North to South in a day

Several weeks ago my friend and Charlie decided that we would go for a long walk. From North to South Dartmoor to be precise. Charlie had recently dislocated her shoulder and I was 7 week post operation, we both had itchy feet.

So a few days before the winter equinox and the shortest day of the year we decided that 31 miles over the sometimes harsh and rugged terrain of Dartmoor would be our cup of tea. We picked nearly the shortest day of the year, and after a week of heavy rain, we knew the bogs would be errrm….interesting.

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We slept overnight in Charlies van close to the start and awoke to a clear and beautiful moon. After gobbling our porridge and sacking up we hit the first stretch, an unknown path that lead up onto the Cosdon Beacon. The walk in our heads was split into 3.

  1. The first half of the North Moor, through the firing areas (or around them if they’re firing). We suspected this would be the hardest Navigation of the day, although it turned out that once the sun had risen and the threatening rain clouds had disappeared the Nav was surprisingly simple and straight forward, no bogs thrashing at all! We where blessed with a  beautiful moon, sunrise and then cool but dry weather.
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Still fresh, 9 miles in.

2. The dreaded road section. 6 and a bit miles of yomping down tar mac was not our idea of fun. At around 12 miles we hit Postbridge a little weary. This was our first proper stop to refuel, use the toilets and have a nice sit down. After an hour of smashing knees, and hopeful corners we arrives at Two Bridges for another quick sit down and the moral boost of turning the map onto the second sheet. We where then on the last straight into Princetown. From Princetowns grey and slightly depressing feel we headed back out onto open moor and started section 3!

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17 miles in…map turning moment!

3. The third leg was split into three sections, an easy straight bomb down a huge track, a hopefully easy path with some compass work, a straight gravel highway all the way into Ivybridge to finish. This was not the case. We quickly bombed down past South Hessary to Nun’s Cross where we enjoyed our last proper rest as the sun went down, that was the last of the type 1 fun. Little did we know the mist was to descend and the next 8 km would take 4 hours of bog thrashing and not really knowing where we were!

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We saw 2 moons this day!

Soon after Nuns cross the path petered out into nothing but vaguely trampled grass. It didn’t help that visibility dropped to around 10 paces…

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4 hours later, several conversations about where the hell we where and pacing all 8km on a  bearing (Charlie compass, me counting), I had counted to 72, 80 times. Our last hope was to pop out on the gravel highway of the 2 Moors Way. We paced, we walked….nothing. We paced another 100m, still nothing. We gave one last attempt and luckily 50m later we popped out onto gravel and gave a huge sigh of relief!

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Relief at finding gravel!

All was not over…we still had 9 miles to go! We enjoyed the gravel…for a bit…before it became monotonous, hard and painful. At around 26 miles I think we both  hit a wall. I phoned Ivan to come and pick us up in 70 minutes…my stomach had had enough…my eyelids wanted to be closed. We marched on, albeit at a much slower pace. The bogs, mist, pacing and mileage had taken it’s toll. But just before 11pm we popped out at the top of Ivybridge to a much awaited car pick up! And we had done it…2 semi invalids, no training, a lot of good luck, a bit of bad!

We’re going back in the summer to find out what the hell happened in the middle, on our second attempt of the North to South Dartmoor in a day!

Highly recommended, although not to be taken lightly!

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Frustration to Elation with The Old Man

I would like to start off by thanking John, Ben and Will for accepting the crazy lady from the beach.

Ever since I can remember The Old Man of Hoy has been on my tick list. It’s one of those routes that is so steeped in history and fame that just having the chance to climb it would satisfy me (Chris Bonnington climbed it in 1967 as part of live televised showing for the BBC). Standing at 137m tall it is not a ‘true’ sea stack, it is still connected to the land via a loose, bouldery causeway of rock. The Old Man is made from beautifully red Old Sandstone, 400 million years worth of sediment piled on top of each other and carved by the elements into what we see today. Although the stack as it is today has only been like it for 250 years. Here’s a drawing of what it looked like in 1817.

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The Old Man in 1817.

When I was offered 3 weeks work on Hoy I jumped at the chance to go exploring on the remote Orkney Islands, and to finally have a brilliant excuse to climb The Old Man of Hoy. My plan to climb East Face Route /Original Route (E1 5b) did not evolve so easily though.

After being let down in week 1 by my colleagues wavering confidence, I found a new psyched partner but then again in week 2 my new plan was foiled by the first 3 days of bad weather in a fortnight. I had given up hope that in my 3 weeks I would ever get to set foot on the Old Man. I decided that soloing the first easy pitch and abseiling off was my best way to achieve some kind of success.

