It must be almost ten years since I led the first 5a pitch on The Fang at Tremadog only to find that the combined weight of our team was insufficient to accomplish the poorly protected second pitch. The ignominious abseil retreat has always rankled in my memory, leaving an insatiable desire to 'complete the job'. A weekend in Wales in mid-October with John and Steve provided just the opportunity to address this long-standing problem after I had just led the main pitch of Striptease (VS, 5a, 4b) and One Step in the Clouds was experiencing its usual continuous clutch of hopeful ascendees. Standing, as we were, at the start of The Fang (HVS, 5a,5a) with two accomplished, enthusiastic, and dare I say naïve, climbers provided the ideal incentive to complete this long overdue objective.
Not to say that we did this in our usual impeccable style, but complete it we did to end a really magnificent day in the hills. John led the first strenuous pitch, spurning the juggy lip that made easier work of the initial overhanging crack line, to end up trussed like a Christmas turkey on the belay stance below the dominant fang which gives this route its apt name. Bringing me up next was a significant error as John and I jockied for position on the small ledge making sure firstly that neither fell off, and secondly that there was still room for Steve to come up and lead through. With about 20 points of attachment we were eventually satisfied and we sorted the rope and gear to make the transition smooth and efficient. Steve powered up only to be told to wait just below us on the crux while John passed him the leader gear. He was clearly unimpressed and displayed his displeasure by breaking wind. Trussed as we were, and unable to retreat, we both had to suffer the consequences, with John muttering something about it being a shame that hot air rises.
Eventually Steve was ready to move up, desperately clambering onto the now crowded ledge between John and myself and placing the offending part of his anatomy worryingly close to my head. I suppose that fear must have an anaesthetising effect on Steve's bowels and the traverse passed without incident. Perhaps we should patent adrenaline as a cure for flatulence? At the arete, and with no useful gear in place, Steve was clearly an unhappy bunny. My helpful suggestion that he might like to clip the tree received serious abuse, being as it was some twenty feet out from the face, but then how was I supposed to know that when all I could see were the branches? After much pleading for a foothold I assume that one must have appeared, since it all went ominously quiet and there were no more complaints about tired arms and lack of foot placements. With Steve well out of sight now the rope seemed to run out agonisingly slowly, but then this route is not renowned for its abundant protection and needs care. With Steve secured we both left the comparative safety of the belay ledge to complete this truly excellent climb. The second pitch contrasts from the first by being an immaculate exposed slab with a commanding position so typical of the Bwlch Y Moch crags. So will we be back? Most certainly we will. The spectre has been exorcised and next time I will be leading pitch two.
Derek 16th October 2000