Introduction…
This is going to be a bit of an experiment. I have decided to write a series of very short articles on some of the climbing gyms I have climbed at. It’s pretty hard if not impossible to replicate the outdoor climbing experience in a climbing gym, so it’s best to not even bother trying to make the comparisons. They are separate things; like instant coffee and real coffee. Both beverages, both containing caffeine, both sharing some remote base element, but the similarity stops there.
If you are a rock climber one thing you probably have found yourself drawn to is the actual kinesthetic of vertical locomotion. The very movement feels good somehow. Now you may find yourself in a variety of situations that prohibit real rock climbing. There may be spells of inclement weather or this thing called winter. Even more dire, you may actually live in an area where there unbelievably is no rock climbing within several hundred miles or even more. Finally the ultimate imbroglio… a combination of the two.
My recommendation is simple. Move with all haste to an area that has abundant natural climbing, and a long season. You will be more fulfilled and it’s the only way you will ever get good. Failing that you may have an option in the indoor climbing gym.
Just because it’s not real rock climbing, on real rock, in the great outdoors, doesn’t mean that it’s not hard, nor fun. Just because the ‘routes’ are just coloured blobs of plastic and were put up by some kid working in exchange for climbing time, doesn’t mean it’s not hard. And people get hurt all the time climbing in the gym, sometimes very seriously hurt. Granted it’s not the same as run out trad on shaky gear on crap rock in bad weather, but beggars can’t be choosers as they say. You can have fun in the gym if you just try. Please just don’t be sad when a 13 year old girl flashes your red point project as her warm-up.
The Castle
I found The Castle on line. It seemed to have a bunch of variety and it was reasonably easy to get to. I was able to walk to the train station from where I was staying in Cambridgeshire. It was a quick ride into the city where I got off at Finsbury Park. I had printed out google map directions so I was all set for the walk from there through the neighbourhoods of North London. Although no road in England follows any of the cardinal directions it only took me about half an hour to find the place. And holy smokes it looks like a castle. It was at one time a Victorian era water pumping station. Now it is a three story climbing gym and more…
It boasts over 450 roped climbs and about 250 marked boulder problems. They also have a whole bunch of training equipment as well. This place is huge. They have a gear shop and an organic kitchen serving food.
So I saunter in all North American bad-ass like and plop down my hard earned pounds ready to sign a waiver and get to some bouldering… Not so fast lad. You have to actually read all the boiler plate stuff about the rules and climbing safety; because they test you on it. And if you don’t pass… too bad so sad! Guess what? I didn’t answer all of the questions correctly. They were kind enough to send me off to the corner to re-read the material and give me a second chance, because of the language barrier. Really? Well I passed the second try. It was early in the day so at least the place wasn’t packed yet, but there were a fair number of people there already. But with hundreds of problems there was never any issue with crowding. I bouldered for close to 3 hours straight. Basically until my body gave out. It was kind of interesting in that the boulder problems had mixed grades. Some had V-ratings, and some had UK ratings, and others Font ratings. It was mostly trial and error. Either I could get up something or not. That was just fine. We shouldn’t get all bent out of shape in chasing numbers anyway. Especially on some random and temporary blobs of plastic.
I bought a swell pair of pants in the gear-shop and talked smack about Canadian Ice versus Scottish Ice with one of the shop staff, before I made my way back to the train station. I spent the ride north quite pleased with myself at all of the good climbing I had done and anticipating a couple of pints of real ale and a rabbit stew at the pub later on.