Luckily on day 17 of 20 I spied some climbers coming off the ferry at Moaness, while saying goodbye to my group on Friday evening. With an even greater stroke of luck saw them eating dinner on Rackwick beach after a walk to lock up some centre canoes. This was my chance for ticking a route that had been on my list of ‘must do’s’ for a decade. Stepping way out of comfort zone I approached the 3 chaps who were chowing down on steak baguette and asked to join them on their Old Man mission the next day.

Saturday morning came around at 10am I met with John, Ben and Will and stomped over the hill to the Old Man. We climbed as a 4 with 3 ropes, a massive rack and an extra rope was carried in case we wanted to split into pairs later on. After a quick rack up and snack John lead off on the first pitch. The first pitch was an easy amble up jugs and ledges to a wonderful alcove easily big enough for 4, nowhere near as hard as the 4b grade suggests. Pitch 2 holds the 5b crux of the entire route. After making a sandy and exposed down climb and traverse you have to climb up past roof number 1, no real problems there. The 2nd roof however proved somewhat more challenging for me. After ignoring advice to bridge across near the outside I took the more comforting option and crawled as deep into the chimney as possible, which then led to much swearing and contortion as I wriggled back out and over the second overhang. Pitch 3 is fondly known as ‘the fulmar pitch’ and although one vicious fulmar was encountered I managed to escape with just dry heaves, the chaps before me go a soaking in oily fish puke. At pitch 4 we split into the teams, I lead up after John…this was the real fulmar pitch. After deciding to climb off route to miss a particularly nasty bird I carried on leading up on fairly shite gear for 4b. I pulled over the next ledge to only duck straight back down again, 3 fulmars angered by our previous 2 climbers were sat on the ledge at head height. After planning my moves and speeding past them I managed to escape again, the chaps…not so much. Ben managed to get a wet willy from a fulmar, with vomit in his ear and hood he pulled into the final belay. Pitch 5 is a glorious fulmar free corner leading to the top!

After spending nearly an hour basking in the sunshine on the summit we made the 3 abseils back to the floor. The first is simple, but long. The second is short and gets you to the top of the crux pitch and the 3rd is a fully free hanging wonder as you’re spun around on the rope by the wind.

A few hints and tips if you’re thinking of climbing it:

  • Wear clothes you don’t mind getting soaked in stinky fulmar vomit. I was careful, but 75% of our party got a soaking.
  • Take a camera, you’re going to want memento’s of being on the top, it’s pretty awesome up there. Also take loads of layers. The route is in the shade and with the wind that is synonymous with Hoy it can get mighty chilly, even on a sunny summers day I was wearing 4 or 5 layers!
  • Bring really big gear…up to size 5 Camalots and the biggest Hexes you can get your hands on. They’ll come in handy on the crux, even if it is just to swing at the fulmars when they vom in your ear.
  • You can climb and abseil off it easily on 2 X 60m ropes, without having to faff about leaving a trailing rope on the traversing Pitch 2, but it will be 3 abseils if you’re sensible. Abseil 1 is from the summit to either the mid-point or the start of Pitch 3. Abseil 2 is from whichever point you stopped at to the end of Picth 2 (above the crux). The 3rd abseil is free hanging all the way back down to the boulder beach, which leaves a short scramble back up to the base of the route.
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Photo : Ben Wolstenholme

The Old Man lived up to its reputation, it’s a fantastic route even with the sand and fulmar vomit, in fact it only adds to the route. Having gone from anger and frustration at being let down twice and realising that I wasn’t going to get to try climbing the Old Man, I was elated to make it to the top. All thanks to going out of my comfort zone and the kindness of 3 strangers.

 

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The rhythm of the Islands

Week 2 has been a different kettle of fish. Settling into the rhythm of Orkney we spent Monday on the mainland running activities in St Andrews School before heading back to Hoy to take the P1-3 Hoy School class out for a walk, canoe and hot chocolate at Rackwick Bay. The end of the week was spent with a school from nearby Stromness taking part in 3 days of activities including Coasteering, Canoeing, Gorge Walking and Bushcraft.

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Watching seals surf at Rackwick

Our evenings have been beautiful. I’ve spent every evening running before dinner, out towards to The Old Man of Hoy before turning back to run along the beach. After dinner has consisted of films, crocheting, embroidery, reading and walking on the beach to watch seals play in the surf.

