Nervous in Suburbia

I’ve been pretty happy with the way that I’ve been climbing recently but almost all of the routes that I’ve climbed have been on cracks. As a climber there are many skills that are required, and despite how this blog may sound, crack climbing is but one of them. I was keen to test myself on a face climb, and I was keen to try Nervous in Suburbia which I had done on top rope near the beginning of the trip. The route requires a cool head, I didn’t think that the route was dangerous, but it would be a bad one to fall off. It’s 5.10a, and consistently difficult for its entire length. In comparison to the security of the cracks, the moves are delicate and balancey, and required neat footwork on small holds. It is only 65 feet long and protection consists of one bolt and three drilled pitons. I stood at the bottom of the route and looked out at the dark clouds, I knew that it was going to rain, but I thought that I could do the short route and then feel content for the rest of the day. As I started towards the first drilled piton, I felt the inevitable pit pat of rain and saw small drops appearing on the rock. One shouldn’t climb sandstone in the rain. Really climbing in the rain generally isn’t good as the friction is reduced. This is as true for sandstone as it is for any other rock but in addition sandstone becomes brittle when wet and holds can break off. I had one more difficult move to make before I could clip the piton which involved a step around a pillar on to a good foothold but with virtually nothing for the hands. I decided to downclimb. Downclimbing is never easy and despite the fact that I hadn’t yet reached the first piton I was still quite a way off the ground. With Anni’s guidance, I made it to the ground and the rain ceased. I was ready to call it a day and use the excuse that rain had stopped play. Anni pointed out the blue clouds and suggested that I gave it another go. Her faith in me felt really significant. I think she knew that I really wanted to do the route; I also think she believed that I could do it, and more importantly I think that she trusted my judgement that I could do the route. Like I said earlier, I didn’t consider the route dangerous in the sense that I would seriously harm myself, but I was aware that if I fell before clipping the first protection then twisted/broken ankles would be the likely result. Also the protection on the route was such that if I fell at the wrong time, whilst I wouldn’t hit the ground I would probably fall a reasonable distance. I knew that I could climb it, I just needed to keep a clear head. Despite being nervous, the actual climb went uneventfully, which is probably the best way for such a climb to go. I felt really pleased to have done it but even more touched by the support and encouragement that Anni had given me. I think that climbing essentially is a safe sport, or more accurately, could be a safe sport if you carefully chose what and how you climbed. But the things that draw people to climbing - the trust in one’s ability, the beauty and simplicity of commitment and the aesthetics of clean featureless lines up a rockface - don’t always draw one to the safest routes. Of course this inevitably means taking risks, and calculated risks form a great part of climbing. Many climbers will solo (climb without a rope) routes that they know are well within their comfort zones, others will place less protection on routes that they think are easy, knowing that if they fall they will get injured but having the confidence in their own abilities that they won’t. Well, for me Nervous in Suburbia was a calculated risk. I wasn’t playing with odds as high as the prementioned examples, but I could easily have chosen safer better protected routes. It must be difficult to have a partner who is prepared to (albeit occasionally) test himself on hard suboptimally protected climbs but Anni responded in the perfect way with faith and encouragement. With the complete security of a top rope she was able to try the climb herself but unfortunately rain really did stop play just short of the first drilled piton (which did I mention was quite high off the ground)


I have never seen drilled pitons anywhere except Utah. I can’t see that they would work on anything other than soft sandstone. Basically, the first ascentionist drills a 1/3” hole and hammers a 1/2” piton into it.