As regular readers might well have picked up from my occasional references to it, I enjoy climbing. Almost every week I climb with a group of friends. When the weather permits we like to get out to one of the many neighbouring gritstone crags, but if the weather is poor (as it has been too frequently recently) there are several good-quality artificial, indoor walls in the vicinity.*
Having been at it pretty regularly over the summer and autumn we have been beginning to feel quite pleased with our progress recently. What had been our top grades until now we are starting to take for granted.** The smugness disappeared on Tuesday. A climber turned up who we have known for some time. He is quite well-known (John Stevenson) and he has actually published a book about his exploits. Although we are aware that John is in a different league from us the extent of the gap between our standards and his had not really registered previously.
In conversation over coffee it emerged that he had recently returned from a visit to Spain, had spent the previous week winter climbing in the Cairngorms, and is now training for an expedition to Patagonia in February. His training took the form of repeated ascents of routes one grade above our best–but wearing a pack filled with training weights! Achievement is all relative, isn’t it. I did begin to feel better when I realised that I am forty years older then John is, but I struggle to find comparable encouragement in relation to my art.
*Our nearest, and probably our favourite is the Big Depot in Leeds, but we also use the Harrogate climbing wall and sometimes Awesome Walls in Sheffield.
**6b, British standard, but I understand that this might be different in other countries.