The second weekend on the Islands has been much more exciting for me! On Friday night I approached 3 climbers staying in Rackwick Bothy and they agreed to let me join them for their Old Man of Hoy attempt on Saturday, after being let down twice before I jumped at their kindness.

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Very excited to be at the first belay!

Saturday morning I woke up early and spent an hour and a half preparing. The climb itself was epic, you’ll have to wait for its own special blog post to read more about it! Saturday evening after showering and dinner I headed down to the Bothy as an old friend Tom had caught the boat in. A quick catch up before walking back up the hill to bed was a lovely end to an amazing day!

Sunday I lay in until 10 and made myself eggy bread as a treat before a quick run to loosen up sore muscles. In the afternoon we made the 7 mile round trip to the Dwarfie Stane a neolithic tomb from 5500BC. We also spoke to the RSPB woman who was positioned with a telescope to see the nesting Sea Eagles that had come back to Orkney for the first time in 140 years. I learnt that their wingspan is 2.5m! After plodding back our last evening was chilled, food, sunshine and a walk on the beach.

 

A Peedie Adventure A Long Way North

After a week back in Devon soaking up the sun and backlog of work I made the pilgrimage to Scotland once again. Instead this time I drove further north than ever before (to John O’Groats), and then got on a ferry and drove for another 40 minutes, eventually we were on Orkney Mainland.

Another strike of luck meant I had been offered 3 weeks work on Hoy, the second largest Island in the Orkney group. After 4 and half days of travelling and numerous ferries we where finally settling into our home for the next three weeks, Rackwick Hostel.

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Rackwick Bay

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White sand and blue sea

Rackwick Hostel is beautiful, on the west side of Hoy and placed on the hillside above the picturesque Rackwick bay. A 15 minute commute to the east of the Island on the desolate roads in the morning took us into Hoy Outdoor Centre, a small and well equipped outdoor education centre above Creekland Bay, another picturesque aqua marine and white sand beach.

Our first week at work involved Coasteering with seals, Gorge walking with fulmars and seals and seal spotting with excited 10 years olds from the harbour…along with Archery, Orienteering, Bushcraft and Canoeing. The clients happened to be 9-12 year olds from neighbouring Orkney Islands.

Evenings have been spent Mountain Biking (although I carried my bike more than I rode it), walking on the beach trying to catch a glimpse of dolphins and orcas, cooking tasty food and checking out activity sites.

For our first weekend, we hopped on a ferry across to the mainland. Saturday was spent climbing in the sandstone quarry at Yesnaby and getting frustrated at the lack of abseil stakes. Sunday was spent pottering around Kirkwall, eating cake and looking at expensive jewellery. We headed back to Yesnaby to take pictures of Puffins on Sunday afternoon and I spent the evening teaching Kate to crochet!

Our first week has flown by so quickly, although it feels like an age ago that we were packing up Kate’s van ready for the peedie adventure to begin!

 

A fornights work in Scotland

I’m lucky enough that through running a dance company (Ceroc Devon) I can effectively pick and chose which freelance work I want to take on.

Thanks to Adelong Outdoor Education and the wonderful Charlie I was lucky enough to spend a fortnight in Alladale Wilderness Reserve with 12-15 year olds running journey based week long expeditions wild camping in the valley. Thrown in among the hill walking, archery and gorge walking is a whole host of ecology activities including looking at wildlife, peat bog surveying, plant surveying, seeking out badger holes, putting out wildlife camera traps and tree planting.

Alladale Wilderness Reserve is a pretty special place. Brought by a man called Paul Lister, he has the long term vision of re-wilding apex predators like wolves, bears, wild boar and bison into the remote reserve. He has already successful done this in a section of forest which he owns in Romania. He wants the original flora and fauna to return to valley after the tree covering was flattened in favor of grazing land.

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The week long programme throws the adolescents in at the deep end, and the learning curve is a steep one. They come from the comforts of toilets and kettles to pooping on the floor and picking it up and having to start fires to boil water for a cuppa. They sleep in tents, and on the last night bivi out under tarps. They quickly learn that although filling your wellies up and jumping in the river on the first night is fun, it leaves you with soaking footwear for the next 5 days. The group are split into teams, each with specific jobs, the programme looks at making the group self sufficient, to the point where the leaders can step back and watch them thrive. If no one in the group can be bothered to make a fire, collect water, or make shelter then no one gets hot water, dinner or a good nights sleep.

The Alladale Wilderness Reserve really is wild…for several reasons..

