I have heard climbers talk of a rat that needs feeding. It’s a very apt metaphor for the whole subject of addiction and adrenalin.
However….I wont humour vermin.
I prefer primates, real or metaphysical.
And my monkey has a voracious appetite for adrenalin.
He chatters away, lips a blur most of the time. How he wants action, how he likes the wind in his fur and that thrill that brings the adrenalin. Always scheming, pushing, pressing, planning, getting me to check the weather forecast, is anywhere within reach dry enough for climbing?
However….I wont humour vermin.
I prefer primates, real or metaphysical.
And my monkey has a voracious appetite for adrenalin.
He chatters away, lips a blur most of the time. How he wants action, how he likes the wind in his fur and that thrill that brings the adrenalin. Always scheming, pushing, pressing, planning, getting me to check the weather forecast, is anywhere within reach dry enough for climbing?
I call my climbing partners and text them, are they free, how do they fancy this or that, what do they think the weather might bring. Plans, short term and long, a weekend trip, an early start, a journey abroad.
The monkey has an encyclopaedic knowledge of what pushes my buttons. He is telepathic and plants seeds while I dose or while I’m at my work desk. In meetings at work I drift far away as the monkey recites hypnotic tales of adventure into my bored ear, “You could be doing that” he tells me.
I check UKClimbing at my desk, for the 10th time today, any posts off interest?
In between the online weather checks at mwis.org.uk and my obsessive scanning of UKC I am racking up serious hours on the internet, these hours are logged and may be scrutinised by superiors but the monkey doesn’t care, he tells me I work in the IT department and its my privilege, I suppose he is right, I deserve some sort of virtual escape from the confines of this mind numbing office.
So, this monkey, does he ever sleep, well, kind off. I do get peace sometimes. When I climb high on a rock face fiddling to place gear as my arms pump out he is dead quiet, you wouldn’t know he was there. When I plant my ice axes high above gear he sleeps.
When I swoop through the rush hour streets on my bike he nods. He moans for action and when it comes he is narcoleptic.
We have a tight relationship, the monkey and I. But sometimes he can be trouble.
Once as I waited for my climbing partner in a Calendar carpark for a days climbing in Glencoe the monkey awoke and started to sew his devious seed.
Its 8am, my mobile rings, “Bad news”, comes a voice filled with disappointment.
I sense it immediately and the monkey’s attention is roused.
“Where are you”, I counter.
“Still in Dumfries man, stuck behind a big motorway crash, not even moving!”
“Oohh, you’re joking, shit”
“Its not even moving, I can’t believe it, cant reverse and cant escape, its nose to tail for miles in each direction”
“We were making such good time”
Jimbo is despondent and I agree to give it some time to see if the traffic moves.
I drink coffee from my flask while the monkey goes to work.
“Looks like that’s your days climbing gone to shit? Perfect days are rare.”
I ignore the monkey, fidgeting pensively in the car, I’m in no mood for his chitter, but just what is his angle this time, hmm.
Its 8.30, he must know something now. I call Jimbo.
“Hey, whats happening”
Then the words I was dreading, “not moved for half an hour man”, he sighs.
“Ohhh this sucks”, I am as disappointed as him.
Its looks like he is going nowhere, through chatting with other drivers Jimbo is confident that the tailback is miles long and he is going nowhere for a few hours. With great difficulty we abort the mission, I tell him I will just head home. He tells me that to compound matters he needs a shit and is trapped in the car indefinitely. I laugh and we finish the call.
By the time I hang up the monkey has talked me into completing the journey to Glencoe alone.
“Why don’t you just go up for some scrambling and some fresh air?”
Before I take time to weigh the true intentions of his loaded suggestion I am moving.
I leave the car park turning right and the hairs on my neck are aloft with anticipation. For the whole 90 min drive the monkey is in my ear with schemes, “park the car for the Buachaille and ascend Curved Ridge, you know the Rannoch wall has many easy routes on it, have you ever considered soloing Aggags or January?”.
I’m gripped by the monkeys suggestions and I toil with the concept. The climbing is straight forward but it’s a 3-4 pitch mountain route with all the objective dangers you would expect of an ancient Scottish mountain.
