Best crag in England? Five summer days in North Devon and Cornwall

 Probably the first thing to get out of the way here, right at the beginning, is the whereabouts of Lower Sharpnose Point. It's in England, that much is for sure, but unfortunately (according to the maps) it's also in Cornwall. Now, as a certified Devon fanboy this news did come as a terrible shock, but it's something I'm willing to admit didn't really detract from the experience, and certainly doesn't detract from the climbing.

For these five days, I'm climbing with Tom Waddy; probably one of the two people who can really be credited with teaching me to climb. For a very scared and relatively weak climber like me, climbing with Tom was always a bit of a mixed bag - his main strengths of freaky flexibility, deft footwork, and fiddling in good gear don't always translate to encouraging newbies like me up their first leads or taking them tight when seconding a tricky move, but that's okay. As a recently (slightly) more developed climber, I'm starting to quite like climbing with Tom.

It would be fair to say that our plans for this trip were undeveloped, at best. The week before we meet up, I learn that he's broken his old phone while climbing at Swanage. In a circumstance where most other people would pop into town to get a new one, Tom's solution was to log into his UKC logbook on a friend's phone and use that as his outlet to communicate with the world. This method of communication actually cut through the radio silence surprisingly well, but did result in us cluttering up the UKC logbook with notes like this:

Being at home with my parents for the summer, I'm in quite a civilised mood, so I found it very easy to get on the same page as Tom here and book a nice looking campsite. I go for a caravan park in Hartland which is perfectly situated for many crags on the Culm Coast, and I learn from their website that they even have hot showers! Around a similar time, the penny drops that it's going to be just the two of us in the car so we're going to have loads of room for every conceivable camping luxury - we're truly going glamping! With reckless abandon I throw plush camping chairs, adjustable tables, pots, pans, two (!) stoves, extra towels, and litres of water all into the boot of my Mum's car, which swallows the lot with ease. It's going to be a good trip.

When Tom and Heidi arrive at my house on the evening of Sunday the 17th they both look rather tired, possibly from the week they've just spent climbing in Cornwall. With a little bit of quizzing, I learn that they've camped in a farmer's field last night to fill the gap between the accommodation they were staying in and arriving at mine, and they cooked last night's meal in a cow's feed trough. Dirt bag indeed.

A quick supper of oven pizzas and it's off to bed, but not after the customary gear explosion all over the kitchen floor - a phenomenon that I think left my parents quite bewildered.

Day 1 - Monday 18th August

Baggy Point is a must visit-climbing destination when visiting the Culm Coast (although it isn't strictly Culm!), but it was quite far from our campsite so we head there on the first day with the rationale of avoiding a there and back journey. Surprisingly the drive was two and a half hours, much of it on windy B-roads, which had me arrive at the National Trust car park a little bit fried.

Having foreseen the need to use National Trust car parks, I'd packed my Mum's membership card with me so we could park for free and avoid the extortionate cost. Smugly rolling down my window, I proudly present the card to the discerning parking attendant. She looks at the card, looks at me, and glances back at the card. "You're not Meg Parsons!" she crows, voice dripping with derision, clearly relishing my suffering. "Well no," I reply, "b-but this is her car..." I stutter hopefully. After a moment's hesitation, it's clear I haven't won her over. "That'll be ten pounds to park for the day please". Bugger. I find a space, Tom and I muttering unhappily about the abuse of power.

After strolling up the pleasant approach onto the headland, gaining excellent views of the crag on the way, we find ourselves faced with the quirky half-scramble, half-abseil to access the top of the Long Rock slab. We ab into the base of Lost Horizon - an uber-classic VS that I'd been eyeing up for some time. I set off up it, dumping loads of rack in as I go (something that becomes a theme for the trip). Now, having not climbed properly for about a month, it shouldn't have been a shock to me that I was climbing pretty poorly. I must have exhibited some of the world's worst slab technique, because I spent about an hour on lead and found it quite tricky. It was an amazing route, but it was also a sobering reminder that I'd have to climb a lot better if I was to meet my aspirations on this trip.

