Hey Andy, justa quickie - hope you got time to reply. What’s your preferred method of attaching your Silent partner? I attach mine using the two lockers through both leg loops and waist loop like in the SP manual but find everything a bit tight and restricted - have you found a better method? I was thinking one steel krab as opposed to two alu krabs. Even a maillon but I guess unscrewing and screwing at every belay would be a pita. Be keen to know your thoughts.

Cheers E

Hi

First off I think connecting any such device direct to legs and waist is just asking for trouble, as it’s a sure fire way to cross load your krabs, and also stop any movment by the Silent Partner, which could cause drag - and so lock it up.  I use two methods, the first and most simple being to clip it direct to my belay loop, as this allows free movement, and the krabs have less likely hood of becoming cross loaded.  I tend to have two belay loops (the one on my Petzl harness, plus a Yates one threaded on) so I’ve got plenty of room for other stuff (belay device, daisy chains etc).

The way I attach the Silent Partner is with two small screwgates (or one wire gate and a screwgate for speed), and would avoid maillions (good if you’re using a Grigri to solo) as it’s vital you can get in and out of the device quickly (sometimes mid pitch when you’ve crossed your ropes!).  One biner - even a steel one - is one less component in your safety chain, which as it stands only has three! (2 biners on your Silent Partner and one for your back-up knot).  Two back to backs screwgates are 100% safe - locked or unlocked, and proof against cross loading.  Also two biners allow you to take one krab out, half open the Silent Partner, re-insert the krab into the open section of the clip slot, clip that off to a sling, then remove the second krab and take the Silent Partner off the rope.  A silent partner is very easy to drop, and without it you’ll soon realize that a clove hitch far less functional.

The other way you can tie in is to create a higher tie in point between your harness and chest harness, meaning you have less chance of taking a head first fall.  To do this take a length of full strength cord (I used dyneema, but a bit of skinny rope will do) and create an fig8 knot on a bite through your chest harness (you need to be able to unthread your chest harness from the bite at the end, so don’t tie it through any close loops), leaving a long tail from one side of the knot. 

Now take the tail and pass it through your sit harness and back up, rethreading it through the fig8 knot.  Now you have a fig8 with two bites on each side, joining sit and waist harness.

Now take the tail - which is coming out of the top side of the fig8, and create a small bite by threading it back through the fig8.
You now have a fig8 with 3 bites.

The location of the fig8 and this last loop (this is where you’ll clip your Silent Partner, needs to be around your belly button, so as to avoid the Silent Partner smashing you in the face.

Although this knot adds more bulk it lifts the Silent Partner out from between your legs and makes it more visible and less likely to get cluttered up (one advantage of the Silent Partner over a Grigri is that it’s almost impossible to get jammed open, and will lock up in any fall).

Hope that’s of some help.

As you can probably guess my Eiger dream of climbing the Harlin with Paul Ramsden didn’t go to plan, mainly due to too much snow where you didn’t want it, and not enough where you did.  I imagined the face would be plastered but it was very dry, with very little on the crucial sections between the 1st and 2nd band - well that was until it dumped on us.

I said in on of the blogs that alpine climbing is all about timing, and maybe we blew it by not pushing on on the first day, the aim being to go from the train to the 1st band, but in reality we just made it to the bottom in the afternoon and pitched our tent.  I suspect Paul was feeling not fully motivated due to the lack of visible ice and snow, and that the push to the 1st band ‘up easy snow slopes’ would ground to a halt.  We had a bit of snow forecast the next day, which turned into quite a bit.  We woke up at 4am to the continued rattle of snow and spindrift, and I said we should wait, knowing from my last visit how big the avalanches could be (probably coming off the slope below the 1st band).  Not long after that a big rumble of snow made me feel vindicated and we went back to sleep.