The monkey is quick to explain, “Rannoch Wall see’s a lot of traffic though, it may be the most frequented mountain multi pitch in the Coe, its not so loose you know”
I drive with my head full of questions. I’m not a soloist, especially not on mountain multi-pitch routes. But the car is moving at 70 mph, I’m just along for the ride.
At 9.30 I arrive at the Lagangarbh car park, its full of cars. I see a minibus full of students gearing up as I finish parking, I am quickly out of the car gearing up for the walk in, better be quick to get clear of this large party.
My black Diamond 30 litre is packed for a mountain day but I have no partner and will be pitching no climbs. I ferret through my bag emptying all but essential kit. I’ll need one half rope in case I need to ab-seil off something, I’ll need my shoes, chalk, harness and a small selection of wires for plugging in if I get scared or for building an anchor.
I finish gearing up and with one last check I put the car keys in a zipped pocket. I’m off, jogging slowly I trot past the large group. I pass two others as I move onto Curved Ridge proper, with a wave off acknowledgement I move onwards and up towards Rannoch Wall. My head is still full of chat as I psychically spar with the monkey,
“Am I really going to do this”
“Yes, yes, it’ll be great, its perfect, what a day for it”
“What if there are climbers doing routes”, I wont do it if I find climbers there”
“Just keep moving, your making good time, lets go, go, go.”
As the scrambling steepens and intensifies I pause to gaze behind me for a moment, nobody in sight, great. I flow up the ridge loving every minute of the scrambling, never hard, positive grips everywhere, but always careful, I’m getting fully into gear, into the zone.
I feel so alive. Breathing well. Moving well. Flowing. The chitter chatter of that monkey has ebbed away to blissful silence. He is on the nod.
I pull over a short vertical wall on Curved Ridge and see the Rannoch Wall, its ancient Rhyolite features entice me onwards. The Rannoch Wall is many things but most off all today, its all mine. Deserted. A ghost wall.
Today Its ancient aura is not soiled by noisey shouting sasenachs or by garish goretex.
This is just too much, its clearly meant to happen, that damn monkey was right. I gear up quickly, shoes, harness, chalk bag, some wires and screw gates. I put my approach shoes in the pack and adjust all the contents for balanced movement on the wall. I fine tune the sternum and waist straps on my pack and tighten the Velcro on my climbing shoes. One more gaze down the Buachaille and I confirm solitude before chalking. With a skywards gaze and a deep breathe I am on the initial moves of Aggags Groove.
“Climbing”
My head is absolutely ringing with adrenalin the moment I leave terra firma without rope. Its immediately strange, a grand mountain setting and no rope or partner, unknown territory. I move cautiously, mere metres off the ground the exposure is more than I am familiar with and I am deep breathing to control my emotions. By 15-20 metres my breathing is all that I can hear, its seems impossibly loud in my head. Every hold is tested before fully weighting and moving on. I palm strike suspect looking areas of rock and move with as much precision as I can muster. Every action carries massive significance.
I need to get up this rock and onto safe ground, this is no place to linger without rope. I feel a nagging voice, its not the monkey. Its my survival instinct, its telling me that I need to concentrate on ‘not concentrating’ and allow myself to relax. I ponder what panic would mean in a situation like this and its clear that the mind game is the biggest part of this challenge. I am alone in my bubble.
Then my solitude and concentration are broken by distant voices, I pause, looking down to the base of the wall for the first time, the two climbers I passed have arrived. I am sure one of them is pointing at me.
This interruption is not good. I can feel their eyes burning into me. It feels like a very private moment has been violated. I have snapped out of the zone I was in and need to get back . I have a word with myself actually talking out loud. I’m probably half way, its only been a few minutes since I started the route. I have no idea what route I’m on by now, without pitches the line becomes unimportant, my only ambition is to complete the face to safety.
I forget the voices below and before I know it I’m pulling over the top onto the scrambly ground above the wall. My mind is on fire and I’m ecstatic.
I move up 10 or 20 metres to a level area where I can get a seat and ponder my climb. I sit to relax a minute but my mind is racing as I take in the view over Rannoch Moor, it’s a beautiful day.
It’s been a magic experience that will keep the monkey quiet for a few days.
