the nostalgia project: the Squamish years, Canada (2012-2017)

I have not written anything fresh for this project for the six years after I moved to Squamish as most of my significant ascents and experiences have already been documented in this blog. For example:

2012: The Fleeing Heifer and Blackwater, two Squamish 5.12 classics.

2013: Just Can't Do It and Project Grizzly, my first 5.13a and b, respectively. Also, onsighting Crime of the Century.

2015: Onsighting Freeway.

2016: Horne Lake's Jesus Save the Pushers, the "world's best 5.13a".

2017: Wedge Mountain, the highest summit in Garibaldi Provincial Park, with Leo.

There is an obvious omission here, which is 2014. I rock climbed on 99 days, according to the diary, but did nothing so meaningful that it inspired me to write. The year was sort of notable for my first overnight splitboard tours (not exactly climbing though plenty of uphill action), which I did document. I'll let that blog post represent the year.

the nostalgia project: Inshallah Factor, Jordan (2011)

The route

The East Face of Jebel Rum from Rum village.
Inshallah Factor starts in the centre then heads leftwards to the obvious skyline chimney

Inshallah Factor is a fifteen pitch trad route on the 500m East Face of Jebel Rum in Wadi Rum.  The hardest pitch is 6c (or YDS mid-5.11 or perhaps a Brit E4). Approximately half the pitches are YDS 5.10a or harder.

Wadi Rum is a world famous sandstone rock climbing area in the south of Jordan. The area's other-wordly desert landscapes also make it a popular place to shoot movies about Mars or desert planets in a galaxy far, far away.

Jebel Nassarani west face, Wadi Rum

The context

I have been aware of Wadi Rum from my youth through climbing magazine articles and photos, and have always been interested in climbing there, at least theoretically. After I moved to the Middle East it became a much more practical objective, not just because of proximity but also because of increasing familiarity with arab culture.

I visited Wadi Rum twice from the UAE. The first time for just four days with Wolf in April 2009 then a longer trip with Duncan in March 2011. On both occasions we rented cars in Amman and drove the 300km road to Rum. On both occasions we also camped at the curious "Rest House", an establishment that appears to be government owned and may have been the only option in Rum village when the  guidebook was written. More on that subject later.

On the first trip, Wolf and I did a couple of classic itineraries: ascended Jebel Rum, the highest summit in the area, by Hammad's route, an interminable scramble with some short roped pitches, and also climbed Jebel Burdah via Orange Sunshine, on which we got very off-route and tackled pitches that seemed far harder than the guidebook grade. On both formations we got a good introduction to the challenges of the terrain, in particular that what may look monolithic and compact from a distance can be a maze of deep slot canyons and false summits up close.

Descending Jebel Burdah, © Wolf, 2009

In 2011 our aims were more ambitious. I had been reading extensively about La Guerre Sainte, an extraordinary 12 pitch route direct up a vertical face established by a French team in 2000. I flagged it to Duncan in advance as a possible objective but was aware that it might be too hard with multiple 7a+/ 7b (YDS 5.12a and 5.12b) pitches near the top and would require 4WD assistance for access. Another red flag at that time was that it only seemed to have been repeated by "pro" climbers. Inshallah Factor had also came up in conversation and had the benefit of some recommendations from ordinary climbers.

With the latter in mind, our first climb was The Eye of Allah, which branches off the Jebel Rum route that I had done in 2009 to climb to the east summit of the massif, directly above Inshallah Factor, and is the descent route for all the east face routes. This was a tough day, not least as we had arrived very late the previous night. On the steepest part of the descent we got a rope badly stuck on rappel. I ended up making a scary long solo on loose flakey rock to retrieve it.

Looking through the Eye of Allah © Duncan, 2011

Rum village from Jebel Rum © Wolf, 2009

Me above Jebel Rum East Face after climbing Eye of Allah © Duncan, 2011

Several factors then conspired to change our planning somewhat and lower expectations. Duncan got sick - from food poisoning if I recall correctly, no surprise at the less than hygienic Rest House. It was far colder than on my previous visit and - after six years in the balmy UAE - I had little suitable clothing. My dry skin flared up in the low humidity and dirt, developing persistent splits on several fingers. We were also being harassed continuously to view other accommodation options or sign up for desert tours. That kind of thing is not unusual in developing countries but it was disconcerting how aggressive it had become at Rum village compared to two years earlier.

