Watch Me Here……And Here!……And Here!!!

On Lundy, Mike and I had promised ourselves an adventure and here it was, in the shape of South Face Direct, a 3-star Chair Ladder classic VS.

Being novices, relatively speaking, the abseil descent provided a few thoughtful moments. We spent a long time agreeing with everything the other said, however contradictory, and tying the rope at random to bits of the path, until we had an anchor that looked fairly solid provided the knots weren't inspected too closely. Somewhat miraculously we arrived at the base of East Chimney still alive.

After a further delay inspecting the route (4a, 4c, 4c, 4a and all vertical), during which we agreed we shouldn't be allowed out on our own, Mike set off in great style, romping up with little gear to the first stance. Terror set in when I joined him…..my "mouth watering pitch" started to the left with an awkward swing across a small void. The only solution was to put in so much gear there was no room left for my fingers and then udge up carefully (how well I've got to grips with these technical terms), bottom out, making little wimpering noises.

The continuation crack, after a welcome respite at a niche, was easier and I started rehearsing the story for the pub later ("Dead easy really for a climber like me") until I looked up and saw - Oh Shit. About a foot above my head was a saddlehorn protrusion, a mushroom raised proud of the blank slab, which, it appeared, I needed simultaneously to get both hands and a foot on before swinging across to the right round a blind bulge. Let me tell you conclusively that this isn't possible - I should know, I spent long enough trying it while attempting to avoid garrotting myself on my sling protection. After extricating myself for the sixth time I leaned back to see if I could speak to Mike who was no doubt mentally climbing the route with me, in the manner of a good belayer.

But no. Mike was clearly having a lovely time 50 feet below, at peace with the world on his small stance, leaning casually against the rock, cigarette in one hand, belay rope held loosely in the other, admiring the ships on the far horizon……dead cool? Definitely. Comforting for a leader in extremis? Actually, no. My call of "Mike - watch me here!" was even more high pitched than usual.

I turned back to the job in hand and after some scrabbling, a lot of swearing and a little bargaining with the gods, I was up, edging round the blind corner and wondering which part of me had lost the most skin. 5 minutes later Mike breezed effortlessly up and we looked at the forbidding and strenuous third pitch, a steep crack and overhang. Call me a selfish bitch (Jo, you're a……Ed) but all I could think was - "Thank heaven it's not me, oh, thank heaven……" Undaunted, Mike set off. And set off again. And set off again - until finally, clearly trying to set a speed record, he leaped to the top of the pitch in less than a minute, rock godliness intact.

The last pitch was a breeze for both of us. An excellent route in excellent company; I recommend it.

Jo