But there is another voice as I change shoes for the scramble back down. It’s the voice of ‘what if’. As I progress downwards on Curved Ridge my mind is awash once again.
“That was a selfish act” says the voice, “loose rock, a simple slip, a muscle cramp, sudden heavy rain, that was madness, it’s not worth the risk, how could you do that to your wife”.
I cannot disagree and while still basking in the excitement and adrenalin of the climb I feel a little disgusted with myself. Today the monkey got the upper hand, its not been the first time and what are the chances of it being the last?.
The drive home is silent, just me and my thoughts, the monkey has had his fix and leaves me in peace to ponder the concepts of guilt and addiction.
I check UKClimbing at my desk, for the 10th time today, any posts off interest?
In between the online weather checks at mwis.org.uk and my obsessive scanning of UKC I am racking up serious hours on the internet, these hours are logged and may be scrutinised by superiors but the monkey doesn’t care, he tells me I work in the IT department and its my privilege, I suppose he is right, I deserve some sort of virtual escape from the confines of this mind numbing office.
So, this monkey, does he ever sleep, well, kind off. I do get peace sometimes. When I climb high on a rock face fiddling to place gear as my arms pump out he is dead quiet, you wouldn’t know he was there. When I plant my ice axes high above gear he sleeps.
When I swoop through the rush hour streets on my bike he nods. He moans for action and when it comes he is narcoleptic.
We have a tight relationship, the monkey and I. But sometimes he can be trouble.
Once as I waited for my climbing partner in a Calendar carpark for a days climbing in Glencoe the monkey awoke and started to sew his devious seed.
Its 8am, my mobile rings, “Bad news”, comes a voice filled with disappointment.
I sense it immediately and the monkey’s attention is roused.
“Where are you”, I counter.
“Still in Dumfries man, stuck behind a big motorway crash, not even moving!”
“Oohh, you’re joking, shit”
“Its not even moving, I can’t believe it, cant reverse and cant escape, its nose to tail for miles in each direction”
“We were making such good time”
Jimbo is despondent and I agree to give it some time to see if the traffic moves.
I drink coffee from my flask while the monkey goes to work.
“Looks like that’s your days climbing gone to shit? Perfect days are rare.”
I ignore the monkey, fidgeting pensively in the car, I’m in no mood for his chitter, but just what is his angle this time, hmm.
Its 8.30, he must know something now. I call Jimbo.
“Hey, whats happening”
Then the words I was dreading, “not moved for half an hour man”, he sighs.
“Ohhh this sucks”, I am as disappointed as him.
Its looks like he is going nowhere, through chatting with other drivers Jimbo is confident that the tailback is miles long and he is going nowhere for a few hours. With great difficulty we abort the mission, I tell him I will just head home. He tells me that to compound matters he needs a shit and is trapped in the car indefinitely. I laugh and we finish the call.
By the time I hang up the monkey has talked me into completing the journey to Glencoe alone.
“Why don’t you just go up for some scrambling and some fresh air?”
Before I take time to weigh the true intentions of his loaded suggestion I am moving.
I leave the car park turning right and the hairs on my neck are aloft with anticipation. For the whole 90 min drive the monkey is in my ear with schemes, “park the car for the Buachaille and ascend Curved Ridge, you know the Rannoch wall has many easy routes on it, have you ever considered soloing Aggags or January?”.
I’m gripped by the monkeys suggestions and I toil with the concept. The climbing is straight forward but it’s a 3-4 pitch mountain route with all the objective dangers you would expect of an ancient Scottish mountain.
The monkey is quick to explain, “Rannoch Wall see’s a lot of traffic though, it may be the most frequented mountain multi pitch in the Coe, its not so loose you know”
I drive with my head full of questions. I’m not a soloist, especially not on mountain multi-pitch routes. But the car is moving at 70 mph, I’m just along for the ride.
At 9.30 I arrive at the Lagangarbh car park, its full of cars. I see a minibus full of students gearing up as I finish parking, I am quickly out of the car gearing up for the walk in, better be quick to get clear of this large party.
