Goadby - fig of 8 via Noseley and Rolleston

Led by me, with Maureen, Barry, Gordon and Eddie. Chilly - even some light snow at the start. One glimpse of the sun in the last half-mile. Underfoot mainly firm, but with muddy patches. Just about 9 miles in all.




We take the minor road towards Glooston and follow it as far as Glooston Lodge Farm with it sign warning of "free range children and animals". we turn right next to a big barn where a farmer is transporting bales of hay to feed the cows which are still indoors this year.



The path is clear, for a while, then goes uphill across a field, where we aim for the pylons, and then the waymarker to our right. At this point we find ourselves a little too far over to the left , and have to retrace our steps along the stream to find the footbridge.



After this it's more or less a case of following the waymarkers, through the edge of Noseley Wood, and then through fields to a metalled track, and across a couple more fields to the road. There's still snow around, and mud or water under a covering of ice at many of the gates.

















When we reach the road we turn right and pass the fine gates and drive to Noseley Hall - there's a sign to the cookery school which is run there.












We follow the road past the right turn to Goadby, and turn left along a footpath between hedges leading uphill. The wind's pretty fierce, but we cross another field into some more woodland and find a sheltered spot for a break. Our path continues until we meet a clear track which takes us past Rolleston Lake.









We carry on for another quarter of a mile or so to Rolleston Hall and church.











Back along the same route, past Goldsmith's cottage, until we meet the footpath to Tugby. This goes alongside Pop's spinney, through a field where the farmer has just brought some sheep and lambs. We follow the yellow posts towards Tugby, but turn right before we reach the village. Our way lies past Lake House Farm, and out to the road from Tugby. We take the road directly opposite the footpath, which leads us along a gentle flat half mile or so back to Goadby.

Hellebore flowering by the roadside in Goadby

Some history of Rolleston Hall and the church

Happy Ground Hog day! Kinzua klimbing and A day at the Cliffs

Wow... Its looking miserable outside today. Yesterday we had temps in the mid 30's and rain. The forcast was calling for a couple mild days this week. Well mild was an understatement for the start of today. I went out on the deck and it felt like spring. Sunny and 45°. The Weather channel is saying the temps are going to fall into the mid 20's and that it'll be snowing by this afternoon. I sure hope they're right. The last 48hrs most likely put a hurting on the mixed lines I've been working on as well as the ice routes I've been patiently waiting to see come into shape. I'm keeping my fingers crossed. I'll try to head out tomorrow to scope the damages. I'm sure a fresh coating of snow will make things feels wintry again. If winter comes to a screeching halt we can all blame that HOG up in Punxy for not seeing his shadow. Well enough about the weather. On to our recent climbing adventures.

The dam located directly across from the climbing

Friday Jan. 28thLaura and I decided to take a short road trip up to Kinzua to climb. The climbing there is mostly casual with WI3 being the common grade. Usually its a great place for beginning leaders to cut their teeth on the sharp end. It was the location of my first ice climbing experience about 14 years ago. I've been at it ever since that first outing. In that respect Kinzua will always be a memorable place for me to visit. Laura had never been there, so we loaded up the climbingmobile and set off at 6:00am friday for the 3.5hr drive north. The drive went smooth considering the snow storm we drove in most of the way. Upon arrival, I was slightly disappointed to see the ice much thinner than what I had climbed in years past. I havn't been there in quite a few years, but every other tip I've made to Kinzua has provided FAT,blue flows. It was a real bummer since the trip was mostly for Laura to get in a bunch of time leading. Instead we pondered over which line was filled in most of the way. I could see rock through the clear ice as well as hear large amounts of running water. Seeing the ice in this current state, I decided to take the lead and check things out before Laura went up. I climbed the line directly across from the Entrance to the first parking lot. Its generally a low angle steeped WI3 with great protection. It took some searching to get in a few 13cm screws that were actually going to do something. As I climbed I could look down into the large holes and see the rock and water underneath. I reached to top and setup the belay to bring Laura up to the trees. She climbed up using her new BD Fusion ice tools. It wasn't much of a route to put them to use on, but she seemed to like them. I brought along some 8mm cord and rap rings to contribute to the local climbing community based on a post on NEice.com about the anchors being ratty and in need of replacement. I set up a station on a large tree up and left of the top out. Heres a photo of the new station and the climb.

