El lado bueno de Instagram

El lado bueno de Instagram

Aunque todo el mundo lo usa, se ha puesto muy de moda criticar al pobre Insta. Es un blanco fácil en nuestra época de cinismo y mala leche: un monumento al narcisismo de la generación millennial  hecho realidad. O sea, mi maldita generación, por mucho que quiero estar por encima de estas cosas.

Parte de la mala leche de estos haters (¡Que dios nos perdone!) viene de la simplicidad de Instagram. Nada de los artículos, las opiniones y los pensamientos (seudo) profundos que abundan en su hermano mayor (tanto por su edad como por el hecho de que Facebook nos está espiando a todos). Lo que tienes en el jovencito Instagram son fotos, vídeos cortos y una escasez de palabras que te rilas.

Por mi parte, decidí tirarme a la piscina, tras haberme resistido mucho tiempo. Era de cañas un juernes (otro millennialismo), con una pandilla formada por un amigo tan rancio y antirredes como yo por aquel entonces, y un amigo que instagrameaba (llamemos a la RAE, que ya es un verbo,) bastante.

#gaylove

Bueno, para burlarnos de él, el hater y yo creamos una cuenta juntos, allí en el bar, con el único motivo de superarle en seguidores. Y teníamos un plan: el buscaría seguidores gays y yo a escaladores, así por tener a dos rincones del mercado. Parecía un buen plan después de unas cervezas pero después de una semana mi amigo se aburrió, dejándome con nuestra cuenta recién nacida. 

Y yo empezando a engancharme a la maldita cosa. Un amigo madrileño, más metido que yo en esas cosas me dijo una vez que: ‘ahora la escalada se mueve por Instagam.’ Y mira que tuvo razón. No hacen falta las casposas webs de noticias de escalada cuando puedes seguir a los atletas directamente en Instagram. Pero ver a los grandes a nivel internacional no da tanto gusto como ver hazañas de mi querida zona centro. Resulta más motivador ver a gente que conozco luchando sus batallas por Pedriza, Zarza, Esco, Albarra, Bayuela, Tamajon y más allá. Vas al bloque recién encadenado por algún mutante, tocas las presas enanas y dices: ‘!Fuck! La gente es muy fuerte.’ 

Quién va a qué sitio el finde, quién está entrenando y quién lesionado, quién hace su proyecto y quién cae en el último paso, estas cosas son las verdaderas joyas del Insta. Cuando llueve y voy al rocódromo a entrenar, reconozco la mitad de las caras y sus últimos logros y fracasos, todo gracias a Instagram. 

Además de todo esto, es práctico, sobre todo cuando no sabes cómo se hacía ese puto paso del bloque no sé qué. Existen videos de absolutamente todos.

Unas anécdotas. Vi un vídeo de un amigo haciendo La Ermita. (8A) Pedazo bloque, tan bueno que llamaron La Ermita de Peña Sacra por él. (¿O fue al revés?) Ese bloque lo había dejado por vencido hace un par de temporadas pero al ver su video me motivé ir a probarlo otra vez. Al final no lo hice, (¡joder!) esto habría sido demasiado perfecto, pero lo dejé apuntito para la temporada que viene.

La Ermita

...and again

 También pasó al revés. Una semana después de poner una foto de un bloque algo esotérico, lo vi repetido por un amigo mío, autor de la guía de La Pedriza nada menos. Así corre la motivación pallá y pacá, impulsada por nuestros móviles.

Vaginario

Una vez encontré una botella (de esas botellas caras que no se tira) al lado de un bloque, y supe al instante de quién era, basándome solo en sus posts del Insta. La dejé escondida y mandé un mensaje al tío diciéndole por dónde se encontraba. Vínculos forjados en la fragua de una afición compartida por las redes.

Sé perfectamente que las redes también tienen su lado oscuro, ya bastante discutido en los medios. Lo de compararse constantemente con otros ha sacado un deporte que era muy individualista al mundo competitivo. También, la presión de mostrar tu cara más amable hace que nos portemos como ejecutivos de marketing en vez de los bichos raros que somos en realidad.  Y seguro que para los muy jóvenes su uso desenfrenado es un desastre en cuanto a la autoestima, los estudios y el acoso. Pero pese al alarmismo en estos frentes, veo mucha más comunidad que hostilidad dentro de mi rincón de escalada madrileña.

