Last week I managed to sneak out to Hunter's Stones between rain showers and do the classic "Hunter's Roof". What a brilliant problem, I've never climbed anything like it in my life, double heel-hooks, double guppies, obligatory campusing, it's got it all! Here's a video:
Two Barden 7Cs, Hunter's Roof and McNab Sit. from Jacob Cook on Vimeo.
Frustratingly I seem to have a bit of a finger injury, which has prevented me from getting as much training done as I would have liked. Instead of training I decided to finally sift through some footage that's been sitting on my computer for ages.
Here's a video of some Yorkshire classic highballs and trad routes:
Some Yorkshire Sketching from Jacob Cook on Vimeo.
Sunday, 9 February 2014
Thursday, 16 January 2014
And now for something completely different...
The alarm went off and I felt as though I'd barely closed my eyes for a second. As I adjusted my balaclava and fitted my goggles I made sure not not to leave any exposed skin before stepping outside. It was -25°C, significantly warmer than the last few days, the sun was yet to rise.
A mere week before I'd never had a pair of skis on in my life but here I was shouldering a heavy bag setting out for a two day, 25km back country ski across a frozen lake. It was cold. Headlines in England described conditions in Canada as a "Polar Vortex", giving rise to some of the coldest temperatures on record. The previous morning the thermometer outside our cabin had confirmed this, registering a frigid -46°C. This meant we had decided to wait another day before setting off.
Skiing across the lake was not what I'd imagined skiing would be like. Rather than gracefully gliding over the surface with minimal effort, it involved what I can only describe as trudging, with long awkward pointy things attached to my feet. The four of us took it in turns breaking trail in the knee deep snow.
By mid afternoon we had skied just under halfway, we stopped to build "Quincy". A type of snow cave which Bron seemed convinced would keep us alive and (dare I say it) even warm during that night. The way they supposedly work is to have a raised platform inside that is above the level of the entrance, this allows bodies inside to warm up the air without the heat escaping. It sounded unlikely.
To my amazement I woke up the next morning still alive! However as I slithered out the door my heart sank, I was met by a full on blizzard, howling winds and a near total whiteout on the lake. Quite a scary place to be as we had no means of contacting anyone or calling for help and thus no option but to make it the remaining 13km to Temagami, the town at the end of the lake. Luckily we had a GPS allowing us to navigate during the whiteout. Skiing through the now waist deep snow drifts in the blizzard felt like being on another planet. My eyes were freezing shut whenever I removed my goggles. My water bottle was tucked firmly inside my crotch to avoid freezing.
In winter the lake freezes so solid that they plow a road a couple of kilometers over the ice from the mainland to "Bear Island". Deeply exhausted and with frost nibbled extremities we staggered onto this as it was getting dark on our second day. God knows how people do extended winter camping trips!
A mere week before I'd never had a pair of skis on in my life but here I was shouldering a heavy bag setting out for a two day, 25km back country ski across a frozen lake. It was cold. Headlines in England described conditions in Canada as a "Polar Vortex", giving rise to some of the coldest temperatures on record. The previous morning the thermometer outside our cabin had confirmed this, registering a frigid -46°C. This meant we had decided to wait another day before setting off.
Skiing across the lake was not what I'd imagined skiing would be like. Rather than gracefully gliding over the surface with minimal effort, it involved what I can only describe as trudging, with long awkward pointy things attached to my feet. The four of us took it in turns breaking trail in the knee deep snow.
By mid afternoon we had skied just under halfway, we stopped to build "Quincy". A type of snow cave which Bron seemed convinced would keep us alive and (dare I say it) even warm during that night. The way they supposedly work is to have a raised platform inside that is above the level of the entrance, this allows bodies inside to warm up the air without the heat escaping. It sounded unlikely.
To my amazement I woke up the next morning still alive! However as I slithered out the door my heart sank, I was met by a full on blizzard, howling winds and a near total whiteout on the lake. Quite a scary place to be as we had no means of contacting anyone or calling for help and thus no option but to make it the remaining 13km to Temagami, the town at the end of the lake. Luckily we had a GPS allowing us to navigate during the whiteout. Skiing through the now waist deep snow drifts in the blizzard felt like being on another planet. My eyes were freezing shut whenever I removed my goggles. My water bottle was tucked firmly inside my crotch to avoid freezing.
