The route
Snitch lives at Symonds Yat, a limestone cliff in the Wye Valley, about 30 km upstream from Wintours Leap. Located on one of this far-from-world-class cliff's less impressive sectors, Snitch is so unremarkable that even a search on the voluminous UKClimbing website brings up no photos or forum discussion. Just a terse database entry suggesting an overall grade of "Hard Very Severe" or HVS and a relatively low technical grade of 4c. In the opaque world of Brit grading this suggests a route whose main characteristic is pump rather than difficulty. Or boldness rather than difficulty (you are supposed to make this important distinction from examining the route visually or finding other clues within the guidebook description). Maybe YDS 5.8? I am grateful to my friend Toby Archer (destined for a starring role in the 2002 and 2003 episodes - if I get that far) for tracking down these photos of his ascent of Snitch in 2010.
The context
1981 was my final school year. I was sixteen years old and had become quite competitive about rock climbing, at least within my extremely limited peer group; essentially the handful of boys (there were no girls) at my school who climbed. At the time, the magic grade for us was VS or "Very Severe". No-one at the school had ever led one. Having bumbled up a few "Severes" I fancied my chances.
It seems quaint now that such a low grade could be a goal. One explanation is that we were all based in the south-east of England, an area generally devoid of rock, so none of us knew other climbers who could give us perspective on what was and wasn't attainable. And, of course, there were no web forums or Facebook groups where we could find advice or support, nor any climbing gyms where we could benchmark ourselves against others.
What we did have were climbing magazines, but they portrayed an apparent fantasy world of mythical beings doing extraordinary things. Training or coaching articles, endorsing the possibility of progression for normal people, are now a standard space-filler in climbing magazines, but did not start to appear until the late 1980s. I still have a few British magazines from the early 1980s, all editions of the vaguely punk "Crags", which was favoured over the more establishment "Climber and Rambler". Leafing through them now I would classify all the content in just three categories: destination articles about British or foreign cliffs, listings of new routes and cliquey in-jokes. Nothing for the clueless beginner.
The ascent
Again, more accurately: the attempt. In March 1981 a Duke of Edinburgh Award linked school trip, similar to the one that took me to Wintours Leap in 1979, gave us an opportunity to climb at Symonds Yat. The diary notes "Hideous two days. Snow and mud". The two teachers climbed with less experienced kids and let the rest of us do our own thing. As far as I recall, they did not even require that we stay within sight. I led a couple of "Very Difficult" routes and a "Hard Severe" - one notch below "Very Severe". Then I tried Snitch, which at the time was listed in the guidebook at VS.
I still remember some detail about this attempt and why it ended badly. First of all, the cliff base was very muddy so it was hard to leave the ground with clean boots. Also that protecting the route required fairly small pieces, and, although I had approximately the right sized nuts, they were all threaded with stupidly-long and worryingly-skinny cord. Furthermore, I was using Clog Cogs, an over-designed nut style (long since discontinued) that required a lot of effort to place correctly. After hanging around for too long attempting to set the third or fourth piece, I pumped out and fell off. My belayer held the fall, though I was shocked how near to the ground I came. This was the first lead fall ever taken by someone at my school, so, although not the prize I sought, it was sort of cool.
The main result of this event was that I got more serious about my climbing goals. I decided that I needed both better gear and to be a whole lot "stronger" (it would be years before the average climber differentiated strength from power or stamina). For the former, I got hold of some wired nuts, probably Chouinard Stoppers, though I am not certain, and, definitely, a couple of Wild Country Friends, the first cams on the market. For the latter, I started doing pull-ups. I guess that period was the sweet spot for me in terms of growth hormones and muscle development, as I went from managing two pull-ups to about twenty in just a few months; a scale of progression that I have never subsequently achieved in anything. (If only a time-machine could have visited me from the noughties's with a Beastmaker.)
In June, after finishing my A-Levels, I did at last lead a route graded VS: Mutiny Crack at Burbage in the Peak District. A month later, during the summer holidays, I visited the sandstone cliff Simonside in Northumberland and was inspired by a fun-looking HVS finger crack, Nee Perchass. It proved fairly straightforward. Ironically, none of these routes hold the same grades now! Snitch has been upgraded to HVS, Mutiny Crack downgraded to HS and Nee Perchass to VS.
Subsequent ascents
In October 1982, just after starting three years at Bristol University, I visited Symonds Yat with the university mountaineering club in a convoy of erratically-piloted minibuses. As a relatively-experienced climber (ha ha ...) I was supposed to be there to top-rope "freshers", but obviously also had some personal business. From the diary: "Then in gathering gloom, I revenged myself on Snitch. Runners all "pinged" before I reached the top - quite exciting really".
And another thing ...
While writing this blog post I googled "Clog Cogs" and stumbled over this astonishing historical artifact (below). Apparently a genuine 1977 magazine ad. The 1970s owner of Clog went on to found the eponymous "Denny Moorhouse Mountaineering", better known as DMM.