On the positive side, we made friends with a Brit couple, Amy and Nick, who arrived in the campsite a day after us in their pimped-out Toyota Land Cruiser "Brenda" en route to Cape Town. They were not there primarily to climb but were easily persuaded to join up with us. After Duncan had recovered we all hiked to The Beauty, a classic entry-level Wadi Rum route. We top-roped them on the opening pitch then continued to the top without them.

Me on the Beauty first pitch © Duncan, 2011

Duncan before the Beauty's wide pitch

The Beauty's wide pitch

Rappelling from the Beauty, Rum Village beyond

A couple of days later, after an abandoned attempt  (my fault: bad skin, too cold, too hard) on another classic, Lionheart, the four of us set out in Brenda to explore the desert for three days. This was a very attractive idea as almost everyone who visits Wadi Rum is normally dependent on local 4WD drivers and subject to their fees and itinerary constraints.  I even wondered whether travelling unguided might be illegal and suggested we steer clear of guided groups.

The rebel alliance © Duncan, 2011

This mini-expedition proved very memorable. Conditions were perfect with dust-free skies and wild flowers carpeting the desert. There a few moments of difficult navigation decisions and don't-get-stuck driving in deep sand but nothing of real concern. Our route took us under La Guerre Sainte on the first day but we had already taken it off the ticklist and anyway did not have time for an attempt.

Start of our desert drive, heading south

Passing the east side of Jebel Nassrani
La Guerre Sainte climbs the face right of centre

Desert flowers

We camped for two nights in the remote Barrah Canyon. Duncan and I climbed the tougher-than-expected classic Merlin's Wand. The next day I took a full rest day to heal my skin while Duncan climbed with Amy and Nick. The day after we hiked Jebel Burdah, which gave my hands another day off, then - after a cumulative ~50 km of desert driving in a giant loop - we popped back onto sealed roads and re-established camp at the Rest House

Me on Merlin's Wand, probably complaining about something © Duncan, 2011

Me, Amy, Nick - Barrah Canyon campfire © Duncan, 2011

Barrah Canyon dawn

The ascent

With time running out on our trip and nothing substantial achieved, it was an obvious decision to attempt Inshallah Factor. So we made an early start the next day.

My diary notes are fairly terse: "All day ascent of Inshallah Factor. I led all crack pitches up to the crux (5.10+ ish, some burly stuff), then Duncan made a fine lead of the scary E4 pitch."

I was quite proud of dispatching the cracks in reasonable style. Duncan did indeed make a great lead of the crux pitch, finessing small wired nut placements in the middle of tenuous moves. A similar pitch on most popular north american trad cliffs would probably have been bolted on the first ascent, or at least sprouted a few bolts later.

"Rambled onwards, finding chimneys to be tiring going at the top. Then managed to get back down EoA with no screw-ups."

The top part of Inshallah Factor is a long diagonal traverse on fairly easy terrain, but in a very grand and exposed position. Then the climb disappears into the chimney, which is the most prominent feature of the east face - though the word "chimney" understates its extraordinary scale and speleological nature.  If I recall correctly, you hike a long way back into the mountain in a horizontal passage (maybe 30m or more) then climb a long vertical pitch, then repeat, abandoning much hope of ever seeing daylight again. In the right mood it would probably be fun but I remember being very relieved when we finally surfaced. Researching the descent in advance proved to have been smart (it would be a horrific onsight) and I believe we were down before it got dark or not much later.