In winter the lake freezes so solid that they plow a road a couple of kilometers over the ice from the mainland to "Bear Island". Deeply exhausted and with frost nibbled extremities we staggered onto this as it was getting dark on our second day. God knows how people do extended winter camping trips!
Friday, 6 December 2013
The New Statesman
Firstly I'm really psyched to announce I've joined the Edelweiss UK team, they've been quietly making the best quality ropes for years and it will be great to be able to get out climbing on them.
Second, my ascent of the New Statesman at Ilkley last month has been made into a film by my housemate Kevin Fenemore who is the man behind Abstract Normality Media:
Jacob Cook climbing The New Statesman, E8 7A from Abstract Normality on Vimeo.
I haven't blogged about this ascent yet because I've been waiting for the video to be ready.
Jordan Buys kindly posted an interview with me about the New Statesman on his blog, rather than writing a lot about the route I thought it might be most interesting if I just posted that interview here:
Jordan: How old are you, where are you living?
I’m 25 and I’ve been living in Leeds for the last two years.
Over the summer I took the next step into adventurous climbing by going big walling off the west coast of Greenland. To be honest in terms of big walling I feel remarkably similar to myself 4 years ago starting to trad climb. But I’m really keen to put the time in and learn the tricks of the trade; Yosemite here I come. More big wall first ascents in adventurous locations is the dream.
Can you describe The New Statesman in three words?
A trickle of bird poo actually served as a tickmark on the thank god jug near the top!
How many times did you watch Neil Bentley on Hard Grit to get motivated?
Many, many times! It wasn’t until I actually tried the route for myself that I realised just how bad his sequence actually was!
Did you wear your lucky underpants that day?
I wasn’t expecting to lead it that day because it was only my second session and I’d gotten spanked on my first. Luckily all of my underpants are tie-dyed anyway…
Have you any designs on other grit routes in Yorkshire?
Second, my ascent of the New Statesman at Ilkley last month has been made into a film by my housemate Kevin Fenemore who is the man behind Abstract Normality Media:
Jacob Cook climbing The New Statesman, E8 7A from Abstract Normality on Vimeo.
I haven't blogged about this ascent yet because I've been waiting for the video to be ready.
Jordan Buys kindly posted an interview with me about the New Statesman on his blog, rather than writing a lot about the route I thought it might be most interesting if I just posted that interview here:
Jordan: How old are you, where are you living?
I’m 25 and I’ve been living in Leeds for the last two years.
Can you give us a brief summary of your climbing life so far, highlights etc?
I started climbing aged 7 in London, but something happened 4 years
ago whilst I was living in Oxford and I became extremely psyched, I
haven’t looked back since. Over the past few years I’ve undergone a bit
of an apprenticeship into hard adventurous trad in the UK. Going from
having no idea what I was doing and all my gear falling out, to
repeating a bunch of trad test pieces onsight or from the ground up.
Routes like Lord of the Flies, Ghost Train, Masters Edge, Positron etc.
My climbing highlight so far was probably doing the E8 Point Blank in
Pembroke ground up over a couple of sessions, a process involving some
20m lobs!Over the summer I took the next step into adventurous climbing by going big walling off the west coast of Greenland. To be honest in terms of big walling I feel remarkably similar to myself 4 years ago starting to trad climb. But I’m really keen to put the time in and learn the tricks of the trade; Yosemite here I come. More big wall first ascents in adventurous locations is the dream.
Can you describe The New Statesman in three words?
Spicy Arete Burger.
Did you find it easy, scary or full of bird poo?
I got completely shut down on my first session and
thought I’d probably never do it. Amazingly on my second session I found
some new beta and was able to top rope the route in a one-er, it seemed
a shame not to go for it there and then! I was very scared, it was the
first time I’d ever really headpointed a grit route (or any route!) so
the whole process was a bit new to meA trickle of bird poo actually served as a tickmark on the thank god jug near the top!
Why did you get on it in the first place?
It’s been on my mind that I had to try it ever since I moved to Leeds, such a good line and it’s only half an hour from my house! Also I’d been watching Neil Bentley on it in hard grit for the last 15 years.
It’s been on my mind that I had to try it ever since I moved to Leeds, such a good line and it’s only half an hour from my house! Also I’d been watching Neil Bentley on it in hard grit for the last 15 years.
