mid wayish. There were many others who DNFd including me who were on for a very good time but were injured and naturally are a bit pissed. So why were so many good runners injured? Well the Tor is hard, maybe harder than I thought the first time and is now advertised as the most gruelling long distance race in the world. It is certainly a race that can easily hurt you, the paths are very rough, lots of loose stones and this year seemed very hot. The heat caused a lot of early cramp and the tougher field caused a tougher pace, both very dangerous things on a long race. People like me were not interested in finishing and were only interested in time, this caused lots of trouble. Anyway many runners also ran on with injuries which is pretty dumb, me included. You live race and learn, and I certainly learnt so am not too upset, I also saw and met some fantastic runners, so have been inspired again, so thanks guys!

this year Numero Uno Jules Henri Gabioud 79h58mn

The male winner was Jules Henri Gabioud who came in a few minuets in front of the Gross time for last year. And the female runner was Anne Marie Gross who came in fourth like last year in a remarkably similar time. There could easily have been another 10 runners under 100 hrs, and from what I have learnt there seems room for the time to go down by 5 hours, wow! The Tor was really really great I met lots of mates and made lots of new ones, a big thank you to the organisers and the people of the valleys. I will try to write something more interesting when I am not sulking, more info can be had on the Tors web site.

Paying your Dues, by Stevie ‘at your service’ Haston.

Steaming up hill

I am a selfish man, but I believe in community. I am a lazy man but believe in accomplishment, so like alotta folk I swing both ways. So the other week I had blisters and thought it stupid to make them worse by running a 100km mountain race, so I decided to be good by being at a refreshment station on the 55km race, and thus accruing some ‘Brownee points’ with that fictitious God that still lives in the back of my mind. Anyway there was a slight motive, as if I run in the race I wouldn’t see it as such, as I would be well down in the pack. By officiating I would see the good runners, see their condition, and judge them and myself. The refreshment stand was at three thousand meters staffed by three women, and served water, coke and some energy stuff. These women had walked up there along with another girl and a man who did the runner checks, in addition there was me, and all the stuff that had been flown up there by helicopter. There were alotta these check/point aid stations, and that’s why I decided to help, to be part of it all, not just a user. Anyway you understand, you have probably done this kindda thing yourself, you may have just taken home some litter climbers have forgotten, it all counts. So on the 55km the initial climb is a separate trophy in itself, it’s called the Pascal, named after a local guide who died in an avalanche. The climb is particularly gruelling, 2000 meters of very steep path over 9kms, it’s a mean montée, but if you have a history of alpine mountaineering you might understand it’s got an attraction to climbers, even if you cant do it! So the first lad got to the stand in 1hr 45mins, and I gave him some coke, 1hr 45mins, jee wiz! It was a humdinger of a race, cold with a very competitive field. In fact more than a few burnt themselves out, and didn’t finish the 55km. 

Laurence resting

The 100km with 5000mts of up, was won in just over 12hrs, and the second guy was 1^st in the Tor de Géants last year, very impressive. Anyway lots of runners very little litter, and what litter there was  taken care of by me. So that night I stayed at the hut, and was feeling great about myself, running, and humanity in general, until along came some youths, who proceeded to shit within a meter of the hut, and keep me up passed my aged bed time. If for some unaccountable reason you wish to visit their graves they are under the big cairn, and I have planted some Edelweiss to help their passing. Never hesitate to tidy the mountains up, keep em clean, stay mean!

Mid life crisis number 329, by Stevie ‘over ripe’ Haston

Shiva and his own way of recycling.