Semana Santa 2017

Día 1
Fui andando a Avenida América donde mis compañeros me iban a recoger. Parecía algo ridículo en plena ciudad con una colchoneta enorme, una mochila con un casco colgado etc. La furgoneta tardó bastante en llegar, algo muy de esperar en España, así que pasé por Hontanares a comprar una de las mejores palmeras de Madrid. Por fin llegaron, metí mis cosas y salimos de Madrid, destino pre-Pirineo.

El Rey

Una parada obligatoria en un Mercadona de Torrejon de Ardoz, donde nos volvimos locos, comprando todo tipo de mierda a mansalva. Barritas, ¡sí! Chocolate, ¡Obvio! Pasteles también, ¿Por qué no?

Luego, en el medio de la nada, recorriendo carreteras estrechas con paredes de caliza alzándose a ambos lados, nos detuvimos en la panadería de un pueblecito. En la panadería, una cosa enana que parecía la cocina de una familia, colgaba detrás del mostrador una foto firmada por el rey de la escalada: Chris Sharma. ¡Habíamos llegado!

Llegamos por la tarde a la escuela de Terradets: un acantilado enorme de caliza naranja surcada por una pequeña franja verde de arbustos y árboles: una feixa en catalán.

largo 34567

Aquí empezamos a escalar. La verdad es que solo conocía a Diego por aquel entonces y el solo de hacer bloque. La escalada deportiva es otro rollo, por así decirlo: de técnica, de asegurar y sobre todo, de tirarse arriba de primero, confiando en tu pareja. Y no sabía cómo iba a ser. Había hecho mucha escalada deportiva, pero hacía muchos años y estaba algo oxidado. Y de la experiencia de Diego tampoco sabía nada. Nos lo echamos a chinos, y él se tiró de primero en el primer largo. Luego me contó que tuvo las mismas dudas sobre mí. Afortunadamente, procuré no matarle, ni él a mí, y al cabo de un par de largos nos movíamos con más soltura.


Día 2: Mescalina y el Buitre
Se dice que ‘a quien madruga, dios le ayuda,’ y cuando vas de vacaciones con Miguel ‘Mihau’ Bonnet, dios te ayuda mucho. Nada mas sonar el despertador y el grito de ‘Vamos’ provenía de su cama en la furgoneta. Diego y yo, bloqueros, y mal acostumbrados al ritmo alpino, nos quejamos un montón, llamándole cagaprisas en cada momento. Pero al final se agradece tener un cagaprisas a bordo, acabas haciendo más cosas, sobre todo cuando se trata de ‘viotes’ en que puedes tardar 6 horas.


Bueno, aquel día tocaba Mescalina, una vía de 16 largos. Empezamos abajo titiritando de frío hasta que el sol empezó a dar en la pared. No hay nada como escalar con españoles para hacer a uno sentirse muy inglés. Empecé a sudar, me eché un bote de crema solar y aun así parecía una gamba. Ellos seguían completamente iguales.


Un sufrimiento, los pies ardiendo de los pies de gato, dolor de cuerpo de estar con el arnés en las reuniones colgadas, deshidratados pese al agua que llevamos, arrastrando nuestros cuerpos cada vez más altos en la pared. Juraría que hasta los españoles empezaron a sufrir un poco.

Llevábamos 4 horas así, y quedaban pocos largos por hacer. Diego iba de primero, Mihau asegurándole y yo agachado en la sombra. Diego escaló rápido y pronto desapareció de nuestra vista, Mihau siguió dándole cuerda. Después de un rato nos parecía que Diego había parado; no tiró de la cuerda. ¿Habrá llegado quizás? Una pausa prolongada y abajo empezamos a
preocuparnos.

Mar de caliza

‘¿Estás en la reunión?’

La respuesta, en voz tan baja que casi no se oía con el viento:

‘Lo veo… pero hay un buitre en la repisa.’

