Billy the Puffing Engine Gets Tired

And

Boulder Puppy Goes Flying

Featuring:- Adrian, as Billy the Puffing Engine. Darren, as Boulder Puppy. Mark, as the scrawny little [ ] who gets up everything that I can't. Egan, as Beta-Man. And Gareth as the belayer.

I went to Beeston Tor in the summer of 1982 and I thought it was great and wanted to come back and do more. Not being one to put things off for too long, there I was in the Spring of 2002 with Darren and Egan, thinking 'Mmmm, grass, nettles, brambles, vertical shite!' Black Grub was the target: E3 5c, three stars and loads of threads. The threads were in a whole new range of Dulux colours: white-used-to-be-red, white-used-to-be-blue, white-used-to-be-orange.

'Be of bold heart! Are you a man or a mouse?' cried the devil on my shoulder.

'Eeek! Eeek! Pass the cheese!' said the little voice inside.

But how to get to the start of the route? The skinny path that led along the foot of the crag had fixed rope, lest a slip end on the boulders 75 feet below. Then a vertical path (VS in the wet apparently) with more fixed rope and a further cowardly traverse back, 150 feet above the boulders, brought us to a big peg belay.

So off we go, pockets and pockets and pockets and more pockets. A nice big DIY thread and then it kicks off, plumb vertical: pockets and pockets – crap thread – pockets – crap thread, and then Billy the Puffing Engine starts to blow. Pockets – crap thread – then a shallow scoop with a sucker rest and a wobbly in situ hex (white-used-to-be-blue), and a place to cram in a Friend out on the wall. Billy the Puffing Engine is away again - pockets - huge crap thread – pockets - and the pressure relief valve starts to squeal, then another sucker rest in a 'cavelet' with a fierce pull to get out, then puff, puff, puff to the belay. One more 20-year ambition ticked off.

Then Darren came up on the longest rope and lowered off to path, down the vertical shite through brambles, thorn bushes and nettles. Then Egan came up and lowered off at an angle to a belay chain. I abbed down to him, and then we both abbed down to the path through nettles and brambles to a graceless landing in a thorn bush – and all because we were too scared to reverse the vertical path. Of course, if I ever go back, I'll reverse the path because now I'm scared of the brambles and nettles.

Next on the agenda were Evensong and Pocket Symphony, both E1 5b, two stars apiece, loads of DIY threads. One for Darren (his first E1) and one for Egan. Guess what – pockets and pockets and pockets. Then a rather more elegant ab to ground, sans brambles.

Feeling all very content, we thought we would go and join the others at Stanage where we thought they would be bouldering. We're nearly there when 'phone contact is made – they are at the camp site, past which we zoomed some time ago. 'Oh Clucking Bell' said we, or something similar. Never mind – for we are made of sterner stuff and to Millstone we shall go.

Now then, in October 1981, I did Regent Street and fell off the crux. So what in heaven's name am I doing stood here now? Oh well, Choo! Choo! Billy the Puffing Engine is away again – blowing like the Flying Scotsman with none of the grace or effortless speed. E2 5c*** - how can something have three stars when it is such hard work – it is rather good though. Chuff, chuff, chuff and hiss to a halt in a siding on a big ledge for a rest. Then Billy is off again, tearing off up the track. Pause - gear, big stretch for a small Friend as high as it will go and away off up the crack. Puff, puff try and put a runner in: it won't go in, so hold it in my teeth and decide to go for it and sprint to the top of the crack. There's an OK-ish ledge and then a 'Thank you, God' jug. Puff, puff, puff! An old peg, cunningly placed so that a crab won't go through the eye. The Dyneema runner in my teeth threads it nicely though. One more move to the top – great except that it involves a lay-away off my left hand, which doesn't seem to work any more. Shake, shake, heave, puff and the top, a nice square edge which some time between now and twenty years ago has acquired two chipped incuts. Darren followed and that was that.

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So that was Saturday – a good result all round. Then there was Sunday, which was the day that Boulder Puppy went flying! See Boulder Puppy fly!

Flying Buttress E1*** at Stanage – Something must have got lost in the translation, for Darren seems to have misunderstood. It is not a buttress from which one goes flying, but - each to his own - fly he did, and with the style of a truly great showman. Firstly, he got Billy the Puffing Engine to warm up the crowd by failing miserably to lead Tippler Direct just around the corner. Then he set off in fine style once the crowd was assembled and full of eager anticipation.

Runners everywhere and, armed with the knowledge that a number one cam was required to protect the move above the roof, off he went to the lip. Over he went, runner in and stand up – almost: knees are bent, not in balance – Whoof! He's off, and down and down and down and down and, just as Sheffield Royal Infirmary is opening its doors, he stops - knees just touching the slab 20 feet from where he fell. 'Daddy, did that man mean to do that?' said a little voice.

Trevor (and now the web site) has video footage of every moment and Gareth, the belayer, has acquired a new friend – Boulder Puppy makes a new friend!. Now, when Egan the Beta-Man said a number one cam, he meant a number one Camalot, which is the same size as a number two Friend and that's where it all started to go wrong. Still, our Darren is made of sterner stuff and was soon flying back up the buttress as a second, even if the spectators will bear the scars for life.

Meanwhile, Billy the Puffing Engine busts his boiler again on Tippler Direct. Mark takes over and zooms up it with a break at the break to thaw the fingers and Billy puffs up it, blowing steam from every orifice. Billy the Puffing Engine busts his boiler yet again on Cave Eliminate – still can't do Peak 6a after all these years. Mark flashes this, with some consternation from Billy, who decides that it is time to run if Mark falls off – not run away, you understand, just bound downhill to take in some rope pronto.

Billy is a very sad and a very cold engine by this time, having done a lot of falling off. Up with this I shall put no more – let us go to Lawrencefield where you don't have to wear six layers of clothes just to stay alive. So Mark and Adrian went there and did Suspense, which is E2 5c** and best done carefully. What is more, Mark seconded and had the grace to fall delicately off the penultimate move – so underneath all the attitude he must be a caring and sensitive human being after all, given to moments of generosity just to make people feel better!

Adrian