Subsequent ascents

I have not been back to Wadi Rum. Later in 2011 I did travel twice to nearby Lebanon - a whole other story - and made a loose plan with a Beirut-based american expat that I climbed with there, John Redwine, to go back to Wadi Rum in 2012 to attempt Guerre Sainte. Sadly John died in a solo climbing accident that winter, searching out ice on the 3000m peaks in northern Lebanon. I did not get to know John very well, but he left a strong impression as a generous-spirited and adventurous person, and writing about him now, almost ten years later, still brings back strong memories.

And another thing ...

Wadi Rum has all the natural attributes to be one of the greatest climbing areas on earth; unfortunately, after my two visits, I found it a hard place to recommend. Two types of frustrating dogma blight the place. One is more understandable, as it is a product of the region: the locals' adherence to strict Sunni Islamic practise. In particular, the absolute invisibility and economic non-participation of women. To a secular western mind that is wrong in all kinds of ways but specifically viewed through the tourism lens, leads to public places (the "Rest House", other eateries and accommodation) being almost literally shit-holes. Sanitation and food hygiene are poor as men there seem too proud to clean up (*). Northern Jordan, where the population is more culturally-heterogeneous and women much more visible, has a very different character.

The other dogma is, regrettably, a British export: an antipathy to bolts in a serious multi-pitch environment that needs them. The first climbers to visit Jordan were 1970s era Brits who indoctrinated the locals that drilled protection was haram.  This is one issue in ascent - a need to step up the boldness and climb within limits - but another in descent where long rappel routes necessarily follow chossy lines of natural flake/ thread anchors where ropes are routinely hard to retrieve. In recent years more pragmatic European and other international climbers have begun establishing routes there and using bolts more freely, but what the place really needs is the funding and will to retro-bolt and/or re-route lines on the old classics.

Extraordinary sand creation found in the desert, unknown artist!

* Apparently Wadi Rum Desert is an exception to this generalisation and offers a good service to climbers. I believe this business appeared after my last visit.

the nostalgia project: Generation-X, Oman (2010)

A reminder: what is the nostalgia project?

The route

Generation-X is a limestone deep water solo (DWS) route above the Indian Ocean, at Gen's Cave on the Musandam coast of Oman. The grade is around 7b+ (5.12c). Gen's Cave is mentioned in the Dibba Coast chapter of UAE Rock Climbing (2009) and Generation-X described in this update PDF published in 2011.

Gen's Cave, Musandam. Generation-X climbs from the sea, centre of the image

Neil Gresham researching Generation-X before making the first ascent, 2011
The eventual line was about one metre to the left

The wild Indian Ocean coast of Musandam forms a continuous cliff line for an extraordinary length. A minimum estimate would 90km; being the straight-line distance from the sleepy UAE/ Omani port of Dibba up to the geopolitical hotspot of the Strait of Hormuz, near Iran. However a close look at a map shows that the coast is a crazy fractal puzzle of inlets within coves within bays, and so is far longer. It would take a lifetime to explore thoroughly. Climbing is accessed by boat and almost always "descended" by jumping back to the sea. For perfection, a visit should be multi-day, using a traditional arabian dhow for sleeping and a smaller powerboat to support climbing. With luck, nights will include a phosphorescence show and days include snorkelling amongst coral and seeing dolphins. It is a magical place.

Classic Musandam DWS action #1: support boat and climber
Tim Emmett, first ascent of Free Diving, The Red Pillar, 2011

Classic Musandam DWS action #2: support boat, snorkeller and climber
Matt Pfeiffer on Free Diving at The Red Pillar, 2011

Classic Musandam DWS action #3: arabian dhow, incomparable scenery
(and Leo aged six, rowing the inflatable, 2006)

Classic Musandam DWS action #4: playing with dolphins, 2011

Sara O"Rourke styling the Barracuda Stack exit, 2011

Classic Musandam DWS action #6: drying chalk bags

The context

I was very privileged to be one of the pioneers of DWS climbing on the Musandam coast and the main chronicler of that activity. Over seven years from 2006, I made numerous first ascents, checked out dozens of cliffs and documented over one hundred routes. More importantly it still conjures great intensity in my memory where other fragments from that period have begun to fade: brisk sea air; cliffs stretching to the horizon but revealing fresh geometries around every corner; fear of falling or jumping into the sea, and relief at surviving the same; rare but precious glimpses of a flow state in which increasing height above water became a perverse pleasure; salt water stinging abraded hands; elated sunburned friends; fishmarket odours at Dibba port; deep exhaustion ahead of long drives home.

