Its a Friday afternoon and as usual I have taken a ‘free’ known to the teachers as a study period, I was probably meant to have been in a physics lesson learning about force vectors or some such rubbish. My playing hooky has a reason though, a weekly operation that requires military planning, precision timing and a fair bit of cheek. Whilst the PE master is down on the field making year nines’ run about in the rain, throwing odd shaped balls about, Atholl and I are poised to making a daring run into the games store.
We have to borrow the keys from the office, dash into the store and then hide the contraband in my brothers car, parked at the other end of the school, as well as return the keys without being caught. What we are lifting from the school are a few ropes, a rack and a couple of harnesses.
This particular weekend we are heading to subluminal, a small single pitch cliff on the swanage coastline. We had been planning the excursion for weeks, and finally another friend had passed his driving test so we could make the journey independently, and have our own little adventure.
These mission were starting to grow in bravery, we had started top roping and leading at Dancing ledge, which had already seen Atholl deck out from 30ft despite this we had out grown the venue and needed to move on newer and more exciting things. Subliminal would be the first cliff that would require us to use a guidebook.
My first lead was the easiest at the crag, High Street a pleasant VD, unlike most single pitch crags this one required an abseil approach, and not being wise in the selection of where we set the ropes up, a few dramatic jumps across imposing chasms. On reacquaintance they are little more than big steps, none the less it all added to the sense of adventure in our early forays into the unknown. It was also the first place that I started to shake like a shitting dog when on lead as the fear took over.
The first big mistake we made, well actually I made was to forget the rope for lead climbing out again. Too embarrassed to admit it I went round the corner to ‘have a dump’ and then promptly soloed up and then down the easy chimney to retrieve the rope. On my return all atholl said was ‘that must have hurt, shitting that rope out!’
Before long we had ticked most of the easy routes at the crag, and were becoming ever confident in our ability, so attempted the harder test piece of ‘Stroof’ a well named E1 finger crack. Our siege tactics were certainly not a text book ascent, but an ascent non the less. It was neither my first nor last lead fall, but it was my first breach into the realms of extreme climbing.
The thing I remember about this cliff is that it was more often sunny than not, and every time down there in the early days was an adventure. Something that probably spurred me onto taking greater and greater risks within climbing. Even on that first acquaintances where we had stolen climbing equipment from the school was one of the best climbing experiences I have had. I had shared it with Atholl my first climbing partner.
Atholl is a total card, the last I heard he was selling cars again, I say again because the last time he was a car salesman he was sacked after driving a brand new Williams Renault Clio off the back off the delivery truck and then promptly into the rear end of another car as he delivered it to another garage. Apparently not the done thing!
I returned to the crag recently, forgetting my rock shoes so only soloed the easy lines to get a feel for the place again. They were reasonably interesting in my sports casual trainers. It wasn’t the worse thing I ever forgot there though, I once returned from university with a lass I went to school with who had got into climbing so trying to impress, I thought I’d show off my climbing skill.
Arriving at the top of the cliff I unpacked my bag only to realise that all my climbing gear had been safely packed away by me into another bag, ready to fly out to
Yosemite the following day. So I was left with one quickdraw and three wires. I remember cruising up the old classics of my youth, making light work of them, despite only being able to place one runner per route. Sam thought I was insane, which was probably an incredibly insightful observation, suffice to say she wasn’t impressed.
I can’t mention this crag without bringing to your attention the best severe I have come across would be a sinful act. I have tackled similar terrain at Gogarth, and usually it requires at least an E3 grade. Here however everything is in the right place, and the right width to back and foot easily. The route is Avernus and climbs up to the apex of a cave before back and footing out across it in a stupendous position, then finally exiting through a natural blow hole into the blinding sunlight.
My greatest error of judgement at swanage during my early days climbing, involved a shunt a shunt and rope soloing. The most obvious line on the main section of the Swanage cliffs was Finale Groove, a three star classic line that from the topo goes straight up an open groove, it was easily located from above because of the nesting restriction makers on the cliff top. I tied off a few pitifully rusty stakes and abseiled in.
It was too late before I realise that finale groove might well go straight up, but it also overhangs 4 metres in its entire length. So as I hung there in space looking at the rock thinking that this is going to be sporty as I descend to the ruckle below. Starting the climb was easy, I just had to keep going up and try not to fall off otherwise it would be a heart stopping pendulum into space. I did try, and my heart did stop momentary as i screamed into a plummeting arc the rock a distant memory, and there I was hanging in space, thinking about those stakes.
I had read up on prussiking in Ian Peter and Alan Fyffes bible of rock climbing. In a strange twist years later I would work for Ian and climb with Alan’s son Blair. My screams and the subsequent faffing must have raised concerns somewhere because before I new it the Coastguard helicopter was hoovering next to me. I gave them a confident smile and wave hoping to give the impression that this was all planned, as they saw me ascending at snails pace they flew off, spectacle over.
All this happen before I reached 18, and my survival was probably down to luck alone. Those first few lessons where harsh, and could well have ended disastrously. I recently learnt that a friends climbing partner fell off these cliff when starting to climb paralysing herself. There but for the grace of gods.
I would like to say I learnt my lessons, but I still occasionally forget my rock boots, ropes or even rack. Llion will remember having to climb Dream of White Horse with four wires, two cams and six slings, Simon will remember soloing up Light House Arete to retrieve the lead ropes, although I suspect it was a deliberate ploy to make me solo the route and Elaine will remember my embarrassment of having to lead easy slate routes in trainers after forgetting my rock boots again. Still I am now a qualified mountaineering instructor so have the judgement of experience and the experience to judge!
Getting there
Head to Wareham, Dorset where you can follow signposts to swanage, as you enter the town you will see some brown signpost to Durleston Country Park follow these to the car park, then head towards the lighthouse, from there walk down and slightly right until your reach a small broken platform of rock that extends along the top of the cliff.
The crag is a great venue for novices who wish a little bit more of an adventure, or those wanting to have a steady introduction to climbing on sea cliffs. Absolute beginners may well find the experience a little overwhelming.
The crag is in the Climbers Club Guide to Swanage and Portland, as well as the new RockFax Dorset guidebook.