Unperturbed by my struggle, we ab straight back down for Tom to tie into the E5 'Soft Touch' to the left of Lost Horizon. The wall looked blank, licheny, and flipping hard; but that didn't put Tom off as he quested up the relatively steady lower section. He manages the thin crux and climbs the runout above with due caution, eventually finding better runners and slightly easier climbing (if you can call grassy ledge shuffling easy!). On second, I reach the crux and am appalled by the tiny size of the razor sharp crimps for the hands and even more worried by the lack of footholds. I'm eventually forced to commit to optimistically using the tiny crimps, and trusting a poor toe jam/smear in the faint crack above the peg. I stand up, feeling optimistic about my odds, but then the foot slips and I know I'm off. But wait, I'm still stood here on the wall!? Looking down, I realise that my left foot has slipped out and landed squarely on top of the peg. I holler up to Tom, amused by my luck, then go about finishing the route.

With the poor forecast and rising tide threatening afternoon progress, we opt to finish off the day with an easy tick and head over to climb Kinkyboots, a quirky and popular VS up the Promontary slab. From the gully stance high above the sea, it only takes me a couple of goes to commit to the legendary fall across the zawn (it is easier for the tall) and then head off around the corner onto the slab. After a little bit of unimpressive route finding, I locate the stance and start bringing Tom over to join me. As he cruises through the starting moves, the forecasted rain appears - liberally soaking both me and the crag. Glad that it's now Tom's lead, I hand him the rack and send him up to the top of the dripping slab. Instead of the little downclimb suggested by the guide, Tom quests off directly upwards into unknown and off-route terrain. He finds the belay stakes and brings me up what I can only describe as a very undesirable pitch; snappy rocky, cams behind thin flakes, boomy blocks, and soaking slopers were standard. 

Deciding that was enough fun for one day (and glad that Tom had six grades in hand), we head off to the shops, and eventually to the campsite. Playing to our strengths, Tom starts cooking and I throw the tent up in the August drizzle. We chat for a while to a very helpful (and very overworked) lady running the campsite, it didn't take long for us to be showing her the guidebook and getting her psyched for climbing too. After finishing our gourmet meal of pesto pasta a la tinned mackerel, we go to bed and fall quickly asleep, dreaming dreams of Sharpnose tomorrow.

Day 2 - Tuesday 19th August

With a big high tide right in the middle of this day, we plan a day of two halves. Firstly, an alpine-ish (6am) start to Lower Sharpnose Point, then a cream tea and lazy lunch in the middle of the day while the tide was in, before a cheeky evening's cragging at Gull Rock.

Rolling reluctantly out of bed for phase one of the plan, we eat a quick breakfast of blackberry porridge (many many blackberries were around) and drive down the narrow lanes past the MOD satellite station to the car park at Duckpool Beach, a journey that would become very familiar over the next few days.

We had the scenic approach (and the blackberries along the way) all to ourselves as we made good time along the cliff top and down to the crag. Urgently trying to make the most of the remaining low tide, we ab in quite efficiently and walk to the bottom of Break on Through (E4 5c). The rock is dry so Tom ties in and flies up it, occasionally remarking on the excellent quality of the rock. I had an absolute blast seconding Break on Through, something about discovering this amazing new rock which just felt sculpted to climb on was really special. Holds appeared exactly where they were needed, taking the edge off the intimidating steep black face and forcing fast and decisive climbing up the obvious live. One of those "climbing's alright innit" moments.

The clouds are a bit more threatening now, but Tom is hungry for more and ties into Fay, another classic E4 5c. He takes a smidge longer on this lead, but is still smooth sailing. I don't remember much about seconding this, except from finding it a lot harder but just as phenomenal.

Above: The Middle Fin gets a thumbs up from Tom

Some time around now, the rain comes in, seemingly working with the tide to put an end to our climbing for the morning. After a little snack nestled under a steep section, we jumar up the static and head to a local tea room for a delicious, albeit quite expensive, cream tea. Knowing that we'll be climbing late, we then return to the campsite and cook up a dhal, so it's prepped for our return.

