A Victorian Dad's Guild to Climbing, Part One - Duncan Lee
By Duncan Lee
So you think that climbing is about enjoying yourself?
WRONG!
You think that it is about clipping chunky solid bolts in the sunshine for pleasure?
WRONG!
You think it is about centrally heated climbing wall or being two feet above a big fat bouldering mat?
WRONG AGAIN!
Climbing is about being able to appreciate "quality suffering" and adversity in the mountains. In the words of the 18th century philosopher Kant "It is by his activities and not by enjoyment that man feels alive" or as another lesser known thinker would say "we can't do that, it looks far too much like fun." The seeking of instant pleasure and gratification is also almost instantly forgotten, it is the hand sweating knee trembling epic struggles and moments of terror that remain lodged in ones memory for ever. Indelibly printed on ones consciousness in a way that puerile guidebook ticking and the all-consuming obsession with grades can never be.
The main factors that can be combined to provide quality suffering are miserable wet windy weather, off-width cracks, slime covered wet rock, fulmar vomit, hand shredding jamming cracks, huge approaches up scree with ludicrously heavy sacks, belaying Chris Williamson or any other members of team gasteropod, unprotected hold less slabs, a day in the Welsh hills with Colin Maddison in December, Lockwood's chimney complete with stream in January (the day Scumbag failed his interview as a chimney sweep was a fine example) or anything else that any droll old sage refers to as being "character building youth." Alpine climbing is therefore perfectly suited to provide large quantities of quality misery and rarely fails to deliver but on occasions 30 feet of gritstone can do the trick leaving one feeling battered and exhausted both mentally and physically. These battles generally lead to a greater appreciation of your adversary and the savage yet beautiful mountain environment.
Real moments of quality suffering generally occur on the sort of route that takes you weeks (or at least two bottles of wine or eight pints) to convince yourself that you did enjoy the experience after all, all be it in a sick and twisted way. Having finally deluded yourself that the experience was one that has enriched your sad little life it is now time to recommend the little adventure in question to all your friends and acquaintances for their own good. With luck one of the fools will fall for it and hey presto true gut busting pleasure can be yours at last as they relate to you every intricate detail of their epic and call you every name under the sun. Just ignore these trivial insults and brickbats and bask in the warm glow of satisfaction that you have helped a wayward soul see the light. They will remember the experience and eventually return for more punishment that ferments slowly into pleasure and delight.
In the words of Stephen Venables "The memory of the suffering always fades, while the fulfilment glows brighter."
Earnest J Sandbagger.
