ClimberMayJune2020

http://www.climber.co.uk may–jun 2020 37

Curving Arête – Some FundAmentAlS

In physics class they were talking about energy;
“Energy cannot be created or destroyed.”
As an illustration of this, they dropped a ball
from a height onto the ground, on paper. Not onto
paper, but on paper, an illustration. Even dropping
a real ball would have been too much excitement
for Big Gerry Quinn class. But as this ball dropped,
and its speed, sorry, velocity, went from 0 to
whatever metres per second, it underwent a
transformation of energy. When Gerry theoretically
held it, the theoretical ball was at a certain height
above the floor, with no velocity, it had what is
called potential energy. When he dropped it, and
it sped up, it hit the theoretical floor with a good
speed. This speed represents what is called
kinetic energy. According to Gerry, what has
happened, is that the ball’s energy has been
transferred from potential energy to kinetic
energy. Between starting to fall, and hitting the
floor, it had some of each. Gerry then told us that
the energy at each point of the ball’s fall, when
the two types are added together, is the same.
“The energy at every point is equal to one!”
proclaimed he, in that way that physics teachers
have of confusing you again, just when you think
you have understood. One what? I wondered.
“What happens when the ball bounces, Sir,”
asked Maurice Gorman. “This is only O-Level,
Gorman. Come back in A-Level and I’ll tell you.”
Big Gerry’s lesson was strongly in my mind
one evening at Black Rocks. Curving Arête is one
of those bold gritstone solos you want to have
done but not sure if you want to be doing. Yet
here I was. Seen from the side, it really is a
perfect curve, a 90-degree arc, the horizontal
edge being an overhang, and the vertical edge
being Dawes’s Gaia. Thus, the start of the arête
is vertical and the end of it is horizontal. Let me
get back to Gerry’s physics lesson. Being vertical,
the first moves are the hardest, and get 6b.
They involve getting your left foot in contact
with the arête, which is problematic if you are
not wearing stretch trousers, as the arête begins
a few feet off the ground. Now, the left hand
holds the arête in a layback fashion, and you
start to heeeeeave with all your might, and
some of your might not, and try to get established
over the overhang. On my first go, my might
was not more than my might, and I slipped off.
Not pleasant. My shin hit the overhang, and as
my trouser cuff rode up, my shin surfed down
a sharp horizontal edge. I managed to land
abruptly in a standing to attention attitude on
a shelf perched above a chasm, and if my head
hadn’t smacked into the hanging arête and sent
me backwards, I might have tumbled forwards
into it. I thanked my lucky stars as they revolved
around my head cartoon fashion.
I checked for damage. A long painful tongue
of crimson licked up my right leg; what had been
on my leg was now gathered on the horizontal
edge; an agglomeration of skin blood and hair,
compacted together to resemble a piece of meaty
down. I pulled it off the edge and threw it at

another wall, and it stuck. But still, in terms of

gritstone E5, for this is what it was, and to suit

my story, although it is a fairly hard move, this

fall can be regarded as fairly safe. Let’s say we

can give it a grade; E1 6b. After this, as you

move further up the arête, and the angle gets

less steep, then the difficulty also decreases.

However, to make up for this, you are getting

ever higher above a bad landing. Thus, as the

physical difficulty decreases, danger goes up.

We can take this back to Big Gerry Quinn’s

theoretical ball, and see as his potential turned

to kinetic, giving the constant energy of one, we

can see that the technical/danger combination

of Curving Arête gives each move the same

difficulty. We can call this difficulty ‘one.’

I recall one point along the way, at just over

half-height, when the grade would have been

about E3 5b, a high step must be made onto

the ever-flattening arête. My move up was a bit

abrupt, and I nearly fell over the top of the arête,

which would have plunged me over the edge

and down past the crux of Gaia. Have you ever

seen a man taking an E8 fall off an E5? Comical.

Ever onwards. On the last few feet, the climbing

is getting easier and easier. By this stage, I was

on all fours, scrabbling along on the horizontal.

I would put the technical difficulty of the last moves

at about 1a, but it is here where the climbing

reaches its true E5 level. I was pondering the

effects of a slip at this point, and about just

how much kinetic would be generated from

a fall from the 60ft of potential I had amassed

myself. Theoretically, of course, as I managed

to pull the 1a move out of the bag and jabbered

to safety. n

Black Rocks – Rejoice

Nigel Prestidge on the upper section

of Curving Arête (E5 6b) where moves

get easier, but the ground becomes

more distant. Photo: Ian Smith