15th Aug - 22nd 23rd Aug 2020

“I’m off for a climbing holiday on Lundy”, I would say.

“Where’s that?”, would invariably be the answer.

Good question!

Until recently, I thought Lundy was either somewhere near the Channel Islands or maybe in the vicinity of the Isle of Man. I also didn’t know that Lundy is one of the greatest climbing locations in the UK.

But I do now!

It's a little windswept island, just 3 miles long, sitting in the Bristol Channel between north Devon and Pembrokeshire. It has 1 pub, 1 shop, hundreds of shipwrecks, 3 lighthouses (see previous point!), a few holiday cottages, a camping field, some curious seals... and some truly world class granite sea cliffs.

The Approach

It’s an adventurous place to climb, even getting there on the MS Oldenburg feels like a mini-expedition. All six of us (me, Paul, Tom, Matt, Simon, and Mark) managed to pass the ‘Find-the-Quay’ Test in Ilfracombe in the torrential rain, and not miss the departure. Although apparently it was a bit tighter than I realised (SOS coffee and muffins were totally required).

We had a huge pile of luggage, the total amount of which bore little relation to the alleged weight limit per person. Tents, camping and cooking gear, racks, ropes - the pile got larger and larger, but all was aboard and we set sail in high spirits. The sun was shining somewhere, but not on us that was for sure and we all got a bit wind-blown and rain-washed during the crossing (which takes just under 2 hours). Our first glimpse of Lundy was of the eastern side, shrouded in low-lying fog. Sea cliffs and pinnacles of rock appeared out of the gloom, giving tantalising hints of the epics awaiting us on the wilder west side of the island.

Climbing!

Our first day disappeared in fog and mist, so with little prospect of dry rock we went for a long amble around the island to get our bearings. Navigating around Lundy should be easy - there are only two main paths heading up/down the island, one on the east and one on the west. And as you walk you cross several drystone walls, conveniently named Quarter Wall, Halfway, and Three-quarter Wall. Should be simple right? Somehow it's surprisingly hard to remember how many you've actually crossed though, so there was plenty of debate as to where we were when all we had as ‘landmarks’ were horses, goats, and highland cattle. Pub dinner and an early night in a slightly soggy tent finished off our first day, but we were full of enthusiasm as a decent forecast promised plenty of dry granite to come.

Over the next few days we got to grips with the Lundy crag approaches - ‘descend the grassy gully’ often turned out to be guidebook code for ‘go up and down a few times and peer over lots of dodgy cliff edges and realise you’ve got totally the wrong place’. Our first taste of Lundy granite was at the aptly-named, super-classic Flying Buttress - a huge obelisk leaning drunkenly against the main cliff, forming a natural sea arch through which inquisitive seals were swimming. We had a great time ticking off some of the classics of the crag. Strong lines and gear-friendly cracks made it a fun first day, working up the grades to finish with Double Diamond - a Hard Rock tick and no pushover at HVS 5b. I got a bit stressed out on some overhanging slimy rock close to the shore-line, whilst Simon got a bit anxious eyeing up the incoming tide. All was well in the end! And the crag has some excellent ‘natural features’ for anchors at the top - great big cannons, used to signal danger when the lighthouse was ironically hidden in fog. Bomber!

We climbed all over the west side of the island, mostly managing to dodge the short, sharp showers that swept in across the Bristol Channel. The forecasts turned out to be mostly unhelpful - I definitely got sunburnt on days when apparently it was meant to be black clouds and heavy rain all day. With the weather being on the unpredictable side, we chose the best-looking day for a visit to the iconic Devil’s Slide. This is one of the showpieces of Lundy - an immaculate sweep of granite slab, rising straight out of the sea for 100 metres before steepening up like the crest of a huge wave. It is surprisingly lacking in major cracklines - on one side, the slab meets a side wall and creates the satisfying lay-back VS, Albion. On the other side, intersecting cracks form the super-classic HS, Devil’s Slide, which culminates in a run-out exercise in ‘smear-trusting’ on the final traverse under the crest of the granite wave

Side note: if you haven't seen Johnny Dawes' attempt at a hands-free ascent of this epic you really should!

