More Training and Rhino, by Stevie Haston.

On the Rhino.

 Just a few words, to keep me going, and possibly to keep you going. Good routes, and a bit of work. So the routes are good, and I had some good coaching work this week. So obviously you know the routes are good, but why is the coaching good? The coaching is good because these people invest in my knowledge, they buy into it, they believe, they copy, they do. You have to commit, without commitment you don't get anywhere.  

the bronze slab.

When I tell people I only got good at climbing when I moved to France, and watched great French climbers, and climbed with some of them, people don't want to believe me. What about your previous routes, they ask? Well, they would have been easier. Much easier.

a tough moment, on some ones first aid route.

 I need to train again, I need to learn again, I need to recharge again, yep the Rhino has to charge.  Yep gonna jump into the training again, gonna get strong. Gonna do a few great routes.

bicep training for Alex.

I proscribed some training to a very good climber with high expectations  this week, and will take my own advice. After all I have expectations of my own. Right?

Ps. Rhino top bit goes free at 7c+/8a, verily it is exposed. 

Good times, good routes, by Stevie be good Haston.

 Just finished The Last Rhino, it was as good as expected. It's a fabulous addition to climbing on Malta and Gozo, it will surely become a classic. The photo above shows the belay at the top of the first pitch, 6a, mainly easy chimney, but the initial traverse has a tricky bit on it.

 From this belay at 6a+ you traverse with bolts for protection until you give up the free climbing, and start using the bolts for progress while standing in slings. It all becomes very overhanging, and undercut, it's very exciting and exposed.

 This is the hanging belay.

From the end of this traverse which might go free at mid 8 standard, you hang out and wonder where you can go? A few exposed free moves lead to a four bolt traverse thru a mini slab, which goes thru the last overhang. A final sting in the tail in the shape of a few compulsory free moves (no bolt), lands you on the flat top of the cliff like a stranded fish.

Paul doing the last free moves wondering if I am really belayed or not.

The Last Rhino is very scenic and highly recommended, it doesn't need huge skills but if you mess up it would be hard to extricate yourself. You need a friend 3 /2, and a set of wires. Bolts and threads do the rest, take a 20 clips. I'll do my best to free climb it,  but it still needs a lot of careful cleaning due to brittle and soft sandstone. Expect a few more good routes from these lovely cliffs.

Poachers Politicians and Pratts. by Stevie Haston.

 So I had this idea for a route name, The Last Rhino, then my friend bought me a book called the Last Rhinos. Then this morning a face book  friend linked me to the deaths of two lads protecting Rhinos in the Congo! One of these protectors of Rhinos had 5 children and one had 7! My life seems trivial compared to their work, but I try to tread a reasonable path. My reasonable path will be a great route for them and you. 

 Counting pennies for glue yesterday, this is bolt fund donations thanks folks, thanks very much. So managed to connect the bit from the bottom of our route to the bit I reversed aided from the top. Trashed a rope, frayed my nerves, fried my brain, t'other day and only placed two bits of protection. But today joined it all together. The route is scenic, airy, beau, full of strange textures,  pounding wave sounds booming inside hidden pockets, odd perspective perplexing you, puzzling pleasure pulsing in throbbing throttling fear. It's great.

Paul about to use his teeth in my throbbing toes.

My second Paul was great, supportive and generous, thanks Paul. We both suffered, not least when I hauled two bags at once up Union City Blues, the route felt like a path, the bags felt like being Keel hauled.

Paul.

Tomorrow we do the Last Rhino. Please do what you can when you can. While we were climbing people were shooting birds illegally, a police car happened by, they took no notice and drove on! It's politicians in the end who have to do the correct thing. I am not brave enough to go after hunters with guns, I am just a soft guy, and seemingly so are the Police. 

The Last Rhino, by Stevie horny Haston.

 Paul escaping from the clutches .

Back in the groove, back in the swing of things, all excited, ready to boogy. This route is very good, in 3 short pitches it takes you through the whole gamut of excitement. It is of course Mini golf compared to high standard himalayan alpinism, but you know we lack spiky snow encrusted spires in Gozo, so we make do with sand stone sloping roofs!

 A pink Northen redskin extends his arm to his brown cousin.

I like this photo of my royal pinkness. It's funny who we think we are, and what we look like, self image is a weird one for sure. So the route has been there all this time masquerading as a big gloomy cave, when in fact it was a pandoras box of special delights. It's been taunting me for years, but now I understand her angles, some of her defences have fallen, and I look forward to a long lasting relationship where she will be my dominatrix.

Simon on his very own  mellow route.

This cliff is now home, what it lacks in stature, it makes up for in tone and feeling, it is Fruit Cake Land, many layered, many facetted.

1000 routes?

The life force when the sea is choppy is good at Fruit Cake Land. When the sea is raging, so is your life, the bongo drums of your own destiny are loud and clear, and then of course you return to the domestic scene at home, and things become somewhat humdrum, and dumb. So life is flat, the age of Northern red skinned berserkers is over, the age of the domestic humdruminity is apon us. Thank god we have Fruit Cake Land.