Snitch lives at Symonds Yat, a limestone cliff in the Wye Valley, about 30 km upstream from Wintours Leap. Located on one of this far-from-world-class cliff's less impressive sectors, Snitch is so unremarkable that even a search on the voluminous UKClimbing website brings up no photos or forum discussion. Just a terse database entry suggesting an overall grade of "Hard Very Severe" or HVS and a relatively low technical grade of 4c. In the opaque world of Brit grading this suggests a route whose main characteristic is pump rather than difficulty. Or boldness rather than difficulty (you are supposed to make this important distinction from examining the route visually or finding other clues within the guidebook description). Maybe YDS 5.8? I am grateful to my friend Toby Archer (destined for a starring role in the 2002 and 2003 episodes - if I get that far) for tracking down these photos of his ascent of Snitch in 2010.
 |
| all photos © Toby Archer |
The context
1981 was my final school year. I was sixteen years old and had become quite competitive about rock climbing, at least within my extremely limited peer group; essentially the handful of boys (there were no girls) at my school who climbed. At the time, the magic grade for us was VS or "Very Severe". No-one at the school had ever led one. Having bumbled up a few "Severes" I fancied my chances.
It seems quaint now that such a low grade could be a goal. One explanation is that we were all based in the south-east of England, an area generally devoid of rock, so none of us knew other climbers who could give us perspective on what was and wasn't attainable. And, of course, there were no web forums or Facebook groups where we could find advice or support, nor any climbing gyms where we could benchmark ourselves against others.
What we did have were climbing magazines, but they portrayed an apparent fantasy world of mythical beings doing extraordinary things. Training or coaching articles, endorsing the possibility of progression for normal people, are now a standard space-filler in climbing magazines, but did not start to appear until the late 1980s. I still have a few British magazines from the early 1980s, all editions of the vaguely punk "Crags", which was favoured over the more establishment "Climber and Rambler". Leafing through them now I would classify all the content in just three categories: destination articles about British or foreign cliffs, listings of new routes and cliquey in-jokes. Nothing for the clueless beginner.
The ascent
Again, more accurately: the attempt. In March 1981 a Duke of Edinburgh Award linked school trip, similar to the one that took me to Wintours Leap in 1979, gave us an opportunity to climb at Symonds Yat. The diary notes "Hideous two days. Snow and mud". The two teachers climbed with less experienced kids and let the rest of us do our own thing. As far as I recall, they did not even require that we stay within sight. I led a couple of "Very Difficult" routes and a "Hard Severe" - one notch below "Very Severe". Then I tried Snitch, which at the time was listed in the guidebook at VS.
I still remember some detail about this attempt and why it ended badly. First of all, the cliff base was very muddy so it was hard to leave the ground with clean boots. Also that protecting the route required fairly small pieces, and, although I had approximately the right sized nuts, they were all threaded with stupidly-long and worryingly-skinny cord. Furthermore, I was using Clog Cogs, an over-designed nut style (long since discontinued) that required a lot of effort to place correctly. After hanging around for too long attempting to set the third or fourth piece, I pumped out and fell off. My belayer held the fall, though I was shocked how near to the ground I came. This was the first lead fall ever taken by someone at my school, so, although not the prize I sought, it was sort of cool.
The main result of this event was that I got more serious about my climbing goals. I decided that I needed both better gear and to be a whole lot "stronger" (it would be years before the average climber differentiated strength from power or stamina). For the former, I got hold of some wired nuts, probably Chouinard Stoppers, though I am not certain, and, definitely, a couple of Wild Country Friends, the first cams on the market. For the latter, I started doing pull-ups. I guess that period was the sweet spot for me in terms of growth hormones and muscle development, as I went from managing two pull-ups to about twenty in just a few months; a scale of progression that I have never subsequently achieved in anything. (If only a time-machine could have visited me from the noughties's with a Beastmaker.)
In June, after finishing my A-Levels, I did at last lead a route graded VS: Mutiny Crack at Burbage in the Peak District. A month later, during the summer holidays, I visited the sandstone cliff Simonside in Northumberland and was inspired by a fun-looking HVS finger crack, Nee Perchass. It proved fairly straightforward. Ironically, none of these routes hold the same grades now! Snitch has been upgraded to HVS, Mutiny Crack downgraded to HS and Nee Perchass to VS.
Subsequent ascents
In October 1982, just after starting three years at Bristol University, I visited Symonds Yat with the university mountaineering club in a convoy of erratically-piloted minibuses. As a relatively-experienced climber (ha ha ...) I was supposed to be there to top-rope "freshers", but obviously also had some personal business. From the diary: "Then in gathering gloom, I revenged myself on Snitch. Runners all "pinged" before I reached the top - quite exciting really".
And another thing ...
While writing this blog post I googled "Clog Cogs" and stumbled over this astonishing historical artifact (below). Apparently a genuine 1977 magazine ad. The 1970s owner of Clog went on to found the eponymous "Denny Moorhouse Mountaineering", better known as DMM.
 |
| What was Denny thinking! photo © The Scottish Mountain Heritage Collection |