In the middle of the slab, scanty thin cracks provide the ‘gear’ for the thought-provoking E1, Satan’s Slip. The guidebook describes the second pitch of this route as ‘a lonely lead’. It certainly wasn’t well-endowed with protection, and I muttered to myself “Just keep climbing” as I moved two, then four, then six-plus metres above my last dodgy placement. Fortunately granite is super-grippy - bizarrely, I felt more intimidated when I finally reached the safety of the Albion lay-back corner, mainly because I think I’d forgotten how to actually climb with holds and gear after 30 metres of smearing!

We were definitely grateful for a sunny dry day to have our slab-climbing adventures. The weather kept building during our week on Lundy, culminating in several big storms with epic winds and wild seas. The MS Oldenburg was unable to sail, leaving many refugees stuck on the island. We were unbelievably lucky because we’d booked into the luxurious barn for the second half of the week - all the campers ended up escaping to the safety of the church and sleeping on the floor for the rest of their holiday, after several tents failed to survive the conditions. The big seas were truly amazing!

We had to pick and choose our crags, and sometimes plucking up the courage to abseil in above the huge waves crashing below us wasn’t easy! But we were always rewarded with brilliant experiences. When the weather finally got too windy, we explored some of the inland crags and the eastern side of the island. These were fun, and a pleasant escape from the intimidating sea conditions, although definitely the poor cousins compared to the big west-side sea cliffs.

The Return

We joined the band of Lundy refugees when our boat back was also cancelled by the weather, and we lucked out with an extra day of climbing and another night in our cosy accommodation. The barn usually sleeps 14, so we had plenty of room for the obligatory social-distancing, and it was a really lovely place to chill out with coffee, chocolate and games.

We used our bonus day to head to the far north of the island, visiting a fun little crag with plenty of excellent technical routes. The northern tip of Lundy has yet another lighthouse, this time accessed by little bridges and steep steps weaving through the cliffs. We got a great view of the big seas, whilst being pretty sheltered in our secluded crag. The biggest bonus of the day was the lift we managed to grab with the lighthouse engineers on the way back - bumping along the track, wedged in place with our climbing bags, we had fun chats all the way back down the island. Cheers!

The captain of the MS Oldenburg gave the all-clear for the sailing the following day so it was all-aboard and farewell to Lundy. Despite climbing every day, we felt like we had barely scratched the surface - there are so many brilliant adventures still to be had.

~Mary

As I sit in the car watching the rain lash against my windscreen in a very soggy Dartmoor (our replacement holiday after being blown away from North Wales by not one, but TWO storms last week), I am reminiscing about a contrastingly warm and somewhat midgey trip to the Roaches just a couple of weeks ago with SCC. This was our first official weekend meet following Lockdown, and we were a tiny bit apprehensive about how it would work out. Paul had the forsight to book the entire Hazelbarrow Farm campsite for the weekend, which included the use of the bunkhouse for socialising in the evening, in case of inclement weather. This lovely site is just a stone's throw from a plethora of climbing options at the Roaches, Newstones, Baldstones and at Ramshaw rocks - all within walking distance! Which is useful for an August trip with parking at a premium - apparently we weren't the only ones planning on a weekend escape to the Peak District.

Chris and I arrived at around 9pm (after the usual, mad post-work dash) only to be met by legions of midges - the downside of a lovely still and sutlry summer's evening in the Peaks! After hastily erecting the tent we took refuge in the car, beer in hand, until the midges retired for the night. Not before they had feasted merrily on my accidentally exposed lower back whilst we put up the tent - lessons were learned! After a couple of beers with the others we headed to bed for a not-so-early night ahead of a days' climbing at the Roaches.

We woke to the pleasent pitter-patter of rain against the tent - only to realise once we were fully awake that this was in fact the sound of midges trying to get in for their breakfast! But with the heat of the morning sun producing the usual boil-in-the-bag effect familiar to those who habitually sleep in too long, we had to make a dash for it. On the count of three we fled to relative safety by the camp fire that Rob had already lit to keep our unwelcome visitors at bay. At about 8am we received a text from Jo and Steve to let us know they were on their way to the crag - whilst most of us were still in our PJs! Once breakfast was out of the way and we were finally left in peace by the midges we got on with our day.