1) It’s location. Access is on Land Rover and foot only. There is no signal except on some of the highest summits. If someone where to break a leg on gorge walking you’d be left either using the sat-phone to call for a landrover or hitting the emergency beacon which alerts rescue services immediately. Also a blessing, the children who are normally so glued to screens where forced to play…like children. Evenings where spent whittling spoons, making fires and playing man hunt.

2) The variety and abundance of flora and fauna and how easy it is to spot (or hear). Eagle’s, Cuckoo’s, Snipe’s, Dippers, Peregrine Falcons, Deer, Pine Martins, Badgers, a suspect Otter, Frog’s, Toad’s, Adders, Newt’s, a rouge Racoon (or 2), Hare’s, Orchids, Sundew, Butterwort, Birch, Pine, a whole host of moss, pixie cup and devils match stick lichen are all common place and easy to track down. By the end of the week, we all wanted to hunt down and silence the god damn Cuckoo’s though.

3) The landscape is what I imagine when you say Scotland. A classic glacial U-shaped valley with a meandering, winding river in the bottom, steep sides of heather and birch trees up to rounded and rocky tops, hanging valleys with streams cascading down waterfalls, 7000 year old peat bogs and breath taking views.

Personally a much more satisfying, if exhausting, week. A breath of fresh air from the usual quick 2 or 3 hours sessions twice daily which can become stagnant and repetitive at the best of times. Going on a journey, a proper wild experience is much more satisfying work.

10 days and counting until my next 3 week block of work on Hoy, Orkney 🙂

 

Being priviledged.

I am privileged. I love my jobs. I love being self employed. I love being in charge of my own time and destiny. I love seeing results from the hours you put in. I love being my own boss…kind of.

I am self employed through my own businesses, if no money is earnt, I have no paycheck.

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The Meat Hook Move – Ceroc

The majority of my year is spent running Ceroc Devon with Ivan. Ceroc is partner dancing company in the South West. We have 3 weekly venues, where we run classes, and 4 monthly freestyles, where we just DJ. An average week will see around 20 hours in the venues, and at least that behind the scenes making promotional material, keeping social media up to date, ordering supplies, making routines, booking venues, fixing kit, cashing up tills, emailing clients…the lists are never ending.

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Scrambling on Tryfan – work!

My second role is for Edhouse Outdoors, my own freelancing business offering Outdoor Education Provision in climbing, caving, coasteering, mountaineering, kayaking, canoeing, archery…again the list goes on. Working mainly in the summer, this is more of a top-up but invaluable wage. Plus I love it, I love teaching in the outdoors.

The awesome thing about being self-employed is that if I don’t want to work Wednesdays (as there is no Ceroc on Wednesdays) (and if we don’t have childcare to think about) I don’t have to work. If the weather is sunny and I fancy an hour’s bike ride, followed by a sauna and swim, I can. That’s not to say there is no work to do, but my work schedule is so flexible that if I want to go bouldering I can.

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Me and Hannah – at work!

I feel incredibly privileged to have that freedom. To do a job I love so much it doesn’t really feel like work. Even days spent at the computer are enjoyable, the hours you put in have a direct correlation on how well the business does, and that’s satisfying. I often can’t believe I’m being paid to go Coasteering, or to go caving with amazing and interesting groups.

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Sport climbing – at work…again!

I cannot imagine being stuck in the prison that would be a Monday to Friday 9am – 5pm job. I applaude those of you who can, I however don’t think I will ever be able to go back to normality. Too many years of working seasons, too many years of self employment.

Although self employment comes with it’s own risks. What if we hit another recession, what if Ivan or I fall ill, how will we ever get a mortgage, will we still be doing this when we’re 50, ?

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Oh dear…more work!

For all the huge negatives, I’m pretty darn happy being in charge of my own destiny.

Sprig is finally here…

This week has seen my first outdoor climbs of the season…and how glorious trad climbing has been in the bitterly cold sunshine after months of rain and rain and rain.

There’s something wonderful about the whole rhythm of Trad…the footsteps walking into the crag, the tinkling and clicking of carabiners and kit, the grunts, beta and shouts between partners.

There’s something therapeutic about the birds singing and the sun shining on you, once you’ve reached the belay you thought you wouldn’t.

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Climbing at Dewerstone nearly a decade ago!

There’s something so fulfilling about climbing flowing routes, the movement of upwards motion and the focused head space needed for trad climbing.