My black Diamond 30 litre is packed for a mountain day but I have no partner and will be pitching no climbs. I ferret through my bag emptying all but essential kit. I’ll need one half rope in case I need to ab-seil off something, I’ll need my shoes, chalk, harness and a small selection of wires for plugging in if I get scared or for building an anchor.
I finish gearing up and with one last check I put the car keys in a zipped pocket. I’m off, jogging slowly I trot past the large group. I pass two others as I move onto Curved Ridge proper, with a wave off acknowledgement I move onwards and up towards Rannoch Wall. My head is still full of chat as I psychically spar with the monkey,
“Am I really going to do this”
“Yes, yes, it’ll be great, its perfect, what a day for it”
“What if there are climbers doing routes”, I wont do it if I find climbers there”
“Just keep moving, your making good time, lets go, go, go.”
As the scrambling steepens and intensifies I pause to gaze behind me for a moment, nobody in sight, great. I flow up the ridge loving every minute of the scrambling, never hard, positive grips everywhere, but always careful, I’m getting fully into gear, into the zone.
I feel so alive. Breathing well. Moving well. Flowing. The chitter chatter of that monkey has ebbed away to blissful silence. He is on the nod.
I pull over a short vertical wall on Curved Ridge and see the Rannoch Wall, its ancient Rhyolite features entice me onwards. The Rannoch Wall is many things but most off all today, its all mine. Deserted. A ghost wall.
Today Its ancient aura is not soiled by noisey shouting sasenachs or by garish goretex.
This is just too much, its clearly meant to happen, that damn monkey was right. I gear up quickly, shoes, harness, chalk bag, some wires and screw gates. I put my approach shoes in the pack and adjust all the contents for balanced movement on the wall. I fine tune the sternum and waist straps on my pack and tighten the Velcro on my climbing shoes. One more gaze down the Buachaille and I confirm solitude before chalking. With a skywards gaze and a deep breathe I am on the initial moves of Aggags Groove.
“Climbing”
My head is absolutely ringing with adrenalin the moment I leave terra firma without rope. Its immediately strange, a grand mountain setting and no rope or partner, unknown territory. I move cautiously, mere metres off the ground the exposure is more than I am familiar with and I am deep breathing to control my emotions. By 15-20 metres my breathing is all that I can hear, its seems impossibly loud in my head. Every hold is tested before fully weighting and moving on. I palm strike suspect looking areas of rock and move with as much precision as I can muster. Every action carries massive significance.
I need to get up this rock and onto safe ground, this is no place to linger without rope. I feel a nagging voice, its not the monkey. Its my survival instinct, its telling me that I need to concentrate on ‘not concentrating’ and allow myself to relax. I ponder what panic would mean in a situation like this and its clear that the mind game is the biggest part of this challenge. I am alone in my bubble.
Then my solitude and concentration are broken by distant voices, I pause, looking down to the base of the wall for the first time, the two climbers I passed have arrived. I am sure one of them is pointing at me.
This interruption is not good. I can feel their eyes burning into me. It feels like a very private moment has been violated. I have snapped out of the zone I was in and need to get back . I have a word with myself actually talking out loud. I’m probably half way, its only been a few minutes since I started the route. I have no idea what route I’m on by now, without pitches the line becomes unimportant, my only ambition is to complete the face to safety.
I forget the voices below and before I know it I’m pulling over the top onto the scrambly ground above the wall. My mind is on fire and I’m ecstatic.
I move up 10 or 20 metres to a level area where I can get a seat and ponder my climb. I sit to relax a minute but my mind is racing as I take in the view over Rannoch Moor, it’s a beautiful day.
It’s been a magic experience that will keep the monkey quiet for a few days.
But there is another voice as I change shoes for the scramble back down. It’s the voice of ‘what if’. As I progress downwards on Curved Ridge my mind is awash once again.
“That was a selfish act” says the voice, “loose rock, a simple slip, a muscle cramp, sudden heavy rain, that was madness, it’s not worth the risk, how could you do that to your wife”.
I cannot disagree and while still basking in the excitement and adrenalin of the climb I feel a little disgusted with myself. Today the monkey got the upper hand, its not been the first time and what are the chances of it being the last?.
The drive home is silent, just me and my thoughts, the monkey has had his fix and leaves me in peace to ponder the concepts of guilt and addiction.
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