In the evening, we walk along the boulder beach from the Gull Rock parking, having accessed it down a long unmade track. After a few kilometers of slimy boulder hopping, we do a little traversing round the base of the cliff to Gull Rock to avoid the tide which hasn't quite receded enough yet. It's going pretty steadily until we reach a small zawn filled around knee-deep with swell that would have been very hard to traverse round the back of. Resigning ourselves to the wet feet, we peel off our shoes and socks and plough through, both of us narrowly avoiding slipping over. 

The rest of the approach is straightforward and we find ourselves at the base of the crag that Rockfax describes as "almost instant drying". In typical wrongfax fashion, we discover a crag suffering from an appreciable degree of seepage, so I get myself onto the (just about) dry line of Shivering Timbers (VS 4c). In fairness, the route was OK, but it did feel like a bit of a let down compared to Sharpnose. Other aspects such as the fiddly belay with many loose blocks, and the appauling mass of rotting ab tat that we rationalised as 'probably ok' also detracted from the experience slightly. With room for one more route before dark, I quickly run up Solid Air - another VS that was decent but not too special. We boulder hop back along the beach by headtorch light, avoiding wet feet this time, and drive back to the campsite for some well earned dhal and rest.

Day 3 - Wednesday 20th August

With high tide an hour later and a better forecast, it was all systems go today, despite the strong desire for a lie in. I think we had egg muffins for breakfast, then headed off again down the lanes to Sharpnose. Note that we didn't even consider going anywhere else, it's just that much of a good crag (we certainly weren't going back to Gull Rock).

Choosing the most tide-dependent route first, I get on Dulcima (HVS 5a). It's a super strong line up a slim right facing corner that curves up the entire length of the crag. The climbing is excellent, technical, and well protected; with the crux being some wobbly off-balance moves rather than pulling particularly hard.

After we both have a tactical poo (the consequence of much dhal), Tom gears up for the big tick of the day: Pacemaker (E5 6a), a famous Pat Littlejohn classic. Starting up it, Tom looks quite steady but it's clear that he's getting a little pumped because he's shaking out quite often. About a third of the way up, he goes the wrong way by climbing up and right from the traverse too early. Realising his mistake, Tom rests for a while then reverses the tricky looking moves back down to the break, arranging gear and continuing up the right line. When I come to second it, doing the little diversion to get the gear from the dead-end took too much beans, and so I rested on the rope for a bit which didn't really detract from the amazing climbing as I heaved through the crux. Happy with the route, we ab off the other side of the fin to avoid wading through the incoming tide.

After a little rest and lunch, I rack up for another Pat Littlejohn route, Lunakhod (HVS 5a). I spotted the line on our first visit, but it looked really intimidating so I put it off until today to lead. As it turns out, the climbing was excellent and much easier than I expected, mostly just being around 4c. The only brief complication was my thumbs cramping up at the top which made the steep pull to the left of the roof a bit trickier. Clipping the heavy chain around the block at the top and looking down the 40m pitch was awesome, what a situation!

Tom's next couple of leads were squeezed in at the landward end of the North fin, the last bit of crag that was dry at the base. Tom pokes nervously up Sea Green, a slightly greasy E4 with a worrying mantle low down. Tom doesn't fall off it, but I do on second. I thought it was quite tricky actually, perhaps I need to stretch more. Then there's just about time to squeeze in the well trodden E2, Out of the Blue, before the first waves roll over the rocks at the base (a bit of a nervous belay for me). Seconding this route felt just like being at Kendal Wall really, sustained vert jug pulling - super fun thing to find outside!

With the tide well and truly in, our options for a final route are reduced to Mascon, an E1 on the end of the North fin with a half height belay ledge. At this point, we're pretty knackered and have all day to kill, so we have a rest while I sort the rack and rig the static and Tom reads his book. Arms feeling recharged, we ab into Mascon and I set off on the sequency traverse left from the belay ledge. Reaching jugs in the long vertical crack, I lace the route and plod on up - the crack climbing is pretty good quality albeit a bit filled with spiders webs.