Mihau le bajó lo más rápido que pudo y nos piramos de allí pitando en rápel hasta la feixa. Una putada habernos quedado tan cerca, pero mejor una retirada honrosa que ser el gillipollas que jode la nidificación de los buitres y consigue que el ayuntamiento prohíba la escalada en Terradets.

The best thing for climbing you'll ever buy

I'm getting the hang of this clickbait title thing. Stay tuned for 'You won't believe what Sharma puts on his breakfast cereal.'

But seriously, let me tell you about the best  piece of climbing gear you'll ever buy. It's expensive but it'll up your game considerably. No, I'm not talking about buying a massive crashpad, overpriced chalk or magic shoes. A car. Get a car you idiot.

Vintage Galicia

The best piece of climbing equipment I ever bought was a 1991 Seat Ibiza. Wow, was that car in bad condition. Dents all over, an interior from the 1940's and the bonnet flapped ominously at speed.  I should have never even given her a second look. But she was in my price range: a cool 700 euros. Fortunately, her beauty was functional rather than aesthetic. In the end, that Ibiza took me all over: Galicia, Portugal, Tarifa, Santa Gadea and Albarracín: my first big trip. I drove there alone in eight hours and slept in the back at -5 degrees. The poor thing could barely cough itself back to life each morning.

I can't overstate how reliable this car was for almost exactly two years, right up until it died. Flew back from weekend in Font, hopped in the car and while heading back to my pueblo, it uttered its final death rattle. Temperature needle in the red, beeping like an alarm clock. And that was it. Car was cheaper to scrap than fix: must have cost fifty euros when I scrapped it. RIP The Prestige. (named after the oil tanker that sunk of the Galician coast in 2002 and caused a massive ecological disaster, not the Nolan movie)


As soon as you know your old car is irrevocably dead, the panic starts. You can't go back to relying on other people. Other people suck. (#notall)  You've got boulders to do, trips to go on. You start scheming, looking around for anything with four wheels. Every day you're not on rock, your ability to rationalize a shit purchase increases. You imagine the endless trove of good condition second hand cars; 'previous owner was an old lady who only used it to go to church on Sunday.' They don't exist, but you convince yourself. You spend altogether too much time on second hand car websites. Something in your face marks you out as someone begging to be ripped off.

My second car was a massive error on my part:

a massive four door Peugeot from a shady dealer in Extremadura. It's air conditioning was broken and the fuel indicator stopped working after the first week. It handled like a boat, but what can you do? You're in the middle of the Spanish desert having accumulated a carful of shit. So you go to the grimy local car dealer and empty your account to buy a car that'll last you less than a year.  

At least this one had the good grace to die in the city. Got it towed, got the metro back home.  Please let it be something fixable. Nope. RIP Blue Ruin.

Blue ruin in the car park at Albarracín

Brings me nicely to my current ride. a super modern Ibiza four door from 2002. I've had it for about a year and I've already replaced basically all of it. Catalytic converter last year and gear box and distribution (whatever that is) this year. That's not bloody cheap. Still, it's something at least. Despite the fact that it's comparatively new and modern, I live in perpetual fear of a breakdown that'd leave me stuck in the city again.

AWWWW! Only a two seater when fully loaded with crashpads

Driving also stresses me out. The M30 in Madrid is particularly ridiculous. Four lanes in rush hour, traffic merging from both sides, motorbikes and scooters weaving through it. Nobody indicates in this country. Not to mention the pollution. I tried to get into running last year, but you come back coughing your lungs up. It's impossible. It never rains in the summer and there's a toxic cloud that hangs over the city, You can see it as you drive back from the boulders, a constant reminder that we're all fucking the planet. Roll on teleportation. I'm not the type to drive for the sake of it, but it is what it is. Hybrids aren't cheap enough to be affordable and I'd rather go climbing, the unborn future generations can suck it.