How many times did you watch Neil Bentley on Hard Grit to get motivated?
Do you rate the new cafe at the crag?
3 quid for a coffee?! It’s a disgrace…
Did you wear your lucky underpants that day?
I wasn’t expecting to lead it that day because it was only my second session and I’d gotten spanked on my first. Luckily all of my underpants are tie-dyed anyway…
Have you any designs on other grit routes in Yorkshire?
Yes! All of them. Right now I’m pretty psyched about Ilkley, my
mission is to climb all the routes there. I recently did Cindy Crawford,
Desperate Dan and Guillotine. Next up are Snap Decision and Milky Way, I
may even have a play on Loaded; who knows, maybe I can lank my way past
the crux on that one too! Unfortunately this may mean I finally have to
do Botterill’s Crack as well, grim.
Monday, 2 December 2013
Desperate Dan and Guillotine
We had a great day up at Ilkley last week, finally putting the Grove Gardens pad stash to good use.
After warming up on Bernie the Bolt, a great highball 7B+. I managed a ground up ascent of the precarious Desperate Dan, E6 6b, and a headpoint of the chillingly bold Guillotine, also E6 6b. Rather than waffling about the climbs I'll just put the video up, here it is!
Desperate Dan and Guillotine, two E6s at Ilkley from Jacob Cook on Vimeo.
I think I'm starting to feel in the zone on the grit now. Last weekend I managed a lifetime ambition by making a ground up ascent of Ullysses Bow at Stanage, pads or no it was still bloody scary :p. No video of that one though.
After warming up on Bernie the Bolt, a great highball 7B+. I managed a ground up ascent of the precarious Desperate Dan, E6 6b, and a headpoint of the chillingly bold Guillotine, also E6 6b. Rather than waffling about the climbs I'll just put the video up, here it is!
Desperate Dan and Guillotine, two E6s at Ilkley from Jacob Cook on Vimeo.
I think I'm starting to feel in the zone on the grit now. Last weekend I managed a lifetime ambition by making a ground up ascent of Ullysses Bow at Stanage, pads or no it was still bloody scary :p. No video of that one though.
Monday, 18 November 2013
Cindy Crawford
After staying out until 4 in the morning the night before and having to eat my breakfast in the car on the way to the crag, I didn't have high hopes for my day at Ilkley. Josh and I had decided to have a go at Cindy Crawford. This John Dunne test piece blasts straight out the extremely steep valley face of the calf boulder and tops out at a dizzying 7 or 8 meters. The grade is around E7 or font 7C depending on which system you would prefer to use. Luckily we were able to stuff more pads into the back of Josh's two door Toyota Yaris than you might think!
It's a bit of a strange one because after Big John did it way back in 2000, it lay unrepeated for 13 years until Dave Sutcliffe ground upped it earlier this year. I have absolutely no idea why it's seen so little attention; it's a sweet line and well within the capabilities of quite a lot of climbers in the UK at the moment.
Out of nowhere I managed to flash the line, thus making the third ascent after John Dunne and Dave Sutcliffe.
It was one of those rare moments in climbing where everything falls into place and hard moves feel effortless. I wasn't concentrating on anything really, how high I was off the ground, how small the holds were, exactly what sequence I was going to use, success, failure... It all just faded into the background. Until everything flashed back to reality and I was cutting loose with my right hand holding a green sloper on the lip of the boulder. Deep breaths. Take it easy. Over the top. A perfect climbing experience.
I remember reading a Johnny Dawes quote somewhere about how you can climb every day for a year and only get a couple of moments like that. I think I'd agree with him.
Still feeling warm and psyched I decided to try and repeat it five minutes later, this time with the cameras out:
Cindy Crawford from Jacob Cook on Vimeo.
And some more photos...
It's a bit of a strange one because after Big John did it way back in 2000, it lay unrepeated for 13 years until Dave Sutcliffe ground upped it earlier this year. I have absolutely no idea why it's seen so little attention; it's a sweet line and well within the capabilities of quite a lot of climbers in the UK at the moment.
Out of nowhere I managed to flash the line, thus making the third ascent after John Dunne and Dave Sutcliffe.
I remember reading a Johnny Dawes quote somewhere about how you can climb every day for a year and only get a couple of moments like that. I think I'd agree with him.
