Old Grey Sea Monsters

Back in the mists of time an ancient sea monster, the type that used to be marked on mariners maps as "here be dragons", pulled its old and greying form out of the sea and rested its head against a head land. As it took its last few mighty breaths it raised its massive dorsal fin in defiance against a changing world. As the life filtered from its body and the sea swirled around its tail the life ebbed way until the monster faded away. Millions of years later in an age that monsters no longer exist and man had labels for everything the monster is now called Skeleton ridge and its two tail plates are the Needles and its chosen place for rest - the Isle of Wight.

I stood at the top of the cliff waiting for my turn to rappel into the bay. Down below John and Derek where making there way to the start of the ridge, Steve was still on his way down. I waited filled with apprehension. Was it the long absail on a crumbling chalk or was it that I had been looking forward to this for so long that now it was reality I was just a little afraid? From the beach we could see the full extent of the ridge spreading across the horizon and gleaming chalk white. The view was awesome and one that very few get to see, a massive chalk fin spreading from the sea to the headland towering above us. We paddled to the start of the climb and started to kit up. We where carrying a ridiculous amount of gear. In hindsight a handful of nuts a couple of large hex's and a bunch of slings would have done but we really didn't know what was to come.

Derek started up the side of the fin aiming for a dip between to chalk turrets. He took it slowly the mixture of slippery chalk doted with razor sharp flints demanded respect. It would only take one miss placed foot and you'd be ribbons. This was really the only bit of upward climbing on the whole route and a good introduction to the style of climbing, easy and slow, making sure of each step, placing gear in the vein hope it may hold but concentrating on not falling off. This was old style climbing. The leader must not fall.

When I gained the ridge my constant companion for the rest of the climb made itself felt. My God it was windy. The sun was shining, the sky was blue and I was rapped up in a fleece and windproof to save being frozen. And now it was my lead. Out along the side of the tower to the next ledge. Everything felt just a little unsafe, the sea lapping at the chalk below gave an extra edge to the exposure. I placed a nut and giggled at the futility of the placement, but it made me feel better. A few more steps and then, the ledge, tie onto any thing that looked solid or failing that anything that was large and heavy. Once I was tied in I looked at the next pitch, Thank God that's Derek's lead! It looked impossible. The ridge soared up into the air. A bit of tat fluttering in the wind. Hold on that's not tat, that's a krab. Derek was almost here, I wonder what he'll make of it.

Derek set off, Steve, John and I sat on the ledge watching and feeling smug that we were not out there. He sat legs astride the ridge and edged upto the pegs. Slowly he raised him self from the knife edge and clipped the gear. And then he explored the side for holds. After a painfully long time he grabbed the edge, placed is foot somewhere and went up. Now all I had to do was follow. The wind hit the moment I left the shelter of the belay, shuffle up to the pegs and, look down, it was a long way down. Right at the pegs, unclip the gear and look for the holds, white lumps, dusty chalk, reach up and pull. And then slump over the edge to the "you used your knees" rebuke from Derek. We sat on the ledge Derek, a sea gull chick and I to watch Steve do the pitch. The concentration for the moves followed by elation at having finished showed on his face. The ledge was getting a bit crowded now and the sea gull chick was starting to complain, I set off on the next pitch safe in the knowledge that the hard bit had been done. This pitch is the one you see in the pictures! You sit astride the knife edge and shuffle along, absolutely classic stuff and over far too soon if you ask me. The next pitch can also be done au chaval but we went round the side because the whole thing is at an angle and looks set to topple over at any moment, even more so that the rest of the route.

The headland was approaching fast now and with it the end of the climb, we had to traverse around the left hand side of the ridge and climb the obvious crack, which I hasten to add, I missed totally and ended up in a grotto of crumbling chalk where all the rock disintegrated to the touch. We all took the chance to look back at the route at every opportunity, the great chalk crest, buffeted by the wind snaking its way into the sea, you could almost think the thing was alive.

Pete