Our first forays were a steep learning curve. Unexpected early lessons included not sharing boats with an expat rugby team (!) and not being afraid of large fish (after the first ascent of one stack I realised  I was about to jump ten metres into a shoal of two meter long barracuda).

More generically, we learned to check for actual deep water under our prospective climbs; in some sheltered bays, coral reefs existed just under the low tide mark. Another key insight was not to swim to the cliffs and attempt to pull out of the water. The rock just under the high tide mark was usually razor sharp, with potential for Tarantino'esque injuries. It was almost always better to step off a boat. That in turn necessitated a boatman who understood what we were trying to achieve. On a few worrying occasions, the support boat would linger in the fall zone rather than reverse away to a safe distance.

Choppy seas also rendered boat-to-cliff manoeuvres more serious. We learned not to DWS in the winter, when the Indian Ocean typically had larger swells. Later we also learned not to DWS in the summer either despite the superficial attraction of being at sea during the hottest months - it was just far too humid. April and May is the best time.

Even more evolved beta included carrying a lightweight dry-bag up routes, to enclose shoes and chalk bag before jumping back to the water. Attempting "hard" routes where falls were likely required bringing multiple shoes (and chalk bags) to the cliffs so one had a reasonable chance of having a dry pair for the successful send.

Me, The Original Route, Shark Bay, 2006., rediscovered in 2012
possibly the Musandam coast's first DWS first ascent?

Me and Mike O, exploring the Barracuda Stack, 2006
(The FA of the Pyramid in the background is in the blog here)

Gen's Cave is named for Genevieve, an expat French climber whose birthday coincided with an early exploratory trip. I wasn't on that trip but did check the place out a couple of years later. The unusual feature of the cliff is a sea cave entrance just tall enough for small boats to enter, with a dank hollowed-out "room" behind. That experience is a highlight for tourist boats from Dibba or Zighy Bay.

At the lip of the cave entrance is a good hold. In 2010, I figured out that it could be grabbed from a carefully-piloted boat at the right tide. This move leaves the climber dangling footless above the water but a swift campus move gains a jug rail and then a small ledge about seven metres above the sea. Above the ledge the rock arches outwards in an impressive roof feature for at least another ten metres. I remember making an uncommitted effort to make further progress and falling almost immediately. I forget whether others tried it but certainly no-one got higher.

Me playing on the start of what would become Generation-X, 2010 

Around the same time, my guidebook to UAE climbing, printed at the end of 2009 and including a short chapter on Musandam DWS, had started to spark some interest overseas. One big surprise was an email from Seb Grieve, the Sheffield-based star of the influential 1990s climbing film, Hard Grit. He and a group of friends had got in the habit of making regular expeditions to obscure climbing locations, and he was wondering whether Musandam should be their next destination.

We continued corresponding through the winter of 2010/11, eventually ending up with a plan for Seb and four friends - all at the intimidatingly-famous end of the climber spectrum - to spend a week on a dhow exploring the coast. (Hamad Sajwani, an Emirati climber, played a critical role in negotiating this with a Dibba boatman.) I offered to join as a guide and hoped to get other UAE-based climbers involved, but the cost and time commitment seemed prohibitive for them. At a late stage I remembered Read Macadam, a very strong Canadian climber living in Muscat, who could both represent expat climbers better than me and also spoke Arabic. To my relief, he signed up enthusiastically.

The trip ended up being very memorable for me and I think a good experience for all involved. I could write about it at great length but as that would be a little off-topic I have just posted a few photos below. (The update PDF gives a good flavour of what was climbed.)