Still feeling warm and psyched I decided to try and repeat it five minutes later, this time with the cameras out:
Cindy Crawford from Jacob Cook on Vimeo.
And some more photos...
Tuesday, 8 October 2013
The Knifeblade
Tom and Ian had spotted an incredible looking knife blade feature from the boat. It looked like it might go, following the line of an enormous corner system and then moving right near the top under some capping roofs.
Pete, Ian and myself were dropped off at the base at 4pm. The wall being North facing meant it got a total of about 3 hours of sun between the hours of 1am and 4am!
We scrambled up on the left and were able to gain a half height ledge system which took us back right and deposited us at the start of the corner. We began to climb through the night.
As the sun blinked onto the face at 1am I was leading an exposed pitch out on an arete, linking two crack systems via some airy face climbing.
A few hours later I was at the end of the crack system under the capping roof at the top of the corner. The rock around me had begun to sport deep white scars indicating fresh rockfall and ledges were filled with gravel and dust, it was not somewhere I wanted to be for long. I knew that all I had to do was traverse about 30m to the right and we would be out on the easier angled "Knife edge" and could run up this to the summit. I placed a runner as high as I could and set off.
A balancy traverse 10m to the right gained a resting niche, but still no gear!
A further 10m traverse without a single good runner put me in a bit of a ridiculous position. I was now facing an enormous pendulum back into the corner. But I didn't fancy attempting to reverse and I knew that if I wasn't able to reach the arete our attempt was over and we'd have to go down.
It was a truly wild place to be, one of those times where you learn how you really cope under pressure.
Somehow I arrived at a belay and Ian and Pete figured out some elaborate ropework to allow them to follow the traverse without facing the prospect of the monster pendulum.
Sure enough we were able to scamper up the arete to the summit.
It felt great to be the first people ever to stand on top of such an inspiring feature and a fantastic way to end the trip. It was also cool because we could see for miles, all of our climbs from the trip were layed out before us. Ikeresak mountain in the foreground which Pete and I had climbed the week before, Uumannaq mountain in the distance where we had put up "Islands in the sky" and even, way off on the horizon, the entrance to the fjord containing the Horn.
The knifeblade actually connected to the mainland at the top via a thin bridge of land. We opted for what turned out to be a 7 hour hike off the back rather than abseil back the way we had come up.
We named our route "That Sinking Feeling", in honour of how proud we were to have gone the whole expedition without sinking the boat even once! It went at around E5 5c.
On the way down we found some Antlers!
We scrambled up on the left and were able to gain a half height ledge system which took us back right and deposited us at the start of the corner. We began to climb through the night.
As the sun blinked onto the face at 1am I was leading an exposed pitch out on an arete, linking two crack systems via some airy face climbing.
A few hours later I was at the end of the crack system under the capping roof at the top of the corner. The rock around me had begun to sport deep white scars indicating fresh rockfall and ledges were filled with gravel and dust, it was not somewhere I wanted to be for long. I knew that all I had to do was traverse about 30m to the right and we would be out on the easier angled "Knife edge" and could run up this to the summit. I placed a runner as high as I could and set off.
A balancy traverse 10m to the right gained a resting niche, but still no gear!
A further 10m traverse without a single good runner put me in a bit of a ridiculous position. I was now facing an enormous pendulum back into the corner. But I didn't fancy attempting to reverse and I knew that if I wasn't able to reach the arete our attempt was over and we'd have to go down.
It was a truly wild place to be, one of those times where you learn how you really cope under pressure.
 |
| Looking up at the crux pitch; scary territory |
Sure enough we were able to scamper up the arete to the summit.
It felt great to be the first people ever to stand on top of such an inspiring feature and a fantastic way to end the trip. It was also cool because we could see for miles, all of our climbs from the trip were layed out before us. Ikeresak mountain in the foreground which Pete and I had climbed the week before, Uumannaq mountain in the distance where we had put up "Islands in the sky" and even, way off on the horizon, the entrance to the fjord containing the Horn.
The knifeblade actually connected to the mainland at the top via a thin bridge of land. We opted for what turned out to be a 7 hour hike off the back rather than abseil back the way we had come up.