Our first climb. Unusually thin compared to what I've typically seen here

Laura coming up the first climb we did

Laura seconding with trucks rumbling below.

Notice our car in the lot? Worlds easiest approach!

Our second climb was to the right of the first one. It was in the little alcove. It went up the low angle start and up to a short pillar. The ice on this route was better up on the pillar, but the bottom was still somewhat hollow and not well formed. I took the line over right above the exposed rock section and belayed/rapped from there.

Laura tooling on the second climb we did.

(The steepest we could find)

Coming up onto the belay of the 2nd climb

Well it only took two climbs and we decided to head back home to better conditions. We'll have to make another trip someday when things are more "in". All in all it was a nice quick revisit the moderates of Kinzua. will I do it again this season? Most likely not with the way conditions have been at home. There's always next season!





Sunday Jan. 30th. Laura was out for the day and I made plans with Dr. Bob to climb at the cliffs. Joel and Matt were already in town and were staying in Ohiopyle. They climbed Saturday at Upper Meadow where I guess quite a display of climbing went on. I wasn't there, but it sounded good. Anyhow... Sunday morning came and I drove to the parking area of the cliffs. It was snowed in and I did some shoveling to make parking better for those involved in the days antics. I was getting ready to hike in when Dr. Bob showed up. We split the ropes and made our way in. Dr. Bob is one of my oldest ice climbing friends. Due to life, etc. I haven't had the opportunity to spend much time on the rope with him recently as I have in the past. Bob and I decided to warm up on Called on Account of Security WI4. It was in great shape. A little new snow and some onion skin made climbing a little more interesting, but all in all it was in the best conditions I've ever seen. I led the pitch and belayed Bob from the top to shoot some pics on my new camera. Here are a few of the shots.

Dr Bob coming up Called on Account of Security WI4

Dr Bob doing work!

For our second route we decided to climb G-Gully WI4+/5- It was one of the driest routes we saw. The climb went well. It was much better than last season when we did the FFA. Bob commented many times how he enjoyed the 3D climbing that the route offered. Here's a few shots of Bob cleaning.

Bob cleaning G-Gully WI4+

Joel and Matt showed up a little later than expected. They had spend the evening before getting familiarized with life in Ohiopyle. Here's a photo of Joel upon arrival at the cliffs. Needless to say there's not much to report on their activities of the day. Matt was the lone climber taking a lap on G-Gully before hiking out.

Feeling a little fuzzy Joel?

Overall there was a lot of running water and things were building fast. The Beast WI5+ was in the process of making a rare appearance. Albeit with massive amounts of water flowing down it. I hope the weather didn't take too much of a toll on it.

The Beast about touching down for the 2nd year in a row!

On the last day of season (last year), Laura and I went on an early morning mission to climb it before the day warmed to well above freezing, but were turned back by the stupidity of forgetting our ropes. It WAS just about ready for the 2nd time in 5 or 6 years... Until today's rain. With any luck the it will be climbable and I'll finally get to climb it. If not there's still lots of mixed climbs out there begging to be climbed. We'll see what the weekend holds.

Overall conditions photo from Sunday

Competition

Although I’ve spent my whole adult life involved in sport, I still have big reservations about large parts of it. I’ve read a lot of work on the history and philosophy of sport, and to be perfectly honest, a good chunk of it makes for depressing reading. I wish more of it could be more like the way it’s supposed to be.




The fact that climbing on mountains and cliffs is hard to pin down, hard to reduce to numbers and results and competition was quite an important aspect of what drew me into it. It’s hard to say ‘I had a better adventure than you’. Even as a climbing coach, I’ve sometimes been uneasy seeing young climbers come up against some of these negatives. Sometimes I wonder if I should say ‘skip the comp this time’. Go and explore somewhere new with some friends and come back for the next comp. As well as providing the essential ability to see outside the bubble of the scene, the perspective might well make a better competitor in the long run.