First light brought no let up and the snow kept coming down.  To add to our lack of psych both our BD Epic bivi bags had total failure and both our bags were literarily soaking wet - not a good start. We dried them out a bit by laying our belay jackets over the top (a belay jacket will dry when worn, but a wet sleeping bag will stay wet).  We layed there listening to the snow coming down, both knowing we’d blown it.

“Maybe we can leave the gear here, go down, and come back when the weather improves?” I said, knowing that Paul would think it a daft idea, and that we’d just get down and want to go home.

I lay there trying to work out a plan, but I could tell Paul’s psych for the route was gone, mainly due to a narrow time window for both of us.  It had been now or never, and so it looked liked the latter.

Sometimes you hold on so tight to the idea of a climb, giving it 100%, pushing your luck, your partnerships (on and off the mountain).  It’s a high stake game in more ways than you think, but ultimately you have to have both the balls to play, and the balls to walk away from the table, no matter what the loses.

“OK lets go down” I said, knowing it was what Paul wanted, and he was only hanging on for me (he’d climbed the North Face anyway, so this was just bonus).

We traipsed down through the deep powder until we ended up walking along the roof of the train tunnel, and down to the midway station.  I’d wanted to buy one way tickets up to the Eiger, but Paul had thought it a daft idea, and so we had a ticket home.

Standing at the station with the snow falling down I wondered if we were cursed as a partnership, having had tons of trips, but never having climbed anything - just many, many cold retreats.

“I don’t think I’m up to your kind of routes” said Paul as the train appeared over the hill, a funny thing to say, when I always thought they were his kind of routes - not mine.

Just found out that one of the world’s hardest via ferrata’s has been desecrated by the Americans on Cerro Torre.  This route, put up by one of Italy’s most hard working climbers and DIY enthusiasts, was cutting edge at the time, employing the most expensive climbing/quarrying equipment known to man, the aim to produce a safe way up the second hardest rock face in the World! (he was unable to get permission from English climbers to place bolts on their Gritstone edges - which are known to be the hardest).

It was testimony to this man that he chose an out of the way spot to make such a route, so no one would give a toss, while still making sure that there would be ample trees and boulders for American climbers to slack line from in between ‘send-in’.  And this is how they pay him back!

The route did have some small controversy surrounding it as some people were under the illusion that it was an alpine climb, and soon simply saying ‘The compressor route’  was enough to cause fights amongst climbers as they ratcheted up their slacklines.  Just it’s name was enough to polarise climbers, the line drawn between those who’d climbed it and thought the bolts should be removed, and thoes who had not yet climbed it - and thought the bolts should be removed - just not quite yet.

Alas even this via Ferrata’s title was misunderstood, due to a mixture of the builder’s strong accent and an unfortunate gust of wind in the moment of it’s christening.  Cesare (named after a brand of Italian dog food) was actually a well known shagger, and had climbed this mountain - which he described as ‘like a big ejaculating knob’ - in order to cop off with a rancher’s daughter, and it was actually called ‘The Impress her route’ (a little known fact is that Cesare was also the inventor of the ‘300’ workout routine, stolen by Mark Twight/Cross fit, although he would undertake 300 sexual positions in under 11 minutes).

What I find so terrible and outrageous about this vandalism (many in Italy see it as bad as the Sack of Rome, and already Sicilian hit-men have been dispatched to Colorado) is the fact that it is simply an act of selfish route creation!  This two man team is actually a two and a half man team, with their half member being the actor Deep Roy, who ever since playing a mountain climbing Umpa Lumpa in Charlie and the chocolate factory, has dreamed of free climbing Cerro Torre.  Unfortunately only being 4 feet heigh means Cerro Torre is the same height as Everest (although with less wankers and more slackliners), as for Deep what would be a finger crack for a normal person is somewhere he can park his car.  What Deep Roy does have is very small fingers (8mm wide or 45/7 if you’re a yank), perfectly designed to fit in the holes left behind from Cesare’s hard placed Via Ferrata bolts.  Right now Deep is up their dogging those pitches!

