In the first of a regular column, John Horscroft takes a look at the world of BMC volunteers.

Planning a Portland trip recently, I reached for my dog-eared Rockfax and indulged in one of those appetite-whetting trawls through the guidebook which is as much a part of a climbing trip as packing the sack. Of course, anything is possible in the realm of the imagination - I will climb that 7a, I will, I will, I will. Then the page fell open at an advertisement I hadn’t seen before. It was for the BMC and, in simple black and white, averred that “We move mountains so that you can climb them.”

Put baldly like that, it seemed a proud boast, verging on the bombastic. Then I began to think about it. About all the access problems that threaten our right to climb every week and the volunteers who deal with them. About the numerous committees that oversee the sport, investigating accidents and technical failures, ensuring training is up to scratch and organising competitions. Then there are the Area Committees, Local Area Youth Coordinators and climbers who turn out for litter-picks. Add to that the President, Vice-Presidents and dozens of other unsung heroes, and suddenly the slogan didn’t look boastful at all. Rather the reverse.

For fear of embarrassing willing volunteers, I’ll name no names, but just consider the work that’s gone into some recent projects. Cheddar Gorge has undergone a massive face-lift recently, involving the replacement of fixed equipment and general route cleaning. Most of this has been achieved by volunteers who’ve had to negotiate with conservation bodies and local authorities of all types. On Southern Sandstone, again after lengthy negotiation with the land owner, High Rocks has been transformed with the help of an army of volunteers.

Meanwhile, the Training and Youth Group have dealt with issues as diverse as child protection policy and the BRYCS. The Guidebook Committee strives to produce definitive guidebooks in a commercial age, Area Committees all over the country give climbers a voice and the Harrison’s Rocks Management Committee wrestles with the Forestry Commission and Sport England over the ownership of the rocks themselves.

Two or three years ago, at the instigation of one of the our local Access Volunteers, I found myself wandering along Stanage Edge in a snowstorm amongst a strikingly diverse group. There were representatives from the RSPB, local bird groups, the Ramblers, Parascenders and Hang-gliders, the North Lees estate and the Peak Park Authority. They were discussing the bird life of Stanage and how to protect it, in, quite frankly, a foreign language. I was freezing and thinking to myself “What the hell am I doing here?” Then I thought about all the meetings that the average access volunteer has to attend and how our ability to climb would be severely curtailed if they didn’t. Time to shut up and listen thought I.

But all too often the average climber isn’t aware of these unsung heroes, which is why I find myself here, nestled in the back of Summit magazine. Each issue I’ll be tracking down a different volunteer and finding out about their work and what makes them tick. Got to dash - the first one’s an Access Rep, and they’re notoriously evasive creatures, I’ll be searching the undergrowth for days.

Cheerio!

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