Feeling that the day has been well spent, we lazily pack up and plod slowly back to the car, getting very distracted by the many blackberries along the way. Back at the campsite, we cook a nourishing butter bean stew, get a hot shower, and head to bed.

Day 4 - Thursday 21st August

We followed the same old routine this morning, getting up early-ish to get the best tide, and heading straight to Sharpnose (where else!?). It took us a little longer to get going because we needed to take the tent down and pack the car, but we were still away in decent time. We planned to head to Cheesewring Quarry that evening to bivvy, because it looked like a pleasant spot and a decent venue to swing by on the way home before Tom's train.

We're with a pair on the approach who arrive at the crag just after us, having somehow spent an extra five minutes on the final minute of the approach. As we ab in and Tom eyes up his first route, Diamond Smiles (E3 5c), they join us at the bottom to lead the neighbouring route. Tom flies up Diamond Smiles, seeming to find it all quite easy, while this poor man is left trying to pull past the first few moves of his neighbouring E3. 

Being big and brave, I proceeded to get on The Smile (E1 5b) which was perhaps my highlight route of the trip. The break was so juggy and all the feet were there, so just launching along it felt amazing, stopping only to place gear. There was the little crux in the vertical crack near the end, which I remember being quite warm, greasy, and pumpy; I placed the high gear and down-climbed back the the horizontal break before committing and getting to the top.

Feeling well accomplished with the routes done that morning, it was time for a very civilised lunch. On the same large rock where we'd enjoyed a lovely charcuterie board the day before, we decided we'd really up our game today by heating up last night's stew on the gas stove for a hot crag lunch. I ignite the stove and we both settle in for lovely nibbles while the stew simmers away. Meanwhile, the other team at the crag were having a slightly contrasting time, with the guy having an absolute mare leading Diamond Smiles, dropping a rope to combat drag from quite a strenuous position having already spent ages on lead and just overall having quite a bad time. Unbothered (and suitably smug), Tom and I munch our delicious warm stew, reclining in the sun against our comfortable picnic rock, and wondering what to do next.

Feeling plump and nicely fed, Tom goes for a route on the North face of the middle fin - only the second one of the trip, choosing Twilight Zone (E3 5c). Compared to the incredible climbing we'd had on the trip so far, the rock felt a bit substandard as well as being a bit crumbly. The route was never too tricky though and we both got up and down it in fairly good time, quite happy to ignore that face for the rest of our last day at Sharpnose. 

With the pressure on to get through as many routes as possible before leaving, I decide to get on The Smirk (E1 5b). The incoming tide was slightly worrying for Tom, so I try to lead quickly and decisively (something I rarely do), actually with some degree of success. It did help that I'd already done The Smile, but Tom was safely high above the waves in a flash. We chat on top about whether it's feasible to get another route in and decide that Wraith (E4 6a) should just about be okay if we're quick.

I pre-flake the ropes into the rope bag so that we can do a quick and efficient hanging belay if needed. By the time we'd both abbed in, the waves were starting to splash the starting boulder so we thought it best for Tom to lead the first bit and do a hanging belay in The Smile. This worked especially well with the pre-flaked ropes, except for the fact that I had to tie in mid-line and second the boulder problem start of The Smile with the rope bag on. The "top pitch" of Wraith was incredible to second, moves that were just about on my limit that kept on coming. I was so gassed by the top and glad to get up it clean. 

Satisfied with a day well spent, and aware of the drive to Cheesewring and the shop we had to do, we packed up our bags to head off. Just as we were almost finished packing the bags, I turn around to grab a rope, and in doing so flick my nalgene bottle off the North side of the fin and into the sea. Hmm. I was very tempted not to retrieve it, but decided to venture down in the end and go for a dip. The water was cold, but not as much as I expected as I carefully swam my way into the back of the zawn where my bottle had been washed. Successfully retrieved, I got changed and we walked out from Sharpnose and back to the car one last time. Still going on from that morning was the community sausage sizzle in the car park which was a nice sight to see. Also still in the car park was the same man who'd been dossing there in his car all week - we can only hope that his life has got slightly less boring (and that he's not still there).