This has been no ethical clean up, but a brutal micro fingered dwarf finger pocket stitch up!

Note: I have there for set up a bolt fund to help pay for the replacement of all the missing bolts, as well as setting up steel cables, a zip line from the summit and the building of a gift shop/bistro (Red Bull had already helped us in replacing these lost bolts - although retrospectively).  Please do your bit to help, and so redress the balance.

Told this morning that we’d not make it to the eiger due to a metre of snow. These words came from the ticket salesman - so what does he know!  Anyway he was right that there was a metre of snow, but not that we wouldn’t make it. And so after a fair slog in thigh deep powder and breakable crux, we’re bivied below the Harlin. We had planned to go up to the first band, but decided that it would be better tomorrow (best not to get shafted on the first day). And so were perched on quite a drop in pauls little bibler tent contemplating what tomorrow might bring?

Sat in the hostel in Interlaken, having driven over from the UK yesterday.  The weather is incredibly mild, and it was raining when we arrived at 11pm last night.  The forecast is overcast tomorrow, snowing the day after, then steadily getting better the next four days (colder and clear).  The plan is to get the 6.40 train up and walk in from the Eigergletscher station at 8.10 to the bottom and try to reach the 1st band (crux) that day, leaving me to lead the crux aid pitches (4) through the band during the poor weather.  Alpine climbing is a bit like comedy and it’s all in the timing - so fingers crossed we can make it to the 1st band (one metre of snow on the approach, so that may slow us down).

We had quite a trip out here, starting from a fancy Hilton hotel at T5 Heathrow where I’d been working the night before.  It was a 6am start, an early trip over on the tunnel, then a detour as one of my tires started falling to pieces on entering france. 

Neither me nor Paul speak any French (we’ve been coming here a long time, so you’d think we’d have picked some up), so trying to explain to le-quick-fit guys that I thought the tracking was out, or the bearing was gone, was a tough one.  I tried by saying ‘At le hundred kilometers maxim vibration’ (vibration spoken as vibrat-eon which sounded more French).  Having no idea what I was talking too I just pointed at the wheels and pulled a sad face, which seemed to work.  The problem was soon apparent when the car was lifted up into the air - with the mechanic saying ‘kaput’ - well apparent to him, but not me, as I asked if he meant just tire, the wheel, the suspension or the whole care?  ‘Kaput, kaput, kaput’ he said pointing at the tire, which I noticed was actually square on one side, which although improbable was obviously the cause of my problem.  140 Euros later (I bought two new tires as I was worried the other one may have been a square model) we were back on the road.

Can’t wait to get back on the mountain after my failed solo attempt on the Harlin three years ago.  I think the last year has been a year of not backing down from past failures - a sort of Alpine Club (of course the first rule would be not to tell you that it was… as well as the second!).

Keep telling people that being on the Eiger alone was an amazing experience, and quite strange, as I felt almost cozy up there, and safe upon it’s face.  I summed it up as being like one of those photos of a small child cuddled up with a pet lion, that the lion knows the child is no threat, the child knows the lion can kill him at anytime, but in that moment they live in the same space through some undefined understanding.

We’re taking 8 days food, and hope that’s enough, and Paul’s a bit worried by the size of the rack - me too - only I think it’s too small and he thinks it’s the biggest rack he’s ever climbed with!  Paul climbed the 1938 route when he was 18 (youngest Brit at the time), so at least he’s got all the gen on the mountain.  I guess climbing the Harlin alpine style requires a heavy weight/expedition approach to some respect, but there is still only two of us and one rucksack against a very big route.

As we’re climbing I’ll try and blog as we go to keep people informed.