There was a bit too much trash in my bachelor flat, and it was starting to smell a bit, so I very sensibly thought I’d take the trash out. Well a few days later when I finally did take the trash out it was raining, so I got the turn-ups of my trousers wet, as I wore slippers instead of shoes, and my bare back got an unexpected wash, which admittedly was a plus. Anyway, thinking about what a tosser I was, I then for no accountable reason threw my keys with the trash into the recycling bin. Didn’t even know what I’d done till I returned to the locked door. Double Tosser! I searched around for the keys, ‘like you do’, not wanting to face the fact that they were in the big, deeeep recycling bin, I patted each pocket and searched the path 5 times. No joy. Looking thru the squeezy slot-why is it not bigger- I spied my keys, it’s still raining, but there was a silver lining in the shape of a roll of wire left by some workmen. So it’s raining cats and dogs, and there I am fishing with my wire line for my keys, 4 people I know stop, and ask me what I’m doing. Great! Just as I am beginning to seriously think about posting myself to the fictious recycling heaven, thru the slot, I catch my Keys. And they don’t fall off the hook, then a big audible sigh of relief escapes my chest, as I hand over hand the stiff wire back out of the deeeep bin, I don’t relax as I have been fishing for about an hour. In fact, I don’t relax until I am back in the cocoon of the flat, after all a meteor attack could strike me down. I have always hated recycling bins, they are normally lies to make you feel good, and lies to make you fink that some one is doing somefink about all that fooking cardboard and plastic you use. But I gotta tellya folks, none of it is working, we are doomed, so get some trail running, or climbing done before we are covered in garbage.

Organic food in plastic wrapping is not organic, Dolphin friendly tuna is not Tuna friendly Tuna, and even if it was, it comes in a fooking plastic coated can, man! So I go back to the Flat soaking wet, dripping in fact, there’s a puddle around me as I strip off, and hit play on my computer. I have the film American Beauty on, do you remember it, it’s about how shit and empty suburban American life is, and I am such a sad looser, that I am watching it again, but this time with various smug commentaries, by overpaid grovelling actors, producers, and thankfully only one director. They are all doing the Dream Canyon Handshake. It’s a well done film, but it’s not really what they are all saying, the message is clear, everybody in the film is living an unrequited life, and it’s a tragedy, it’s really fooking depressing and terribly sad, there’s no bloody hope. It is just what I don’t need, so I attempt suicide by eating a whole loaf of toast-I am in Italy but the soya beans for my fru fru loaf are imported from china, WTF, anyway no butter of course, cos I am too fat and I am off animal products this week. The ingredients of the loaf start to freak me out, and I work out that my loaf is made up of ‘stuff’ from four different continents! Half way thru the film I realise that a Philosopher prof mate of mine uses some of the lines in American Beauty as part of his speech patterns, Jesus, what does that mean, and do I care, I just want it to stop raining, and there’s nothing in the fridge except some furry yogurt left. It’s funny how you need to have something to think about, but you don’t really want to think, and what do you do with the conclusions anyway if you are clever enough to come up with any. That’s why people have Kids, TVs, microwaves, dishwashers, jobs, haircuts, so called friends, climb Everest with oxygen,;;;:::===Every morning I wake up with a hard on, what for, I should’ve been neutered, like my dad advised. Everyday I think weird stuff, what for; I should’ve been lobotomised, like my dad said. I desperately need to get out of the flat, off this continent, off this planet. Yep I need to go running for at least 4 hours. But what for? Tell me oh great Guru what for? Guru speak to me, please. And that’s when you go in search of your Guru, swish through the bead curtains, and find him watching American Beauty, but with the sound turned off, the Finnish subtitles on, and a heavy scent of a suspicious smelling Jos stick wafting around on a non existing breeze. He turns to you and says ‘bro what's up, check it out’ and he Frisbees Suzie and the banshees album cover at you. Yea so you are transported back by that internal warp drive function you secretly have in your frontal lobe, and yes you are in Croydon watching Suzie nad the aforementioned §Bannnsheees, its 1978 or something. And you know what, you aint got no worries anymore, cos you just wanna get it on with this girl in front of you with the Mohican, it’s like a tequila sunrise plume crest. So that’s what the hard on is for, cross-pollination with extra terrestrial species lets get it on. Her name wasn’t Stella from the Astral plain, it was Sharon from Millwall.

 The Guru breaks you out of your reverie with;‘The World is just a great big Onion’, title for a song, this is your starter for ten points, 10 points makes you eligible to win an inflatable family, ‘you'll never walk alone’. Please read the disclaimer tattooed on the inside of your helmet. What u don’t have a tattoo, well get one dude. Or jump the queue on next years fashions, and get a wooden disque inserted inside your lower lip, this with baggy trousers should ensure you only get laid by a giant Duck Billed Platypus named Pax Mobiscum.