Kev pointed to this picture on Facebook, of a Basque athlete helping a Kenyan who’d stopped running a few metres short of the finish line in a cross country event, thinking he’d already passed it. The Basque runner could have run right past and won the race. But he stopped to direct the Kenyan over the line, staying behind and keeping the place he would have got if the Kenyan hadn’t made a simple human error. The surprising thing for me was that the attention this story got was as a ‘rare’ piece of sportsmanship. Why shouldn’t it be the norm?




After getting my ankle surgery in November, I decided to enter a running race for the first time, and see how it went. I thought it would be good as a goal to help get me back on my feet and moving fast in the mountains again. I entered the West Highland Way Race for next June. Although I have done quite a lot of hill running at different times over the past year or two, like anyone getting involved in a new scene I was a bit nervous about how welcoming it would be to someone who is known as ‘a climber’. Yesterday a friend told me about this thread started about my entry, which was a bit of a downer. When I experienced this sort of thing as a teenager doing sport at school, I hated it, avoided it and eventually found it’s antidote in going climbing. This time round I don’t need to react like that. But if I am able to recover from my injury enough to do it, it will be weird to stand on the start line knowing I’m standing with others who feel I don’t deserve to be there. My slowly healing ankle joint is the only thing that would stop me earning a place. As I said on the thread, if anyone feels I really don’t deserve the chance as much as them, drop me a line and I’ll offer to withdraw and donate my place.

Ladies Leading Double Lives: Sport vs Transport

Just as I have been experimenting with road cycling in parallel to using my bicycle for transportation, so have several other ladies with prominent bicycle blogs.



[image via Simply Bike]

S. from Simply Bike normally looks like this when she cycles. But above she is pictures riding across Iowa while taking part in RAGBRAI. This was her first time on a roadbike!

[image via Adrienne Johnson]

Adrienne Johnson of Velo Voguedons bike shorts and a (surprisingly attractive) jersey as she cycles in the Marin Century.



[image via Meligrosa]

And here is Meligrosa, of Change Your Life Ride a Bike, whodoes not allow a mere 100 miles get between her and her Style (yes, with a capital S!).

[image via Suburban Bike Mama]

One of my favourite sporty cycling pictures is this one of Vee from Suburban Bike Mama, who normally rides a cargo trike, completing a triathlon last summer.

[image via Chic Cyclist]

Of course the queen of the velo double life is Charlotte,of Chic Cyclists - who is as comfortable cycling to work on her upright city bicycle, as she is touring around France on her roadbike.Sigrid of My Hyggeligsimilarly alternates between her Pashley Princess and her Trek roadbike. And Justine, of Midlife Cycling, cruises around New York City on her mixte and takes regular roadtrips to neighboring states.

Over the past year I have noticed an increasing number of women who, after growing comfortable riding an upright bicycle for transportation, have begun to venture into sportier cycling, including club rides and touring. Being in this category myself, I have wondered whether this is a natural progression that will "stick," or whether it's the novelty of the bicycle that compels us to seek out different ways of using it in our lives. And if the latter, will we tire of it once the novelty wears off? I also find it ironic that, after having cited "seeing roadies wearing special clothing" as a major reason why we were turned off from cycling in our pre-bike days, many of us are now inching into that category ourselves. Not ironic as in "bad" or that I am critical of it, but ironic as in "something to think about".

I am still not sure what I think about it myself. I have been spending a lot of time on my roadbikes (yes, plural now!) this summer, but I am conflicted in my attitude about this type of cycling. Since the start of summer, I have been flirting with the idea of joining some women's training rides that are offered to the public by a local cycling team. Given their criteria for minimum speed and skill level, I qualify. I have thought about it countless time, but have not joined - and the summer is nearly over. Maybe it's my general dislike of teams, authority, and group activities, or maybe I just don't want to admit that I am now that kind of cyclist. But am I? Maybe I should give it some time and see if it "sticks".