Been packing for the Eiger for the last few days, trying to work out what rack to take (most of my cams need some TLC as they’e not been used since the Troll), working out what to wear (it’ll be a stop and go route I think), and making a custom sleeping bag (well more like a blanket… hopefully of the comfort sort!).  Will be climbing the Harlin (how about that for positive language!) and will try and update blog as we go (climbing with Paul Ramsden - who’s not only got a Piolet d’Or but is now a master of the samuria sword).  We’re going as light as we dare, while taking a mountain of food (10 days), as we hope to climb the original route to the summit (most teams are bailing up the 1938 route at the Spider due to low supplies).  Having climbed the first easy 1000 feet it’s down to me to lead the aid ptches, and Paul lead the scary mixed ones - which sounds good to me!

Anyway in between packing I’ve finished a little training guide (yes I know it’s a bit strange me of all people writing such a thing!).  The subject is purely about grip strength and is focused on winter climbers - especially leashless climbers.  The book is a bit like Dave Macload’s book ‘8 out of 10’ and is 5000 words of training ideas.  A few people have read through it, and the feedback’s been good.  I seems funny me writing a book on training but I’ve really delved into it over the last year and find the whole subject really interesting (did 100 x 100kg dead-lifts yesterday, so now I feel I can finally admit that I’ve finally gotten myself fit…ish).

The reason I wrote the book is raise £1500 for my daughters cheerleading team (Cheermania!) so they can buy outfits for competitions, so if you download a copy (it’s only £3) then rest assured your money’s going to a good cause (well spangles, lycra and glitter).

The book will appear on Ibooks, Amazon and Kudo but at the moment it’s best to buy it from Lulu here.

Hi Andy,

I was wondering if I could get your advice about getting hold of cam hooks. I have been doing a bit of research and it doesn’t seem anyone in the uk has them anymore (Joe Brown’s have sold out and are not re-newing their stock). I emailed Moses to see if they knew of anyone who stocked them in the UK and they said you had been the only person to enquire about them before. They suggested someone like mountain tools would do international shipping, so I was planning on getting in contact with them to see how much it would cost. Do you have any other ideas about the best way to get this kind of stuff from the states? I remember reading on one of your blogs that it was only possible to get things like the silent partner directly from the states.

Also I have another question to do with aid climbing and using daisy chains. People seem to love them or hate them! I am quite tempted to get rid of them to ensure less tangles, however I am sometimes a bit clumsy so am worried about dropping them and whatever is attached to them. I assume when using hooks you would need to re-attach a daisy anyway unless you help onto as you took your weight off. Anyway any opinions on the best way forward would be appreciated, although as with most things I imagine their use is dictated by situation, hard/easy routes and type of climbing.

Cheers Simon

Hi

At the moment it’s best to buy specialist kit (hooks, heads, pegs) from she US (Mountain Tools are good) and some companies will sell direct. One problems is you will get a vat bill, which can add up, so if you’ve got a mate going to Yosemite then get them to buy you some kit. Don’t assume that you can rock up in the valley and buy your exotic gear, as the mountain store is often out of basic stuff, and so it’s worth making sure they have what you need before leaving.

I’ve been fiddling with psychovertical.com for over a year with the aim to make it a dedicated alpine/wall site (like UKC meets Alpinist)’ that would sell some exotic gear, but I’m still fiddling with it!

On the subject of Moses, his hooks, beaks and cam hooks are by far the best (much better than BD), so it’s well worth the effort (the size #2 straight tomahawk just about replaces all other pegs).

On the subject of lanyards (which Daisies are - adjustable or fixed), I think that you need them when jugging and at belays, and personally I think they are irreplaceable on lead - especially on hard aid (testing through a daisy is much safer than jumping on your aides).

Adjustable Daisies are easier and tidier than pocket daisies, but not as strong, and with all of them it’s often a case of just getting into a routine of shortening it and clipping it off.

There are a few climbers who don’t use daisies (like Steve Schneider) but the vast majority do.

Hope that’s of some help.