We named our route "That Sinking Feeling", in honour of how proud we were to have gone the whole expedition without sinking the boat even once! It went at around E5 5c.
 |
| A Topo of the line. |
 |
| At the end of a 6 week trip, Peter was feeling pretty horny... |
Thursday, 3 October 2013
Islands in the Sky
The North summit of Uumannaqq mountain in West Greenalnd is guarded by a 400m smooth pillar of vertical granite. As Tom, Pete and I ascended the steep scree gully to reach the pillar I was feeling way out of my depth.
Being in a big mountain environment in such a remote location was something I had very little experience with. I just didn't know if the massive perched blocks at the top of the scree gully were going to start rumbling down towards us. Tom and Pete seemed to be pretty happy with our situation, laughing and joking as we approached the route. I kept my fears to myself, happy to trust their experience of the terrain.
As we racked up at the base of the pillar cloud formations swirled above, below and around us. One moment we were surrounded by a thick fog, the next we could see for miles; islands, mountains and icebergs appeared momentarily before being whisked from sight by the ever changing cloudscape. It felt atmospheric and otherworldly.
We started up a promising looking dihedral, which since we couldn't see more than about twenty meters up the face seemed as good a place to start as any!
Weirdly once we started actually climbing my fear subsided and I felt back on familiar ground. It surprised me how much feeling scared on the mountain came down to a lack of familiarity with the terrain. I would love to get to the stage where I feel at home in any kind of mountainous environment.
We climbed 5 great pitches on immaculate rock to reach a resting ledge, above this a left trending overlap feature was the obvious way to go. It also looked desperate! I fought my way up an unrelenting 60m pitch of fingerjams and tenuous laybacks. I placed every single runner I had and did a fair bit of shouting! A truly incredible pitch.
I gave the pitch hard E4 6a, reminiscent of something like Resurrection at Dinas Cromlech, although in hindsight it was such a battle that it could well have been E5. Tom and Pete used a variety of techniques (and ascending devices!) to join me at the hanging belay.
I am pretty sure we were the second team to reach this summit, after George Ullrich and Matt Burdekin made the first ascent of their route Broken Toblerone in 2010. There is without doubt a whole load more lines to be done on this incredible face. We took some summit photos (decked out in our matching and extremely warm RAB jackets!) and got back to camp for a late dinner at 6am after more than 20 hours on the go. I could get used to this 24 hour daylight business!
Being in a big mountain environment in such a remote location was something I had very little experience with. I just didn't know if the massive perched blocks at the top of the scree gully were going to start rumbling down towards us. Tom and Pete seemed to be pretty happy with our situation, laughing and joking as we approached the route. I kept my fears to myself, happy to trust their experience of the terrain.
As we racked up at the base of the pillar cloud formations swirled above, below and around us. One moment we were surrounded by a thick fog, the next we could see for miles; islands, mountains and icebergs appeared momentarily before being whisked from sight by the ever changing cloudscape. It felt atmospheric and otherworldly.
We started up a promising looking dihedral, which since we couldn't see more than about twenty meters up the face seemed as good a place to start as any!
Weirdly once we started actually climbing my fear subsided and I felt back on familiar ground. It surprised me how much feeling scared on the mountain came down to a lack of familiarity with the terrain. I would love to get to the stage where I feel at home in any kind of mountainous environment.
We climbed 5 great pitches on immaculate rock to reach a resting ledge, above this a left trending overlap feature was the obvious way to go. It also looked desperate! I fought my way up an unrelenting 60m pitch of fingerjams and tenuous laybacks. I placed every single runner I had and did a fair bit of shouting! A truly incredible pitch.
I gave the pitch hard E4 6a, reminiscent of something like Resurrection at Dinas Cromlech, although in hindsight it was such a battle that it could well have been E5. Tom and Pete used a variety of techniques (and ascending devices!) to join me at the hanging belay.
After several more tricky and varied pitches we reached the top at the stroke of midnight. We decided to call our route Islands in the Sky after the epic cloud formations which continued the whole time we were climbing.
I am pretty sure we were the second team to reach this summit, after George Ullrich and Matt Burdekin made the first ascent of their route Broken Toblerone in 2010. There is without doubt a whole load more lines to be done on this incredible face. We took some summit photos (decked out in our matching and extremely warm RAB jackets!) and got back to camp for a late dinner at 6am after more than 20 hours on the go. I could get used to this 24 hour daylight business!
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