On Beginners Helping Beginners and the Paradox of Expertise

[image via Thomas Hawk]

It's been over two years now since I began cycling as an adult and writing this blog, and I still think of myself as a novice: Two years isn't much. Looking at some of the other female-authored cycling blogs that appeared around the same time as mine,I see a similar pattern: The authors start the blog not to give advice, but to share their experiences as eager, clueless beginners. And over time they become more knowledgeable - helping their readers along the way just as much as their readers help them.



This approach tends to evoke polarised reactions. On the one hand, I've noticed that beginners - and particularly female readers who are just getting into cycling - respond to blogs written by other beginners more than they do to blogs written by experts. On the other hand, there is a great deal of scorn aimed at such blogs in some internet circles - mainly on male-dominated cycling forums. The other day I received a link to a venomous thread where the forum members basically take turns quoting snippets from my posts and mocking my writing. It might have upset me, if I hadn't witnessed a near-identical thread attacking another woman's blog on a different cycling forum several months earlier.The bashing we get from these guys is predictable: We are silly, we are consumerist, we know nothing about cycling yet presume to advise others, and our writing is annoying. Whether they have a point is not for me to judge, and it's useless to defend myself against grown men who get off on mocking other human beings. But I'd like to explore the question of why a beginner's writing about cycling can be more compelling to some audiences than that of an expert.



[image via acme59]

Beginners are enthusiastic.

When we are in the process of learning about something new that excites us, we tend to be more interested in that thing than once we already know everything there is to know about it. The eagerness to learn is what drives us to research and experiment, and then to share our discoveries with others. Once the learning is done, that eagerness subsides and we become less motivated to discuss the topic. We become jaded, we know it all. Why bother write about something that is old news to us? Enthusiasm is contagious, and so is jadedness. That is why a beginner's blog - that gushes about things that seem boring or even silly to experts - is more engaging for those who are trying to learn about the same topic.



[image via simplybike]

Beginners offer documentation.

Blogs written by novices are a bit like note-taking sessions made public. When was the last time you felt compelled to take notes on a process you already knew by heart? There is no motivation for it. Doing things like taking pictures of yourself on your bicycle and describing short rides in elaborate detail seems ridiculous to someone who has done it all thousands of times. But to those for whom cycling is a learning process, documentation is helpful. Novice readers seek out blogs that provide detailed documentation, and those blogs are usually written by other novices, precisely because experts wouldn't bother.



[image via mtwash125]

Beginners are more relatable to other beginners.

Today's post from Dottie on Let's Go Ride a Bike provides some great insight into this one. Dottie describes a commute to work that to her was "just perfect," yet to a novice cyclist was an absolute nightmare. It was a funny discrepancy, but also a telling one. After several years of cycling for transportation, we no longer even notice things like exhaust fumes, vehicles blocking the bike lane, car doors suddenly swinging open into our path, and cars cutting us off. Our methods of dealing with these problems become so automatised that we take them in stride: Overall, it is still a great commute, because nothing unusuallyhorrible has happened. But to beginners who are just mustering up the courage to cycle for transportation, other cyclists are no longer relatable once they reach that level of comfort. And this goes for everything - from transportation cycling, to roadcycling skills, to understanding frame geometry, to being able to work on our own bikes. Little by little, we begin to take stuff for granted and stop bothering to explain it, losing the readers who find our very ineptitude relatable. Paradoxically, while experts know more, they also come across as less approachable and they often write about things in a way that is difficult for non-experts to understand.



[image via Bart Omeu]

Beginners are unselfconscious.

As we gain knowledge in any given topic, there is often a degree of self-cosnciousness and competitiveness that sets in. We want to show that we are not "newbies" anymore and so we become more careful about what we write and how we present ourselves - lest the "cool people" make fun of us. But the nice thing about blogs that haven't reached that stage yet is their sincerity. They don't even know what the right vs the wrong thing to say is, so they express what they actually think.