Cheers

Andy

Been following Neil Chelton’s rise as new big wall superstar since - well? -  about last year when he soloed the ‘easiest route’ on El Cap (there are no easy routes - just some less hard ones).  He emailed me afterwards with his crazy tale, telling me he’d been inspired by Psychovertical (I do hate it when people say things like that).

Anyway it seems that in the space of a year he’s taken the hard won lesson of that solo (ie stubbornness + stupidness + big wall - experience =  grade 2 adventure*) and use it well.  I wish him luck.

Anyway here’s a little video of his summer that proves Lowe’s maxim of ‘The best climber in the world is the one having the most fun!’ - even if the fun only starts at the end of the day.

*grade 2 adventure is an experience that is terrible at the time (no matter how much you smile at the video camera), but which afterwards becomes one of the best/most important episodes of your life.

A short video about me talking about Cold Wars by Visual Collective.  I’m working with these guys to make a film out of Psychovertical, so of Man on Wire meets Touching the Void, which although sounded daft when they began talking about it, having seen this video I think it could work.

If people want a copy for Xmas then get your order in asap here.

Had a tough few weeks on the road, pushing my body a bit too hard at times, with late nights and early mornings, and a few thousand miles traveled on bus, plane and car.  Having done a talk almost every night for a week, including some 5am starts, my body had started to crumble, with a sore throat and general ‘ME’ style fatigue chasing me (I really felt for Goarge Michael, his tour cancelled due to pneumonia - although I don’t smoke, so maybe that had more to do with it!). Sleep becomes the overriding obsession, as well as staying one step ahead of illness (drank a lot of lemon and honey in hot water last week), anything in order to perform. Joe Simpson tweeted me to ask if I ever stopped talking and touring, and I guess the answer was no.

Anyway I guess it came to a head in Inverness this week, where I was well and truly knackered (got home from Southampton late, drove to Leeds, did gig, got home at midnight got up at 5.30am to get train to Manchester airport for 8.55 flight).  I knew something was up as my mood was a bit odd, getting irritated easily (mainly with Karen) at little things.  I guess I always give the impression that I’m laid back, and don’t give myself enough slack.  Almost every date has sold out, and this little book tour has taken on a bit of a life of it’s own, and I felt people where expecting a lot more than I had in mind!

Anyway at the Inverness gig I seemed to start well, but for some reason latched onto this guy in the front who’s wife was Polish (she wasn’t there) and kept making stupid polish jokes all the time, the words seemingly bypassing any thought process.  To make matters worse I made a joke about my son telling Leo Houlding (after Ella had told I was obsessed with him) that I was a racist - which got a big a big laugh.  I then told the theatre he only said that because I said ‘Oh lets have a chinky’, which less people found funny, and then - from no where - (maybe I thought I was loosing people and had to come up with a real killer line), I said - wait for it - “oh and I’d stabbed thoes two Paki blokes”!!!!!!! 

Lets just say I doubt even Bernard Manning would have spoken that line. 

The weird thing is that every night I’d told the story about a Sikh guy buying me a cup of tea when I was in a very low point, and after that I knew I could never be racist.  For some reason I didn’t tell that story (probably too busy basing Polish people), but that racist strand somehow got turned around - but not in a good way.

I heard to other day how General Patton, one of the most rightwing and aggressive generals of World War two, was actually a very thoughtful man, and how on leaving a unit he’s just chastised as being cowards, or threatening to court martial them all unless they gave him blood and thunder, he’d sit in his staff car and beat himself up about what he’d said, and in order to get over it he’d write a little prayer.

I guess standing on a stage with no real script, your brain junked up by a lack of sleep, the audience leading you on, there’s no wonder that I can be a bit edgy (I’m no Ricky Gervias).  Throw in a disconnect between brain and mouth, ideas that form on the tongue, a hint of self destruction, as well a drop of torrets, then I guess that’s why things can turn out that way.  Maybe I should stop trying to do anything but a normal climbing lecture.

Needless to say I’ve said a little prayer.