Collecting the Brit all-star crew from DXB: Neil, Tim, Mikey, Seb, Grant

Same crew, paying homage to Damian's Boulders, Dibba

Same crew plus Read - third from left - and our boatmen

Same crew, technology break

Some idiot in a kayak© unsure, possibly Neil G

Same idiot, second ascent of One Liner, Big Wall Bay © unsure, possibly Neil G

Mikey on Prohibition, Far North Bays 

Me and Mikey starting FA projects, Platform's Cove © unsure, possibly Neil G

Read, FA of Partheon Slots, 8a, 2011 © unsure, possibly Neil G
The hardest DWS route in the Middle East

Though we travelled the length of the coast up to the Strait of Hormuz, the team found the best potential at Big Wall Bay, about half way up the coast, and at Gen's Cave. I showed the main cave project to Neil Gresham who worked on it for half a day or so, while the rest of the team put up some startingly-tall routes on a sector they named Gogarth East nearby. Neil eventually succeeded, though not before soloing a parallel climb to get above the project from above to get a look at the finishing moves. He graded it 7b+. Tim and Read also repeated it. Neil encouraged me to try. 7b+ was my hardest redpoint grade then, so I didn't fancy my chances. However, aided by Neil's shouted beta and his tickmarks, I surprised myself by getting all the way to the crux at about 13m before falling.

Inevitably I was then obsessed with the route and managed to arrange three more day-trips to the coast in May and June, trying the route four times. Unfortunately I was also struggling with an increasingly-bad shoulder impingement problem. I did not send. On my best attempt I wore a Go-Pro, resulting in this video, in which I talk through all the moves up to my highpoint:



Neil takes the same fall on one of his attempts at 4:18 in this video.

The ascent

The shoulder impingement got better around September 2011 but then morphed into a frozen shoulder problem which took several more months to resolve adequately (eight years on, my left shoulder is still distinctly less mobile than my right). Around March 2012 I was back to approximately my pre-injury shape and had succeeded on a 7b+ sport route. By then I had already committed mentally to leaving the region so I knew that any residual climbing projects would need attention soon. I began thinking again about Generation-X.

I managed to organise a weekend in April on the coast with a good crew of Abu Dhabi and Dubai friends. Helpfully for my motivation, Leo (then 12 years old) also asked if he could join, bringing his soccer pal Benji. At that time Leo was not interested in climbing so their plan was just to goof around, swim, snorkel, etc. On the first day the sea was quite choppy so climbing plans were de-emphasised. At one venue we visited, the boys were mocking some of the adults' hesitancy with cliff-jumps. I told them to shut up or try it themselves .. that challenge resulted in the video below!

Leo and Benji, behaving

Leo and Benji, failed kayak-surf attempt

The next day the sea was calmer. I was extremely anxious not to lose the opportunity so pleaded with the rest of the group that we take the boat straight to Gen's Cave. I recall I also had some theory about catching the moment just after the low-angle morning sun had burned the condensation off the holds. As I was not warmed-up, I assumed my first attempt would be a failure and wore my least technical shoes - a pair of comfy Sportiva Mythos - so as to keep my better shoes dry for subsequent tries.

Unexpectedly, when I touched rock I felt good, especially on the first crux in the middle of the route where I had often fallen. I had only got above there twice before. I took my time at the heelhook rest before launching into the upper crux. On the two previous occasions I had got there, I had failed where you have your right hand in an OK pocket, back arched out above the sea and are reaching blindly for something in a shallow ramp feature beyond with your left hand. For some reason - luck? intuition? stronger core? - on this attempt I managed to search around with my left hand a little longer and found a positive sidepull. Instantly my optimism soared - I knew the route could be possible. I threw my left foot up onto the ramp and came through with my right hand to a good gaston hold. From there it was just a glory road of rattly jugs to the sun-baked low terrain rock above the cave.

When I had got my breath back I yelled down to my friends in the boat: "I am giving up climbing now; it doesn't get any better than this". Obviously I didn't but if there was ever a "quit while you are ahead" moment for me, that was it. A DWS send at your grade limit is pretty special.