Despite my two years of writingLovely Bicycle, I feel that I have somehow managed to remain in that state. I am so remarkably uncool as far as "cycling culture" goes, that I cannot even fathom the full extent of my uncoolness. That's one of the things that keeps me going and allows me to continue writing this blog, so as far as I'm concerned it's for the best.I enjoy novice cycling blogs of all types. And I hope that beginners continue to feel motivated to document their growing love of bicycles in their unique, authentic voices without worrying about coming across as silly. Beginners helping other beginners can be of greater value than expert knowledge.

What happened to the Camp Muir Webcam?

April 14,

The webcam hasn't worked since a fateful day in late November.

I have it in my office in Longmire. I went up about two months ago with all the tools to fix it, but I was unable to make field repairs, so I dismantled it and brought it down the hill.

I have been able to connect to the on-board server, but the image doesn't come up in the admin tool. I will delegate this repair to one of the climbing rangers over the next few weeks. If we can't repair or make an easy adjustment, then we'll have to order a new one.

How did it get broken? Well, reports have come in from various places, but it appears that the webcam has been consistently been taking a good beating. Not by weather, but by people, well-meaning people, to be more exact. The webcam during storms gets rimed up and it obscures the view. It may stay like this for days. So when avid viewers are actually at Camp Muir and in a position to "fix" the rime on the camera, they either hit or scrape the rime off the camera.

The marks on the camera's protective dome seem to corroborate the circumstantial evidence and the hear-say. It definitely looks like dome has taken some pretty heavy blows with a sharp object.

It will still be a month or more until I can get it working again.

Sorry for the delay.

Sharing Space with Pedestrians

As cyclists, when we are not sharing the roads with cars we often share space with pedestrians: mixed use paths (MUPs), off road trails, certain types of crossings, even the road itself in areas with no sidewalks. To new cyclists this usually seems like a safer option to riding in traffic, but they soon learn that mixing with pedestrians presents its own challenges. People on foot move differently than those on a bike and their behaviour can be difficult to predict. Compared to cyclists, pedestrians are less likely to keep a consistent line of travel and more likely to make unexpected stops, which makes passing them tricky. Children make sudden u-turns. Dog walkers let their canines loose. Couples shove each other playfully across the path. Joggers zig-zag obliviously with their headphones on. Even seemingly predictable walkers moving at a steady pace can stop without warning if they get a phone call or notice something interesting.These things happen.




A local woman new to bicycling once told me she was hurt and baffled to discover how much pedestrians, whom she had considered allies, dislike cyclists - not only failing to apologise, but inevitably blaming her for the near-collisions they cause. (I can certainly relate: Just earlier this week a man whose undisciplined dog lunged at my wheel as I passed them cursed at me for not being "more careful.") I think the reason for this is simply that we, as cyclists, are perceived as more aggressive because we are operating machines and moving faster than walking speed. Despite whose fault an incident is, we are seen as the dangerous ones.




It doesn't help matters that pedestrians might not hear a cyclist's approach, or might not know how to react even when they do. In my 4th year of riding in Boston now, I have still not found an ideal way to gently warn those on foot of my presence. If I ring my bell, they might freeze or panic. If I say "on your left" they might instinctively jumpto the left. If I say "excuse me" they might misinterpret this to mean "get out of my way" and get offended. And if I say nothing at all and don't ring a bell, they might move into my line of travel at the exact moment I try to pass them. No solution is guaranteed to work.




When sharing space with pedestrians, I have now simply learned to accept the inherent unpredictability of it; the need for vigilance and reduced speed. Iexpect inconsistency, especially when children are involved. Ipass carefully and never assume my approach is heard or understood. I am mindful of dogs even if they appear to be on a short leash (those things are sometimes expandable). When in doubt, I slow to a crawl or stop altogether. And I do not enter into altercations: If a pedestrian at fault fails to apologise or even shouts at me, I just let it go.While these incidents can be frustrating, I try to keep in mind that as a cyclist I am the fast and scary one; I am the one who is operating a machine.