So what's the lesson here? Cars suck. They eat money and shit pollution. They stress me out and have probably taken years off my life. We'll all have respiratory conditions in our sixties. Despite all this, it gets me to the damn boulders. I attribute 100% of my sends in the last four years to being able to fall off the requisite 500 times to actually get something done. So yeah, if you want to send, get a car. It's shit for the planet, your bank account and your blood pressure but you'll climb more and harder. A price worth paying?

Risk

I bought a helmet. It's shiny and it's blue and it's the cheapest one from Decathlon. Despite not really wanting one, peer pressure finally pushed me over the edge. Climbing culture has been subtly and not so subtly pushing helmets on us for a while now, but in the end it was my friends that forced my hand.

Stylin'

A roadtrip was on the cards: multipitch, trad and barely any boudering. The people I was going with told me to get one, so I did. Always pays not to be that guy. I still remember the halcyon days of trad in the peak and n'er a helmet in sight. Were we just idiots? Were we lucky? So now I wear a helmet on trad and multipitch. Except when I forget of course. Anyway, the new gear led long train of thought about risk, and events in the ol' climbing world weren't exactly helping.

Firstly, Ueli Steck died. A guy who always seemed completely solid and in control. According to the accident report he just slipped. Snow or ice seems way more sketchy than rock in this regard. At least rock is solid. Then again, there's that little video of Chulilla that's been doing the rounds on social media, reminding us that most sport crags are also just a good kick away from falling on our heads. Lovely.

Then there was that harrowing article on UKC. Jeeeesus, did they have to include gory photos and everything? It was really great to have those images stuck in my mind as I set off for that weekend's adventure. The only reason that many of us get out there at all is the irrational belief that it won't happen to you. But is that irrational? Only an infinitesimal proportion of climbers actually have a serious accident, and most of them are mountaineering rather than on rock. Even so, we were climbing loose dirty wet cracks on trad gear, so I double checked everything all weekend like a lunatic.

The following weekend it rained and I went to the wall to do some routes. After having led a few, we were told by the receptionist that if we were leading we'd have to wear helmets! In Spain! A country that normally couldn't give less fucks about health and safety. (Is this a thing now in real countries like England?) We'd seen others leading with helmets and quietly chuckled at their punterishness, assuming they were new to the sport or something. After that, we weren't exactly psyched on the whole thing and went back to bouldering. In 2030 when they force you to wear a helmet for indoor bouldering, I'll kill myself.

Honnold soloing Freerider is another thing that even the normies are aware of. An impressive feat, but when ever Honnold so much as moves one of his fat fingers, people start churning out the think-pieces about soloing, coverage of soloing, sponsorship and on and on. You'd think they'd get tired of writing the same article about the same dude every year or so.

Anyway, all this risk related stuff got me writing. (so really I'm not so different than those think-piece authors that I was just rude about) Personally I'd argue the most hands-off argument, which may not necessarily the most popular one these days. Ultimately, every climber is responsible for ensuring their own safety. Well that was a meaningless cliche, so let's try to throw some grey into the picture.

Conglomerate: fortunately not as loose as it looks 

What about when you're in the mountains with friends? If you take a risk and fuck up, you could be jeopardizing their safety. Valid point, but don't the friends in this situation also have moral agency? After all, they freely decided to take you with them on their trip. This leaves two options. Either they were aware of your well known capacity to fuck up and took you anyway, or they hadn't vetted you for this kind of behavior beforehand. So while the idiot-protagonist takes most of the blame, there's still plenty for the supporting cast.

Obviously this blame game is only played when the error is directly attributable to an obvious and dangerous mistake. The spectrum of accident causes runs from pure human error all the way to completely random events, with most somewhere in between. There are so many variables that it's impossible for us to be aware of all of them, so the pragmatic answer has to be personal choice. We're back to the cliche again.

So, climbing is an individual sport and as such, tended to attract people with an individualist mindset. Unfortunately this mindset seems increasingly at odds with modern culture.