Gen-X - opening moves © Alan C
Note the Mythos shoes

Gen-X, first crux © Alan C

Gen-X, main crux © Alan C
Possibly my all-time favourite photo - thanks again Alan

Gen-X, final moves © Alan C

Gen-X, unstylish descent © Alan C

Subsequent ascents

I have not been back on Generation-X. I did manage two more days on the coast before leaving the UAE, adding a few more new routes. On the second of these days we visited Gen's Cave again, where I was interested in trying one of the big routes on the Gogarth East feature. I climbed The Fixer, 6b, maybe 25m high. I had intended to jump from the finishing ledge but lost my nerve. I started down-climbing then had a change of heart and threw myself off spontaneously before I could re-consider. This was an error. The longer than usual flight time confused me and I entered the water with a pronounced forward lean.  When I surfaced, I realised that I could not swim and had to yell to the guys in the boat to haul me out. Back in Abu Dhabi I realised that I had probably broken a rib. I could not climb for another month and by then DWS season was over. A month later I had left the region.

Me on The Fixer, Gogarth East, Gen's Cave, 2012

Musandam climbing got a little more fashionable over the next few years. Oddly the Brits' visit was not the main catalyst, despite articles by Neil and Mikey in two climbing magazines.

In 2013 an all-star North Face/ National Geographic sponsored team (Honnold, Findlay, Chin, Ozturk, etc) explored the coast in a fancy catamaran rented in Muscat. In their social media updates they claimed to be the first to climb on the coast, which irritated a few of us who had pioneered climbing in the region. However I emailed the team a copy of my DWS PDF guide. Their original intent had been to climb big walls above the sea, a bad idea (choss!) from which they could have been dissuaded had they done some prior research. They quietly switched their focus to DWS and Alex Honnold repeated Read's 8a. Mark Synott, the leader of the trip, called me in Squamish on their return to the US, and made a sort-of apology/ thank you. In return, I proof-read the eventual Nat Geo article, which put the record straight and mentioned my guidebook. Hazel also sent me a short account of the routes that they established.

so hot right now #1: some dude called Alex, unknown spot, Musandam, 2013

A few years after that, Read organised a Red Bull Psicobloc event on the coast, focused on Gen's Cave. The legendary Chris Sharma attended. Unsurprisingly he repeated Generation-X (as well as establishing other lines that went undocumented). As far as I know this was the fifth ascent, which makes me smile ... as the ascent list therefore runs: Gresham; Emmett; Macadam; me; Sharma. I don't envisage that happening again in my lifetime!

so hot right now #2: some dude called Sharma, Gen-X fifth (?) ascent, 2017 

the nostalgia project: Echo Beach, UAE (2009)

The route

Echo Beach is a 20m power-endurance sport route on the Azimuth wall of Tawiyan cliff, in the Fujairah emirate of the UAE. The grade is around 7b or 7b+ (YDS 5.12b/c).

Daniel Cieszynski on the second crux of Echo Beach, 2010

The context

As recently as 2006, almost all “UAE rock climbing” was actually in Oman. Border restrictions on the way to the two most popular areas, Wonderwall, and Wadi Bih, east of Ras Al Khaimah, were non-existent. Frustratingly, policy changed abruptly between 2006 and 2010. Wadi Bih, an area with more than a hundred trad routes established over the previous ten years, was worst affected, becoming totally inaccessible, except to GCC citizens. Journey times to several other areas became much longer and forgetting to carry passports could wreck a day out.

An obvious response was to start looking for cliffs wholly within the UAE. In 2007 I received a tip from Alan Stark in the UK, who had acquired an encyclopedic knowledge of the region in the 1990s, to search where Fujairah has a border with the Omani enclave, Musandam. In his time, this was serious off-road territory, but a new black-top road from Khatt to Dibba had changed that. I identified a couple of wadis (canyons) of interest from Google Earth. In May that year, Scott Barber and I made a quick side-trip, while heading to Dibba, finding one of the wadis to be an apocalyptic quarry, but the other, beyond the dusty village of Tawiyan, to be of possible interest.

