Lundy Pt 2 - August 16th - Devils Slide

We had spent the previous day  wandering round the island as we were unable to climb due to high winds. Lundy is basically a large plug of granite so the west side gets all the weather coming in off the Atlantic while the more sheltered east side has small trees and bushes that stop once they reach the level of the island plateau. I think Lundy is a beautiful island but I accept that some people might consider it a bit bleak. I love bleakness, I love the way you are forced to look for subtle signs of beauty. The way the light changes and colours the rolling hills, tiny flowers, lichen colours, rock formations,  wind moving the grass and the shapes created by dry stone walls on the landscape. But Lundy is also lucky in that it has a spectacular coast line, you could argue that once you've seen one sea cliff you have seen them all but as climbers we are able to see it and explore it in a way that many other visitors to the island miss out on.

The Devils Slide is probably the most spectacular feature on the island and one which is begging to be climbed. To view it closely involves scrambling down a treacherous grassy slope, a route rarely taken by those not intending to climb. From above it is a 117 metre featureless slope at an angle that seems impossible to climb given the lack of apparent holds. However once you abseil down to sea level and safely deposit yourself on a large rock (only at low tide) the angle becomes more friendly. The rock also shows its true self and small dints, pockets, dimples, crystals, cracks and breaks become apparent.

Again, the beauty of Lundy is only revealed upon closer inspection. As you leave the comfort of the belay rock a knobble of sharp granite appears, a finger pocket comes where there are no other hand holds, a tiny blind crack accepts a tiny micro wire that gives you the confidence to carry on, everything where you need it if only you can take the time to look and find it. The second pitch follows with more of the same and the abseil point is reached again. Up to this point its the easiest HS I've ever been on, its probably easier than a lot of Severe's I've been on. Pitch three is where it gets interesting and it was my lead. The angle gets steeper, the holds become less hold like and more sloping rock like and most importantly the gear disappears. Even the belay isn't obvious but thankfully the other team in our party had knowledge of a thread and had left it in situ for me as I'm not sure I could have  spotted it other wise. Looking down from my belay I spotted another team following us and I said "smile!" and waited to take a photo. He didn't smile, in fact he looked down right unhappy, latter confirmed in the pub when he said "I really didn't feel like smiling at that point" (Note - you will see EVERYONE in the pub later, there's no where else to go and its the hub of the island which is why it never closes)

Then comes the fourth pitch which the guidebook describes as 'delicate' using language in a way that only guide books can. See also 'bold', 'exciting' and 'exposed'. It has a reputation as being protection-less but there are two pieces of gear if you look and are able to hang around in a 'delicate' spot long to enough to spot it and place it. The short pitch is indeed delicate with one bold move from a small finger pocket. The final pitch is a romping scramble up easy ground.

When we had all regrouped a few hours later we noticed that the rising tide had grabbed the abseil rope and snagged it around a rock. The next day we returned in the foulest weather and an unlucky volunteer had to ab down another rope, attempt to release it (it couldn't be released and had to be cut) then climb back up the first two pitches of the route with rain bouncing so hard it had formed a two foot 'mist' across the rock surface. A cautionary tale for us all.
Other fitter teams did Albion, a magnificent looking VS at the side of the devils slide slab

When we returned to rescue the ab rope I took the opportunity to scatter some of my Dads ashes. He had always wanted to climb and the magazines that he bought and I read were the main inspiration to the start of my climbing career. We would joke that he lived a vicariously as a climber through me and the photos I shared with him. One day I took him a copy of the reissued Classic Rock and he stopped at the page that featured The Devils Slide. He had a climbers appreciation of a 'good line' and said "bloody hell, look at that. You must go and do that route for me". Well I did Dad and I can't think of a better place to spread your ashes.

Lundy - August 14th - 18th

My first trip to Lundy began with a night on Ilfracombe harbour in a camper van to ensure we were there in time to catch the 10am boat. The local youths doing handbrake turns around our van until 3am meant we had little sleep but luckily the travel sickness pills I took made me nod off during the 2 hour journey and I arrived on the island as fresh as anyone who had been suffering from whooping cough for the previous three weeks could. While I was awake on the boat I occupied myself by gazing out to sea in order to avoid seeing almost everyone around me throwing up. Whenever I turned into the boat I was faced with yet another person retching into a handily provided sick bag.

Once the tractor had dropped off our luggage at the campsite, we set up our tent, had a bite to eat and geared up. We headed towards the Battery, built in 1869 to supplement the Old Light and warn ships in bad weather by firing two large cannons which are still there.

 An abseil down to the boiling sea, then we perched on a small rock and set off up Battery Rib, a V Diff. The rock was the roughest rock I've ever climbed on (and I've climbed on Skye!) with amazingly positive foot placements even where no holds appear to exist.

By this time our stomachs were rumbling and the pub was calling so we headed back to the campsite, showered and went to the excellent Marisco Tavern was a pint of Old Light and a delicious meal. We went to bed a t 9.30. Sea air, eh?