Above: I go nalgene collecting, good job they float!

That evening, we drove via lidl (and some excellent shortbread fingers) to Cheesewring Quarry, where we used the last of the daylight to cook pesto, broccoli, and mackerel pasta on a convenient picnic table. I remember this evening being quite cold, but perhaps it was just cold for August. In the dark after tea (and stashing the mackerel-y cookwear in Mum's car - sorry!), we walk to Cheesewring quarry with our bivvy kit, and are astounded to see that another team is still climbing there. Galvanised into action by the psych of these mystery climbers, Tom sets about lamping a 7a+ in the dark. This turns out to be quite tricky and perhaps more effort than it was worth. Eventually, Tom gladly reaches the chains and lowers off. We walk around the quarry looking for a good spot, set up our beds, and quickly fall asleep. My setup consists of my sleeping bag wrapped in the tent outer, which was not too comfortable and generated quite a lot of condensation - not the best.

Above: Tom with the setup at the Cheesewring Quarry parking, with a lovely view of Bodmin Moor.

Day 5 - Friday 22nd August

Sleeping in for much longer than we should have, we both eventually stir when the sun gets too warm to be in our sleeping bags. Keen to squeeze in some climbing before Tom's train at 2, we hang up our things to dry and head over to a wall of short sport climbs on the far side of the quarry. Already becoming apparent is the sweltering heat of the day being reflected back at us by the white granite. 

Optimistically hoping that the climbing won't be too badly affected, I tie in to lead West Point (6b) a route that although being extremely short was somehow still very underbolted. Excluding the lower off, the route had two bolts total, which made for an exciting proposition when every hold was starting to feel as greasy as Jonathan's cast iron pans. I tentatively venture up and do a few moves, but get shut down around the first bolt, not wanting to move above it; I did the only natural thing and heroically lowered off, leaving Tom to get my quickdraw back. Tom's lead goes much better, but he did make it look quite hard. Feeling that I need to tick this route in some way despite the unbearable heat, I reluctantly have a go at top-roping it, which I do manage cleanly.

By now, we are both very ready to be out of the sun, so head over to the South side of the quarry - an area with a handful of starred trad climbs. This feels like a good time in the story to reiterate Tom's track record for the trip so far. A huge volume of hard trad climbing with more E3s and E4s than I can be bothered to count, culminating in an onsight of the famous testpiece, Pacemaker (E5 6a), all without falling off. Not one trad fall. Not one.

Anyway, Tom decides to get on Central Corner (HVS 5b), the jewel in the crown of Cheesewring Quarry, clocking in a mighty 8 or so metres tall. The slightly overhanging laybacking fingercrack bears the ominous guidebook description "easier for the thin fingered" - not a good sign for Tom who had fingers the size of pork sausages. Starting up the route, he places a cam, clips the peg, and stretches up to place a high wire. While standing up on his tip-toes, his foot pops of the sloping granite ledge, sending his body arcing through the air towards the floor, only arrested by the rusty peg. Poor Tom Waddy. 

We both finish the HVS, which I found absolutely desperate to second, and move on to the neighbouring routes. I select a mighty Severe 4c, which might be better described as a boulder problem and reach past the hard move. How whelming. I abseil off the big metal spike at the top because Tom forgot my shoes, then doss around gathering my things while Tom has a mini-bouldering session without any pad. Wholly unsatisfied with our hilariously bad day, we wander back to the car to get Tom to Plymouth station on time.

The drive through Cornwall back toward the Tamar bridge was very trafficky and annoying, but I suppose that's just what I get for ever leaving the great land of Devon. I drop Tom at the station and just like that, the trip was over. Oh well, time to start getting psyched for Pembroke...