That's why they'll ban climbing one day. The same way they'll ban driving as soon as self-driving cars perform better than their fleshy counterparts. The arguments will be exactly the same: that the risks and dangers of 'insert enjoyable activity here' simply outweigh the benefits. Ban smoking, drugs, alcohol, anything with a bit of edge. And climbing has that. No formal rules, the potential for death, and absolutely no barriers to entry. Protection from harm and freedom to harm oneself are often mutually exclusive concepts. Being protected may seem like a universally good thing, but it's smothering in the long run. Agency is like a muscle, it atrophies if you don't use it. If we never face choices, we'll fail the moment a real one is presented to us. And yeah, maybe some people will make the wrong choice and suffer the consequences, maybe some idiot will be 'inspired' and bite off more than he can chew soloing. But the alternative of a sanitized world sounds worse than that.

The problem is that the safety lovers appear to be dominating the conversation at the moment . They have all the right arguments: after all, why does any reasonable person need to smoke a cigarette or climb a wall. This nannying, hyper-rationalist vision of the world that makes perfect sense if you completely ignore human nature in all of its messy glory. It also has the ability to creep in without people even noticing they're ceding ground. So do something stupid while you still can.

Maybe I'm an alarmist? Exaggerating? The climbing equivalent of Infowars? I'm sure if you told
earliest adopters of our great sport that they'd ever be wearing helmets for indoor climbing, they'd have told you the same thing.

So much fun it should be illegal

Remember when climbing had a sense of humor?

Jesus H Christ, climbing media is a comedic wasteland these days. These days, climbing media seems to come in different shades of preachy or pretentious. It's no longer enough to see a climber crushing something in a beautiful corner of the world, there has to be some heavy handed message about overcoming adversity or (shudders) personal growth tacked on to the narrative. Is that really what climbers want? To me, this projected image of climbers as a whole seems to be at odds with climbers themselves. We are, generally, an irreverent bunch, not taking themselves too seriously and prone to cracking jokes at their own expense. Maybe I'm missing out on the whole deep spiritual quest side of the climbing equation, but there does seem to be a pretentiousness oozing into the edges of climbing culture. Take a stroll through Instagram and imagine explaining these (real!) hashtags to anyone over the age of 35:

#nature, #climbingismypassion, #climbingisbliss, #climbinglife, #livefree, #strongisbeautiful, #tradisrad, #sunsoutgunsout 

I could have gone another 50 but my spine was cringing out of my back. You get the point. We're all taking ourselves super seriously. At risk of coming over all Holden Caulfield, it just comes across as, well, phony.

One also can't help but feel the dead hand of corporatism behind this new trend in videos. Every time I come across a super earnest and serious video tackling a super serious issue, it's not hard to imagine managers and market researchers behind the scenes, murmuring about brand identity and projecting the right image. Undoubtedly the increasing availability of cutting edge tech has narrowed the gap between professional and amateur video content, but you can still tell how much money something has behind it. There's unreal gloss to everything. Too many close ups of shoes being put on, too many timelapses and this deadpan earnestness that I've never encountered in a real person. In some cases, you can see that the climbers themselves are clearly uncomfortable at being asked to pontificate in this faux-candid style.  

#notall I hear you cry! I probably should add some caveats and exceptions to my sweeping generalizations for you nitpickers out there. I was careful above to make the distinction between professional and amateur video. Broadly, amateur video still consists of some guy climbing with some sick beats in the background. Nothing wrong with that and a great way to check out an area before you go. More power to 'em!

But the current lack of humor wasn't always the case. Hop in the time machine, whack on the nostalgia googles and I'll take you on a tour of climbing's long lost sense of humor.
Remember Boogie till you Poop? That was mad popular back in that day. The kind of fecal humor that's universal in its appeal.
Even mainstream stuff like the Reel Rock series used to make jokes back in the day? Top Rope Tough Guys was great, and Roxx. Them's were the days.
Any of the old Dave Graham videos, such as Small Amazing Things or the classic Between The Trees. These two, especially the latter, were funny without even trying, and also managed to tell a story without ever slipping into pretentiousness.

Back in the present, climbing related lols are relatively thin on the ground, but they still exist in some dark corners of the internet. Go. Watch and subscribe. Stimulate the market for this type of stuff.