Inner sanctum of Hell, by Stevie Haston.

 Calm day, calm mind.

So it's not calm but we go anyway. I need to get in to the Inner Sanctum, I need to get to grips with it's chamfered  singularity. Done a few new routes here at this cliff,  7 and one half done. But the half done one doesn't really tell the tale.

 cousin Paul being offered as sacrifice.

The sea was booming, and some of the spray and plumes were going 80 foot!  We still did 3 routes, I did another two, one with a rucsac full of equipping gear. Still can't believe the quality. I managed to get along, and down a weird narrow ramp that angles thru the last roof. The idea is to make a route that goes thru the maximum amount of roof with a little bit of pulling on bolts, so everybody can get maximum thrill. Plus obviously the route will probably go free at some stage.

 cousin Paul before he lost his hat.

Cousin Paul from New York,  had a good day and was patient when I did some equipping. I should have listened to him when he wanted to call it a day, and I went down to put a rope from the right hand side to a big chimney. "It'll be all right" I said, and the seas got heavy, and I did very little except get soaked, and scared and then had to do Union City Blues with a rucsac. Man was I glad to get up! 

ambiance.

I felt like I had a high powered colonic irrigation at one point. But the routes are so groovy. Got to get some equipped, go working, and come back fit, and do the hard ones. Mojo rising, rising. Might have to get super strong again, oh dear.

Gozo Climbing Goes Atomic. by Stevie Radiating Haston.

Fragile gout d'eau, dangerous to climb.

 Stefan Glowacz, and a big Photo shoot were at the Gozo Fruit Cake Cliff yesterday! It was a surprise to see them I thought they were coming in a couple of days! There they were, Stefan was calmly belaying his fit friend up Fade Away and Radiate -one of my little 5 star routes.

 Slouching  towards a crack Stefan says I should bolt, I am listening.

Stefan is an ex international champ at competions, he's a great all rounder, and someone who is unperturbed in fairly series conditions. I admire him and his climbing. He was Rock Master at the Arco Comps three times!

Big photo team.

 It's good to know that our climbing is what these guys were looking for, interesting rock for adverts and promotion. It was good to see the climbers themselves enjoying our climbs, which in my opinion, are as good if not better than most in the world.

eating dust after equipping another classic, in need of a beer.

I asked about the grades on Gozo 'they are correct' Stefan said, 'if a bit stiff'. "Quality excellent", Stefan is one of the first to onsight 8b years ago in Spain.
Gozo has had Americans, Canadians, Spanish, French, Germans, Italians, Hungarians, well everybody lately. Lots of UK people. Please enjoy our climbing remember to donate to the BOLT FUND.  

Rough Beast, by Stevie gentle Haston.

You go through life with few friends, or indeed enemies who can entertain. Well, perhaps it's just you who do not have the ears to hear. Or eyes to see, or sword to thrust, or head to bash the thick walls of your servitude to dust.
So you do a bit of climbing, don't you?

Betwixt a mans span lies a life wanting to be spent. 

But then one day you enter the Lost Castle of your Desires, and  with open arms and tears,  you come to terms with your authentic desire. You want to ascend to heaven, you want the good fight, you need to vanquish incredible foes, and stand triumphant at the pinacle of all glory.You might pause to take a small bow, and with a sly modest grin, say, "it was nought, anybody could have done this thing".

Pull bonny lad.

This new bit of cliff, is it any good? "Was Helen beautiful, was she heavy maintenance?" As you traverse around the bay clutching huge water warn flutes, your eye is drawn into the Widening gyre. The ceiling is full of Gozitan colours, the sea tones reverberate, almost causing sounds, and your senses broaden and morph to encompass it's majesty.

 

A sky boat, the gozo ferry, very furry in the pastel clouds.

So all other climbs seem 'mere anarchy', this climb is the great dictator! And you are at once reminded of your mortality, your weakness, your pathetic ordinary lack of conviction.  Surely Shirly, this route is the Second Coming, the dawn of the new Jihad, The Eternal War, never ending, the route that overhangs forever. 

 And if you pick up this heavy gauntlet, this terminator arm of such dreadful heaviness, what kind of beast will you become? A steroid stuffed Lemur with hands covered in scars, or something stronger?   

  

 If "twenty centuries of stoney sleep" suffice for the design of a new body and structured mind  to "Slouch" up this route, a new birth, a rebirth, to emerge in the "pitiless sun".
You will be the "Rough beast", and you will be full of "Passionate intensity". If you haven't twigged, this is a little appreciation of W.B.Yeats who wrote the poem Second Coming, I have plundered it for words, and lines. 
I thank him for breathing poetry into my soul, and possibly saving my life.

He also wrote the song "A DJ saved my life", but not many people know that.