When I voiced this philosophy to the woman who'd complained of being disliked by pedestrians, she pointed out that cyclists are no less vulnerable in a collision and therefore such a distinction is unfair. Maybe so, but I don't think it's a matter of fairness. I suspect that pedestrians' response to cyclists as "fast machines, therefore dangerous" is a visceral one. Should parents be taken to task for not supervising their children and allowing them to run across the path? Should dog walkers be reported for not obeying the leashing laws? Maybe, but on some level that seems petty to me and I just don't see it making a real difference. The only reasonable solution, in my view, is to separate the infrastructure and not group pedestrians and cyclists together. Until then, we must make do with what is available, cycling responsibly and cautiously in the shared space.

When Spouses Worry About Cyclists

I get a fair number of questions from readers - and, interestingly, only heterosexual men so far - asking for advice on how to deal with spouses worrying about them cycling.Somedescribe situations where wives implore them not to go on club rides, or are against them riding for transportation. Other stories are less dramatic, but nonetheless involve an overabundance of spousal distress that in turn makes the cyclist feel guilty.Doesn't my husband worry, they ask? What do I say to ease his mind?




Of course my situation is different, in that my husband is himself a cyclist. His understanding of what riding a bicycle entails is based on reality and not on the negative portrayals of it in the media. Still he does worry about me at times, especially when I go off with riders whose speed and skills far exceed my own. He deals with his concerns by asking me questions and trying to gauge how prepared I am for the ride and how well I myself understand the risks. And I admit that I worry about him too. While he rides considerably fewer miles than I do, I would describe him as more of a risk-taker. If he is late coming home from work, I worry.




It could be that this is the essence of spousal worry: Perceptions of risk. Do wives tend to perceive their husbands as risk-takers more so than the other way around? It would explain why I never hear from women complaining that their husbands worry too much. It could also be that, for whatever reason, female cyclists are more likely to have spouses who also ride bikes.




Either way, unfortunately I am not certain what to suggest here. You could reason with your spouse using statistics, descriptions of how safe your route is and how careful you are - but when fears are irrational this does not always work. Attempts to get your spouse into cycling could do the trick, but could also backfire if they try it and find it frightening. Showing them entertaining materials (films, books, pictures, blogs?) that depict cycling as safe and fun could be a way to go, but how exactly this could be implemented is not clear to me.




While we all want to be free to do as we like, we also don't want to drive our loved ones sick with concern for our safety.It would be good to hear from readers who've gone through this type of situation and resolved it successfully.

The Main Parallelogram

I am working on a step-through bicycle frame - a design which is simultaneously common and unusual. It is common if you look around the streets of Boston, which are teeming with vintage step-throughs. And it is unusual considering that no one I know has built this exact style of frame. Mixtes and modified step-throughs yes. But not plain step-throughs where the top and down tubes are parallel. In fact, this bicycle does not even have what can be called a main triangle. It is a main parallelogram.




The head tube and the seat tube are also parallel lines - each at a 72° angle. This double set of parallels makes for an interesting visual pattern.






For this frame I used straight gauge tubing, so that I could practice cutting and brazing unsupervised without worrying about butting and thin walls. The hardy tubing should also minimise flex and twist in the step-through design, as well as make it possible to store the finished machine outdoors and generally treat it as a beater bike.






The joints will be fillet brazed (lugless) - partly because I would like to practice fillet brazing, and partly because there isn't currently a reliable source for a step-through lugset. Fillet brazing requires using brass as the filler material and heating up the joints considerably more than you would with lugged silver brazing. Since I am using straight gauge tubing, this should not be a problem. The only thing I am a little nervous about is the bottom bracket. With a lugged bottom bracket, the tubes are inserted into hollow sleeves, allowing you to look inside after brazing and check whether the filler material has pulled through properly. With a plain shell like the one pictured here, this cannot be done. I've considered using a lugged bottom bracket while fillet brazing the rest of the joints, but ultimately decided against that. I'll just have to be especially diligent in this area.






