Paul Johnson reckons that real climbers do it in Vibrams.

So there we were below the slab, hoping for respite from a rather damp Nor’ Westerly and observing the moronic chippings as they headed for the greasy crux. I can imagine the scene now. Fireside climbers gathered in the Chequers Inn reading Summit, brandish their copies of the new Rockfax and BMC tomes, united in their condemnation of the improper use of a proper noun and spitting vitriol at the heresy of suggesting you can shelter from a Nor’ Westerly below the Great Slab.

Alas, it will all end in tears. Failing to see the veiled irony of public consensus, the owners of the definitive guide will pour scorn on the idea that the greasy crux can be on anything but greasy chips, while the Rockfax renegades will leap to the defence of a little humour as long as the grade is right. Then things will turn nasty. Still, being hardbound, the BMC volume will carry the day for its supporters. A paperback makes a poor shield when things turn physical.

Outside, the real hard men will know little and care less for all the commotion. These purists of frozen friction, pursuing that elusive V15, will find little of consequence in either volume. Theirs is a higher calling, where both the adjective and technical are banished, and only the experience remains. The sports climbers will also be absent from the debate. Being technically aware and obsessed with only numbers, albeit post-scripted, alphanumeric numbers, they know where the sun is this time of year. They also know a cheap flight when they see one and will have migrated south en mass in search of the Holy Grail of the first 9c+, whatever that is.

Meanwhile, we gaze up at the slippery slab and its moronic chippings. Only, this is less the work of climbing morons than of generations of urban halfwits, stopping off on their way to or from Leek, leaving their indelible stain on Ramshaw’s Leeds Slab. Over to the right, the great juggy overhangs are bearing myriad pink and white scars. Ironically, this is perhaps a testament to their similarity to the modern climbing wall.

Still, some things never change. Today is not the day for delicate slabs. Step a little to the right though and it is definitely a good day for a Vibram soled ascent of Leeds Crack. Easy angled, well projected and slippery as hell, leading to a nice sheltered belay out of the drifting mist. Marvellous. Next comes the slippery thrutch that is the crux of Honest Johnny, or at least it is today. My companion makes light of it, I follow awkwardly and then we take on the demented, boot-scraping struggle of Wall and Groove.

Now we need something really special. My companion has seen the compelling line of Boomerang from the road but never ventured closer. Such an omission must be remedied. The start is steep and green but the runners are good and the thread at the base of the diagonal crack is excellent. He cranes upwards to view the sweeping slab and declares, “People climb mountains for stuff like this.” He ought to know, he’s been to the Dolomites. Then he is gone, only a memory of muddy soles remaining. Shortly after, I follow up the joyous crack in a fashion akin to an overgrown Lemur, more on the crack that in it. Bloody marvellous.

There’s just time for one more, so its round to Green Corner, “pleasant climbing if not too green”. Well, it is fairly green but how hard can a Severe be? About six meters and twenty minutes later I have my answer. Struggling, and I mean struggling, over the slimy top; only to almost slide head first into a large puddle was the crowning glory. Definitely too green. On balance, a good bag for a damp Sunday.

So, what will this brave new world hold for a traditional old fart with 23 years of hanging off pegs and hexes behind him? Well, a winter on the climbing wall practicing this new fangled low clipping with a thick rope, then off to try it for real at Horseshoe Quarry. More power to the BMC for securing it for us. Maybe my daughters will be ready for their first V0 in the summer, so my new bouldering guide might get some mileage, all the more easily with the implementation of the CRoW act. Perhaps I should get a new Limestone guide too and online vote my way up the contentious graded tick list till I get back to something reasonable.

And what will I do once I’ve hopefully returned to my youthful best? Well, the first wet, winter weekend will probably see me scrabbling up Diffs in my Vibrams. Climbing is a fantastically varied scene now and largely better for it but thankfully, some things just don’t need to change.

BMC member Paul Johnston is a 43-year-old engineer now working in Military Satcoms but for a period of a few of years he was an outdoor pursuits instructor. He’s been climbing on and off since 1983 and has a wife (Stephanie) and two young daughters (Cally 8 and Erin 7) who all climb. They live in Chapel en le Frith along with five rabbits and a guinea pig.

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