En-masse, we ambled up to the Roaches upper tier (around 20 minutes on good paths) and went our separate ways up the rock. Chris took the lead up Heather Slab, a somewhat run-out but pleasent Severe 3c whilst I selflessly continued to feed the midges at the bottom whilst belaying. However, I was rewarded with a lovely breeze that chased my tormentors away once I'd followed him up - not to mention a spectacular view from the top.

I then tottered up Maud's Garden (HVD 3c), a three-starred route I have looked at many times in the past but usually a queue of like-minded folk ahead of me has left me to find a less-popular line nearby. It was worth the wait, with a fairly bold start up the slab and a tricky chimney near the top (cue much dithering and grunting), both of which made the experience feel more severe than expected! But then, it has been a while since my last grit-stone adventure (thanks coronavirus!).

By this point George had joined us and was champing at the bit to get up something a little more challenging than I could follow him up, so I relinquished my climbing buddy and volunteered Chris for the job! I think he rather enjoyed Crenation, a bold E1 5a which both of them managed to make look much easier than it sounded. In turn, I borrowed Jon so I could tackle the very fun Fern Crack - which has a steep and juggy start with excellent gear (if you're strong enough to hold on whilst you place it - if not (like me) just keep going til you can put the weight back on your feet - you will be rewarded by a brilliant thread eventually!). This is followed by a slightly awkward rockover onto a rather green looking slab without much to cling to other than your hopes and prayers. Overall a very satisfying route that was over far too soon. Looking back I wish I'd squeezed in Black and Tans, another on my wish list that I think most of the other meet attendees managed to fit in, but it always seemed to have someone waiting for it when I looked over. So that was it for us - time to head back to the campsite for dinner. Jo and Steve's early start meant they managed at least 6 routes to our 3 that day and definitely earned their chippy tea; mine was less-well earned but just as much enjoyed.

Fortunately the wind picked up on Saturday evening and we were able to enjoy sitting outside without being eaten alive by the local wildlife. However, as the sun dipped below the horizon several of us retreated to the warmth of the bunkhouse for shelter from the increasingly chilly wind (there's no pleasing some!). A few beers were consumed and most of us headed to bed for a relatively early night in the hope of getting in a full day's climbing at Ramshaw Rocks on the Sunday.

With the wind building in strength throughout the night, plans were swiftly revised in the morning and we set our sights on a repeat visit to the Roaches instead. It's not like we were going to run out of top quality routes after just one day! As most of us were checking out of the campsite we drove to the crag - fortunately the cafe near the bottom of the Roaches had opened up a field for parking (at just £2 a day - so it amazed me that some people (not club members I hasten to add) still insisted on parking on the sides of roads and were duly rewarded with parking fines by the end of the day!).

On the Sunday Chris and I entertained ourselves with some of the shorter routes on the lower tier - Prow Cracks being a particularly enjoyable excursion! During a brief interlude I sat watching Tom squirm and thrutch his way into the squeeze of Sifta's Quid (a hillarious cross between caving and climbing that is probably more fun for the spectators than the climber! Seeing is believing, see piccie below), and Catherine rocketing up her second ever lead like a pro (whilst making some excellent shapes, also see below). I was busy capturing these two memorable events, when someone rudely got in the way of my photo - that someone turned out to be none other than Johnny Dawes! I said hello and had a quick chat about midges (which somehow lead to me telling him that he climbs pretty well for a midget - a compliment he seemed to take as it was intended!). He then offered his services to SCC in the form of training (which Chris is in the process of organising so keep your eyes peeled for upcoming info on that) and proceeded to give Chris a bit of an ad-hoc lesson in hands-free climbing (see pic below). All in all, a pretty memorable weekend!

I'm back in the car now having had a scramble about a very damp Dewerstone with Chris, gazing longingly at the glisteningly wet rock and hoping for a dry spell before heading home - in either event, I can't help but feel lucky that climbing draws us to visit such beautiful locations and allows us to see them from the unique perspective of the climber.

~Colette O'Neill