Chalk

There is something about an ice axe that demands that it be held, weighed, swapped hand to hand, maybe a few experimental swings at an imaginary face. An ice axe is just so tactile and looks like it is hand crafted for its task. It is for these reasons that I own an ice axe, the fact that I'm probably never going to use a wooden shafted walkers axe is immaterial, I am a climber therefore I have an ice axe. Ice climbing has never really appealed; the thought of driving through the night to reach some god forsaken part of Scotland on the off chance that some route or other may be "in condition" spending a day either frozen solid or sweating with effort does not sell this too me. As for the Alps, Altitude, The headaches, the ice falls, all good Boys Own adventure story material but not for me, give me warm, dry and by the sea any day.

I'd heard about chalk climbing, mainly in the leading edge type stories of first ascents on crumbling rock with the coast guard waiting at the top. In fact I had recently noticed that there was a chalk guide at the back of my trusty Southern Sandstone book and that there had been a few magazine articles extolling the virtues of climbing chalk like climbing ice. The thought of nipping down to the coast, slipping on some huge spiky boots and wealding ice axes was just too irresistible, so when Trev said he was going down to Saltdean and wondered if I'd fancy a go at chalk climbing on a top rope, Ice climbing in a Southern Sandstone style, it was all too much. I had to try it.

The tides where right, the weather was right, the time was right. Sarah and I turned up at Saltdean to find the rest of the crowd setting up the top ropes. The coast guard had already be informed, apparently they had had the usual conversation:

"Hello, I'm ringing to say that there are a group of climbers at Saltdean."
"Thank you sir, but I must warn you that the cliffs are very dangerous and we would not advise you to climb them at all" .
"Thank you for that advice, we will be here until four".
"Certainly sir, please ring when you have finished and ..... Enjoy yourselves"

Once the top ropes where ready it was time to walk down to the beach, nobody but Stuart seemed keen on absailing. Over to the pub, down a flight of concrete steps and past the sewage out flow. Climbing gets you to some of the most picturesque places. Finally a hop over the wall brought us on to the pebble beach and the cliff, gleaming white and looming above us. The old hands headed for the rope and started donning helmets, boots and crampons. I dawdled along looking at the cliff, Chalk isn't that stable, bits peel off it all the time, I put my helmet on. Along the bottom of the cliff about a foot from the pebbles was a line of small puncture marks, someone had been traversing .... Wow!

I had a quick lesson on how to place an axe from Sarah, It's all in the wrist, a little flick rather that a hulking great tree trunk splitting blow. I was surprised how little of the axe needed to be in the chalk before it would hold. As for my feet, I had to keep them level and try to find small ledges rather than banging them it to the cliff (which seemed to work quite well). All too soon I was squeezing my feet into Dereks boots ready for the off. I'd watched Stuart carefully step up the route, a gentle slope rather than the vertical horror Derek and Stuart had been attempting earlier, and made mental notes of where they had been. The axe bit into the chalk and I pulled up, put my foot on a ledge and pushed along whilst swinging the axe into another part bit of the cliff. I quickly got absorbed into the activity, place the left axe, place the right axe, look for a ledge for my left foot, place my left foot, look for a placement for my right foot, place my right foot. My world had become very small, it consisted of a white face with an occasional glimpse to a blue sky, The chalk dislodged by my placements dropped away into the abyss. The concentration was total. Inevitably it had to end and the crab on the lifeline told me that I had to stop. I wanted more, more routes, longer routes, This style of climbing was silly, this style of climbing was fun, This was my type of climbing.

With the enthusiasm of a beginner I headed for the next route, a massive great corner which narrowed toward the top. The rhythm of axe, axe, crampon, crampon took over and I progressed slowly up this harder route. In places I had to bridge in others I had to balance. Sometimes the chalk just didn't take the axe and I had to hook it over an edge. Right at the top I just couldn't get the axe in the chalk just spat it out where ever I put it. I fell off, I was on I top rope, I didn't care. I felt like when I first started climbing, the realisation that I could really do this. That I could propel myself up a lump of rock using my hands and feet, that I am doing something so utterly pointless and I that was enjoying it.

By the end of the day I had climbed 3 80 ft routes at Saltdean and was hungry for more, The light was going and the tide was coming in so for the time being it was "game over". As I drove back home my muscles tightened in complaint but I only had one thought "Where can I get a pair of second hand size 12 plastics from?"

Pete