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Central Groove, still just as awesome (Photo:Charlie Chambers)

Climbing is the best thing…not since sliced bread…ever. Sometimes I forget this. Sometimes work and weather and family take over and make me forget how much I need to be outside, how much climbing does for my well being.

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Abseiling past a knot practice.

This week I have managed an after work session re-climbing an amazing 3 star HS and grunting up a sandbagged VDiff chimney…also revisiting my old local Chudleigh Rocks and climbing things I’ve not stepped onto for nearly a decade.

Basically trad climbing is awesome.

 

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A chilly Dewerstone (Photo:Charlie Chambers)

 

 

The enjoyment in the suffering.

Scottish Winter climbing is a funny thing. I’m not sure if it’s the feezeing belays, the long leg breaking uphill slogs, the hot aches, the blisters or the spraying of snow and ice down the back of your neck that draws me back in every year. I’m sure that for most sane people the idea of living in a van with your friends for the week/month/season, walking around in the biting wind and snow for 12 hours a day before returning to a semi-damp cold van to sleep, cook cous-cous and attempt to dry out wet knickers is their idea of hell. Yet for some reason there is a small selection of climbers who gamble their own pain and discomfort for an indescribable jackpot. I can honestly say I actually get some kind of masochist enjoyment from a long, battering day out, where nothing was known or predictable, where the 30 seconds of views from the summit was worth the 4 hours of post-holing in polystyrene, that the intense terror induced from some routes is pleasurable…but most likely not while your doing it.

Scottish Winter has a reputation for, at times, being a complete and utter suffer-fest. I think mainly down the conditions, the weather, the amount of snow and ice, the wind, the elemental factors that are uncontrollable. One minute you can be trudging uphill sweating into your thermals, the next freezing on a belay in the full force of a biting northerly. That’s hard to dress for. Scottish Winter in general comes with a steep learning curve.

“Good judgment comes from experience. Experience comes from bad judgment.” Evan Hardin

I think all returning or experienced winter climbers have made those bad judgements. Wearing too much and then shivering the sweat away. Or wearing too little and just shivering. Only packing one pair of spare gloves for a 4 glove day. Forgetting your goggles. Taking boost bars for lunch (the caramel will freeze solid and then are very effective at slicing your mouth apart). Using a camel back. Forgetting your head torch. Not checking an up to date weather report or avalanche forecast. Thinking your toes will be warm in just one pair of socks. Thinking that the next summit will be the actual summit.

This year consisted of a week long trip to get my fix of suffering in the Highlands. My week was spent with 3 wonderful women, Charlie, Jen and Gemma (plus Ollie for a day). There was something deeply satisfying about getting out in a male dominated arena with such inspiring and psyched females. Although we didn’t do the first ascent of the worlds first XIII, we did get out practicing skills for out Mountain Leader Winter assessments, get each other psyched and have a fantastic day out on the CMD Arete.

I have never been a massive advocate for female only courses believing that we can be taught and learn in the same ways as males, and that we don’t need some kind of special treatment. That we can keep up with the guys. It’s something I’ve touched on before in my ‘Great Gender Debate’ post. But alas there was something so refreshing being out with other women who where as keen to be out in the white room.

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It was an awesome week of mixed weather, brilliant company and an awesome reminder of how awesome climbing in every aspect is!

Passion or Obsession?

Where do you draw the line?

Is passion a positive emotion and obsession a negative one?

If I told you about my friend who spends hundreds, if not thousands, of pounds a year on their passion. That their week is centered around when and who they can get it with. That holidays are centered around getting their fix. That there’s almost a whole new language created for it. That their meals and snacks are planned around it. That the majority of their bookcase is full with literature about it. That they can be talking so in depth you no longer have a clue what they’re on about. Their vehicle is chosen because of it. That their wardrobe is often dictated by it.

Not impressed by the long, non path, bush bashing walk in's.

Not impressed by the long, non path, bush bashing walk in that Norway gave us.

Sound familiar. It could well be heroin, or perhaps…..climbing. I know I spend what could be called ‘insane’ amounts of money on racks and climbing paraphernalia. My holidays are centred around when and where I can climb. My bookshelf consists of guidebooks and climbing literature. My mother often smiles and nods along when I’m telling her how amazing this splitter was, but the jams where so painful by the 7th pitch and I obtained a painful flapper. I can happily sit with my rack, a bowl of warm water, a toothbrush, WD40 and some new electrical tape and give my rack an MOT. I’d call a good day out when your fingertips can no longer handle any type of pressure, or when you make it back to your car after having spent the majority of it in a sweating, shivering cycle while having spindrift creep down your neck all day. I can read guidebooks cover to cover making mental tick lists while my partner looks on…I would call it passion.