My goal in making this frame was to get some practice with basic technique without having to worry about thin wall tubing, unusually wide tires or multitudes of braze-ons. However, it was also crucial to me that I ride the finished bike as much as possible as part of everyday life, and I knew that would not happen with a plain diamond frame. The resulting compromise was a single speed 26" wheel step-through with a raked-out fork. Basically very similar to the prototypical English "Sports Roadster," but with lower trail.






Getting the slanted top tube was in a sense straightforward, but not without its quirks. To start with I specced out the slope to match the angle of the downtube. Funny thing though: When the angles were mathematically identical they looked off to the human eye (several spectators confirmed this), so in fact the tubes had to be not quite parallel in order for them look right. Paul Carson taught me how to use his notching lathe, and none of the notches were problematic except for the top head joint. That one had to be adjusted repeatedly to make the angle look right - but finally it got there.




As the mocked up tubes are starting to look bike-like, those who see the beginnings of this frame tend to have an "Aha, I know what kind of bike this is!" type of reaction. It's been nice to get that feedback. While the first frame I made was done in the privacy of a teacher-student environment, now I am working in a shared shop space with loads of people around. Random people passing through will ask what I am working on, and repeatedly I find myself articulating not just the concept of the frame but the step-by-step process of building it. No doubt this recital helps me make more sense of the process myself.

Aspen Leaves

The aspen trees were just leafing out and their leaves almost looked like flowers when the sun would shine on them.

Sophie Prior - "The Ricoh Destruction Test"

Sophie Prior came to visit.






So did Logan Barber.

The jjobrien climbing and relaxation ranch on Australia's Sunshine Coast hinterland has beengraced witha long list of climbing legends and little-knowns.

The staff were excited about the arrival of Logan Barber and gave little thought to his plus-one a Sophie Proir.

Turns out she has talent, grace and presence.




A quick climbing tour of the Sunny Coast starts with the obligatory thrash on Coolum Cave's icons.



How do you like this guy? He puts all the moves together in one session. Sadly, didn't get to go back and send it. No doubt he can and will.





Then for a "rest" day they get stuck into "The Ricoh Destruction Test" 100m 23 (M1)

I have to work that day but I wag a couple of hours and rap in over the fourth pitch.

They ran into some problems on the second pitch and I whipped out the long lens justas they werefeeling the joy of getting established at the second hangingbelay.







Logan knocks off the tricky third pitch, blocky overlaps and lack of feet.







Sophie follows and picks her way through the overlaps.



Funny story. I moved to Tinbeerwah in 2000. There were just a couple of routes there but rarely any climbers. I hatched a plan to create a climbing scene close to my home.

So I spent weeks bolting the longest, hardest route I could conceive ofthinking it would drawclimbers from everywhere.

Nothing.

The route has probablyhad about three repeats in over ten years.

A year later I bolted some 14s. That got 'em in.







Gareth Llewellyn and Adam Donoghue did the route on their epic "Tinny in a day"

There's been a couple of hundred metres of hard climbing added since then.







Sophie gets the stand-out pitch 4.

Slabby, columns, run outs, big air below, carrots, it's got it all.











The Ricoh in question failed the 100M drop test by the way. It's mangled body could be seen at the base of the route.

My old Nokia phone got dropped from here at 80M. Recovered the following day.

"You have 3 messages"!!!






















Best shot of the roll.

Perfect position and poise. You can just make out Logan at the vanishing point.







Nice work team. Logan ticked a swag of tough routes around SEQ in a punishing nine days on.






Logan inspects Queensland's hardest high ball boulder sector never to have been touched.







Late winter is luxurious on the Sunny Coast, beautiful days and wild flowers.

Sophie's home is in the Blue Mountains, a favourite of Aussie climbers but so harsh in winter.












Thanks Sophie.

I've been trying to sell this route for a decade.