About a year later, Scott had some time free after a solo shopping trip to the infamous “Barracuda” liquor store in Umm Al Quwain. Rather than return direct to Dubai he drove over to Tawiyan and hiked a couple of kilometers up the wadi. That evening he called excitedly to say that he’d found something special: a 70m overhanging cliff facing north and hidden from anywhere. Scott showed me the location shortly afterwards and very generously encouraged me to start developing routes without him, as he was heading off for a long vacation in the US.

Scott high above Tawiyan wadi, 2008

Tawiyan cliff in 2008, before the bolts

Close-up view of the Azimuth wall

And side-view, looking down the wadi

I began a series of visits, sometimes alone, sometimes with Nick McElwee, portering static ropes and bolting gear a kilometer in 40°C heat. Reaching the shade under the cliff was always a relief and a pleasure. The canyon floor was white gravel, interspersed with giant boulders, like a super-sized Japanese zen garden. As to the climbing, there were so many opportunities that it was hard to know where to start. Progress was slow as everything was harder than we first guessed and the size of the cliff complicated logistics. But it was very exciting to have a whole new cliff to work on; a creative opportunity that I had never had before. The drive from Abu Dhabi took three hours each way. Eventually I would become so committed to Tawiyan development that I would sometimes travel there just for the day.

The area felt very isolated and primitive compared to Dubai or Abu Dhabi. Goat herding was the main livelihood in the village. Early in our explorations we stumbled over a macabre sight: dead animals hung in a tree just outside the town. I took some photos and shared them around the expat community. A little later, someone identified the remains as caracals, presumably trapped and killed to prevent them preying on goats. The population of these bobcat-relatives is endangered in the Arabian peninsula. An article by a conservation-minded journalist about the "Caracal Tree" then appeared in a UAE national newspaper. Unsurprisingly the evidence vanished soon after.

The caracal tree

One of the first projects was the arête running the full height of the cliff in its centre. During October 2008 I left a 100m rope on the line for a few weeks whilst busy. When I returned to make the first ascent I was startled to see most of the rope heaped on a ledge halfway up the cliff and roughly cut where the excess had been piled at the base. It also had been truncated at the top. Whilst finishing the climb, Jebel Jebel, I realized I was being watched from a kilometer away by two goat-herders on the donkey track that passed above the cliff. I wondered if they now owned the missing 30m of rope and – if so – what usage they planned.

We never suffered any other incidents like that and continued plugging away at route development through the autumn. Nick was an especially loyal partner. At New Years Eve in 2008 he had free tickets to see a well-known Columbian singer perform in Abu Dhabi, but instead opted for a weekend at Tawiyan. The route he completed was briefly christened “Don’t Wanna Hear Ya, Shakira” (later changed to the subtler “Laundry Service”).

Over the cooler months, Scott, Nick and I often camped at the mouth of the wadi; a very tranquil spot. But in early 2009 we began to notice signs of change. Marker poles sprouted along the line of the donkey track whilst a labour camp appeared near the village. Initially worried that it signaled yet another quarry excavation, we were relieved to discover that “only” a road was intended.

Pete on the second ascent of the massive Jebel Jebel arete, 6b

Chris Regilski on Scott's classic route Stone Pussy, 6c

Leo and Florence exploring the Tawiyan boulders, watched by Nick, 2008

Florence and Leo, campsite during the initial Tawiyan development days, 2008

As the more obvious easier lines got done, my main focus turned to a leaning wall in the lower centre of the cliff. On a mid-summer visit we were surprised to find this face in the sun, despite its northerly aspect and location deep in the canyon. This was a consequence of the wide solar azimuth angle near the equator at the solstice - a phenomenon that I had not previously appreciated. There seemed to be scope for sustained routes up to 20-30 metres long: a rare characteristic on the Hajar limestone, where rock tends to be vertical and broken by ledges.

I went to work on the most plausible line. Bolting on it was no joke. Accessing the vertical terrain where I wanted the top anchors required a 70m free-hanging rappel off the top of the cliff with several directional bolts to pull the rope in. I completed the bolting in December 2008. The project name was "Echo Beach" from the beginning. The Martha and the Muffins' hit (unquestionably now out of fashion and a trifle uncool) was a feature of my late teens, the base of the route was beach-like and the wadi had a great echo.