1. Anything with Honnold in it. The guy is surprisingly funny, talks a lot of shit and is clearly not being told what to say by anyone. The combination of really dangerous climbing with seeming irreverence which is a winning combination. Even in interviews when he's talking about stuff he cares about like the environment, he manages not to be insufferably preachy, which is no mean feat.
2. Rawk Tawk's Instagram account. Their meme game is so tight it's ridiculous. They're not afraid to take aim at anyone: pro-climbers, brands,and other sacred cows of the industry. They're also clearly massive climbing nerds, and produced what is possibly my favorite meme.
3. Shit Climbers Say by LT11. Bit old now, but still funny.
4. Rock Climbing Life. Once again it's old but it was a great example of Poe's law in effect. Go back and read those first few articles and you won't be sure if its a parody or not.
5. Punterwatch on twitter.

Just used a non-microwavable bowl in the microwave. Pretty devil-may-care. Will @fivetenuk sponsor me now? #brandofthebrave 

#brandoftheknob

Whats's my conclusion to all this? Well, climbing is getting bigger, the number of climbing walls in Madrid has doubled since I've been here, you've got Shauna Coxey being interviewed by the BBC and the Olympics guarantees a fuckton of exposure. Hell I've even got normies sharing climbing content on my newsfeed. It's a truism but mo' money tends to indicate mo' problems. You can definitely feel the urge by companies to broaden the appeal of our little niche sport. to make it nice and safe and friendly and positive and socially conscious and on and on and on... I guess my worry is that bland commercialism is going to edge out the unique personality of climbing culture. I guess Rawk Tawk's lampooning of things like Ashima's recent sponsorship deal with Coca Cola is the closest thing I've seen to a kickback so far.

Or maybe I'm just misanthropic, overly nostalgic and worried for no reason.Who knows?

Gaining Weight

Dirty feet

It's pre-season here in Madrid so I'm trying to drag my body into some semblance of form for when the conditions really arrive. This year I've had to adapt to changing circumstances.

The free climbing wall in Cuidad Universitaria that I raved about in a previous blog post is now closed indefinitely. From what I hear, a child climbed on top of the wall and somebody raised concerns about health and safety. It's terrible that this type of culture is now arriving in Spain. I always enjoyed seeing a cheerful disregard for risk here that would never be allowed in England. 

Flippancy aside, this was a blow to my normal training in September. That wall had the Ty Landman training holy trinity:

"My tip for getting stronger is to climb steep, straight angles, 30-45 degrees; big moves between bad holds, where you must keep your feet on. This develops footwork and body tension. No heel hooks, toe hooks or anything like that, just basic straightforward pulling".

Couldn't have put it better myself. Overhanging, fingery holds and bad feet in combination with a great community of setters. It shall definitely be missed. There's a Facebook campaign to reopen the wall here. I'm sure they'd appreciate the numbers even if you've never climbed there before.  

So this has led to my only training being on the fingerboard this month. Which is fine, when I was in Extremadura I trained on the fingerboard for months on end with not a lot of actual climbing. This led  to being mad strong but with no sense feeling for the rock. Here in Madrid this is less of a problem. I can build a base early on and start venturing outside later as the temperatures begin to drop. 

The problem I'm facing is the inevitable finger strength plateau that comes with doing the same fingerboard routine for many years. The way I tried to get gains last season was by dropping fingers from my crimp lineup. Although this was certainly effective, it does tend to lead to injury in my case. I always thought my little finger was: "a stubby cocktail sausage", but it turned out that loosing it blows out my ring finger.

So how to increase the load in a way that doesn't lead to tweaks? Weight vest! At the beginning of the month I bought a 20kg weight vest from that wonderful supplier of elite climbing gear: Decathlon. I've been training with it for the whole month, and it's definitely increased the intensity! I've been doing from two to four hours a day (one of the privileges of unemployment) When I wake up in the morning my finger joints are so stiff that I have to warm them up for ten minutes before i can do anything that requires hands.

Early in the month, I noticed minor tweaks in the knuckle of my right hand, but nothing that I couldn't train through. Now it seems my body can handle the weight, as long as i take a long time to warm up. 