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Exciting navigation conditions!

I am nowhere near the most dedicated either. I don’t have a structured training regime or diet to support my body through training. I don’t train…at all. I don’t travel to far and distant places (unless Norway and Morocco count). I don’t own a converted van. I would still these call people passionate.

Where do you cross the line from passionate into obsession? When you can’t give it up? When you feel you have to keep doing it regardless? The Oxford English Dictionary defines it as  “An idea or thought that continually preoccupies or intrudes a persons mind”.

By the dictionary definition I would class myself on bordering obsessed then. I would say the ‘continually’ part doesn’t apply to me…but every day climbing will pop into my head. When I see cracks in the stone wall and wonder what grade it would go at, when you turn on Face Book and see pictures of everyone’s winter climbing adventures and get psyched or when your girlfriends strike up a conversation about MIC and you instantly think of the Mountaineering Instructor Certificate rather than Made in Chelsea (although maybe that’s a good thing!).

Seeing the slabs for the frst time!

Psyche on holiday.

Many of my climbing partners would defiantly fit into that category of ‘obsessed’ yet I look up to them with envy and admiration for their dedication to the lifestyle.

Obsession is often synonymous with the negative. Maybe obsession over some things isn’t bad. Can you be at the top of a field without being obsessed. Can you win a gold medal at the Olympics, free solo big walls or climb 9b without obsession? Can you be obsessed without passion? Surely people like Alex Honnold, Ulei Steck and Hazel Findlay along with Jessica Ennis, Michael Phelps and Arnold Schwartzneggear aren’t at the top of their games from luck…they are where they are because of complete dedication to their field, that’s passion….but perhaps also obsession.

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Hazel Findlay  nailing it.

 

So maybe being obsessed over some stuff isn’t so bad.

New Times in Old Devon

So Plas Y Brenin has finished, and after Norway was done and dusted I packed up my life into my Peugeot 206 (minus my bean bag which Hannah has kindly taken custody of) and made the last pilgrimage back down the M6 and the M5 to the lush green sunny fields of Devon.

Moving back to Devon meant moving into a new house with Ivan. I already had a new job lined up with PDC Inspirations (though in the first fortnight of working the name has now changed to Jack Russell Coaching) as a freelancer for 3 days a week. My other 4 days would be divided between days off and working in a more hands on role in Ceroc Devon.

Although Ceroc Devon is fairly new to Ivan and I we feel that now, after 6 months, we have it fairly under control and we know the routine. That doesn’t mean our evenings aren’t spent making promotional and marketing flyers and responding to the gazillion emails awaiting us everyday.

Exeter - Ceroc Devon

Exeter – Ceroc Devon

However, PDC Inspirations or Jack Russell Coaching is new. Jack Russell Coaching runs a whole variety of courses from indoor conference style days for companies to young persons walks across Dartmoor and team development days. Where ever the classroom maybe Jack and the team are focused on getting clients to better understand themselves and how they communicate with the people around them, unlock their own potential and leave them with a positive outlook.

At Jack Russell Coaching we use Insights Profiling to help people better understand themselves, others and learn to work together in a positive way for all. Clients take a questionnaire which then gives them a full 17 page profile on where they lie within the 72 postcodes. It tells them how best to be communicated with, strengths, weakness and much more.

72 Postcodes

72 Postcodes

People come out as leading with one particular colour. Either Fiery Red, Sunshine yellow, Earth Green or Cool Blue. Each colour has certain traits and values, people have all 4 colours inside them, but lead with one.

Insights Colour Wheel

Insights Colour Wheel

I come out as postcode 156, I sit within the grey area in Reformer (Purple) but very close to Observer (Blue). People within the grey area’s mean they have colour energies within them that oppose each other. My 2 strongest colours are blue (analytical and precise) but also yellow (social able and dynamic). These 2 colours oppose each other, and only 9% of the population fall within the ‘grey areas’.

My Insights Profile was incredibly accurate, the profile tells you things about yourself you rarely admit to others. It outlines your strengths and weaknesses, and also areas such as ‘How does Kate like to be communicated with?’

After 6 weeks at Jack Russell Coaching I have gained a deeper understanding of Insights and have seen what a powerful tool it is within teams to get them to better understand how to get the best from people.

Jack has a motto, “Don’t treat people how you would like to be treated, treat people how they would like to be treated”

JRC Logo

JRC Logo