The peak season for UAE climbing is mid-winter when temperatures hover around 20°C. From late March onward 35°C and upwards is the norm and hard climbing is much less feasible. For some reason I did not get serious about working the project until late January. This proved to be a mistake. In late February I wrote in the diary: "Several tries on Echo Beach finding severe stamina issues and crux just plain hard." and on Facebook: "Stressed by my project; it is getting too hot to climb ..." Another pressure was my UAE climbing guidebook. I needed to sign off on the manuscript in the summer to be able to get it printed for the 2009/10 winter season. I really wanted to get Echo Beach into the guide.

Working the first crux of Echo Beach in 2009

Higher on the first crux

Working the middle section; classic UAE hazy conditions

The ascent

The route is in two halves, separated by the kind of "good" rest common on overhanging routes:  large jug and decent footholds but no chance of taking the load off your arms entirely. The upper part is pumpy with long reaches and some brief footless action, but is not very technical. I could do that section in isolation from an early stage. The lower part had two hard sections. Awkward undercutting through the steepest section of the route to a small rail feature then a series of deadpoints on slopey pockets to get feet on to the rail and better handholds. This section was my nemesis.

From the beginning of March my regular partners had all become wary of the heat and would no longer go to Tawiyan. I was very lucky at this point to be contacted by Toru, who had just been posted to Abu Dhabi by his Japanese employers. He was so keen to climb that he was prepared to overlook the temperature and knew no better than to come with me to Tawiyan. One session on my home board also demonstrated that he was a stronger climber than me; not unhelpful when there are hard moves to be solved. That said, I forget whether I let him try Echo Beach before I sent. Probably not!

On our first visit I did not send but did get much more solid on a critical drop knee at the crux. From the diary. "Had five tries on Echo Beach failing each time not holding jug above crux sequence. But encouraging that now have crux wired."

Two weeks later I was back: "Tawiyan with Toru on strange thundery almost rainy day. He led Bloody as Hell [a stout 6c+/ 7a] first try having worked two weeks before. I TR'd it as a warmup! Then got Echo Beach first try of the day – an epic ascent. Did the top part in a kind of dreamy detached urgency."

The critical drop knee

The road builders arrive :-(

I don't remember much else about the day except that while Toru took a nap I scrambled out of the canyon and saw exactly how advanced the road work above the cliff had become.

Subsequent ascents

A month after climbing Echo Beach, I visited Tawiyan with Leo to go bouldering. It had rained heavily during the previous two weeks and I was heartbroken to discover that huge quantities of debris from the road building work had been swept into the wadi base. The beautiful white pebbles which had been such a cool feature of the place were buried under a couple of metres of sharp brown junk. Almost all of the boulder problems we had established over the previous year were obscured and all the starts of established routes affected to some extent.

Leo in the Tawiyan wadi, April 2009

Scott in the same location a year before

I dialed back my visits to the cliff over the next year or so, as it was so upsetting to visit, just finishing some lines that I wanted to get into the guide. Notably the spectacular Fujairah Spaceport on the left hand side of the cliff, which I somehow led mid-summer in 40°C heat and 15% humidity, dry-heaving above the crux from the effort.

Classic UAE summer climbing conditions!

Matt Pfeiffer on Fujairah Spaceport, 7a+

After the guidebook was published, Tawiyan got quite popular, for all the reasons that had made it worth developing in the first place: quick access from Dubai, no border issues, good routes. This encouraged me to resume visits, sometimes bringing a very young James with me. While there, I redpointed Echo Beach at least another four times, including two laps on one day. Some friends shot video of one of those ascents, embedded here (yes, it was windy that day).

Three year old James at Tawiyan, 2011

Overall my time at Tawiyan - almost fifty days in total - was a highlight of my stay in the UAE. But also an education in impermanence and the emotional risk of getting too attached to places over which you have no control.