So has it worked? I'm gonna have to wait until I get on rock before I'll be able to say if it's given me the bump that I hope it has. Having said this, initial signs are looking good: when you take it off you feel weightless and all the hangs feel easy. I'm hoping that outside every hold will feel a little better and a little more secure but who knows? Time will tell. 

Avoiding the herd

Idea for a game: Spanish bouldering bingo. To be played whenever and wherever you go bouldering. Each characteristic you observe is worth one point. The player with the most points at the end wins. Points are awarded for:

• Dreads, rat-tails or any other atrocious hairstyles. (mullets are worth two points)
• Incredibly badly-behaved dogs. (extra point if there are two, and they're constantly fighting/barking/fucking)
• Marijuana (one point if you only smell it, extra point if you're offered some) 
• Loudness (you'll definitely hear them before you see them)
• ENCOURAGEMENT. (more than you will ever, ever need)
• Littering (especially bits of finger-tape and cigarette ends, they aren't really litter right?) 
• Uncomfortably close spotting (you'll feel violated)
• If they all easily flash your project you get the BASQUE BONUS (three points)

Now, as I read that list I feel like a bit of a misanthrope. Who am I to criticise their eclectic hairstyles? It's a different culture and how dare I apply my repressive aesthetic standards to them. I've also left out another stereotype: Niceness. Spanish climbers are by and large, always nice people. I've been given food, I've been given beta, and yes, I've been offered a smoke. However, as an elitist who enjoys the delusion that climbing attracts a superior type of person, I find it harder to ignore the things that go beyond just mullets.   

Caligula stand 7C 

So firstly, the noise. There is nothing like the peace and tranquillity of an untarnished wilderness, and there is also nothing like having it broken by twenty or so shouting boulderers, dogs in tow, moving through a cloud of weed smoke and leaving a trail of litter. The equivalent noise at a crag in England would be silenced immediately by a combination of tutting and icy glares. 

I should throw out the #notall disclaimer now. Obviously there are some lovely Spaniards who sneak to and from the boulders, leaving no trace but meticulously edited Instagram photos. But as with all of these 'not all (insert group here)' conversations, it doesn't have to be all of them to have a negative impact. I'm sure not everybody who likes swimming in the river Manzanares during the summer months treats the area with disrespect, but it doesn't matter, it's banned now. 

I'm sure it's not just a Spanish thing either, but I definitely see a cultural divide in the amount of litter in Spain compared to England. And I don't even climb in the popular sport climbing areas where anecdotally, it's even worse. So I avoid the crowds, the dogs and the noise; although it has as much to do with my personality as theirs.

Topping out Caligula- ALONE, with nobody to constantly scream 'VENGA'  at me while I'm doing it

I always climb alone. Social interaction, particularly in a foreign language, can be draining, especially if it's with people you don't know that well. Not that I mind it at the climbing wall, where I'm a chatty little bastard. But the second I get in my car and head north, that mindset flips. It's also nice to be completely selfish with your objectives. I want to go to the boulder, warm up, try it for two hours and go home. That's not something you can do when everyone in your group has different objectives. Ultimately climbing is an individual sport, and bouldering is the ultimate expression of that.

Safety is another reason why many chose to boulder in groups, but for me, individual acceptance of risk is part of the experience. Climbing in Galicia was a big contribution to that. A small community and no really big sectors. You boulder in a different way when you're alone.You rehearse everything a lot more and learn exactly what you can do with the crashpads you have. I often walk away from stuff I can't try safely.     

Another thing: I'm self conscious about filming in front of people. Even saying it seems ridiculous in a time when everyone and their mum is constantly go-pro-ing and instagramming their entire lives. I'm not even one of those guys who film everything: I have a broken tripod and a camera from best buy. But it doesn't matter, I'm still worried that someone might mistake me for someone who is like that.

These are my justifications for solitude. Reading it back, some reasons are valid, but others read like stereotypical British neurosis. It's definitely not for everyone. To tie it up in a nice little bow: clean up your shit, control your dogs/hair and if I see you at the crag, you've probably just ruined my session.

P.S. If you're reading this and you have dreads, I'm obviously not talking about your hair.

sketching up The Prawn 7B