Scattered showers across the country prompted the inevitable journey along the A55. Stan and I try to schedule a Gogarth trip each year in the early Autumn, once the bird bans are lifted and the worst of the detritus has been washed from the crags. Our annual pilgrimage into the Land of Steepness and Looseness usually involves Red Wall, but on this occasion we opted for its neighbour: Mousetrap Zawn. Equally outrageous rock architecture, with the added bonus of a sea-level start and “rap-in / pull the ropes” commitment.

My only previous encounter was many years ago with the eponymous Mousetrap. Mantrap, E3 5b, takes the same line of weakness to get through the initial overhangs before branching out rightwards to confront the wild, contorted territory above. The guidebook description sounds ominous: “A totally absorbing route, the main thrust of which is the compelling and rather frightening chimney.” Stan had done the route a decade ago and was keen to lead the other pitches this time, so guess who was in line for the chimney…

You rap from the west end of the top of Red Wall, and unless you’ve got a 100m rope this involves a 70m rap followed by a further 30m using your climbing ropes, all down a loose, dripping wall, accompanied by the nagging thought as you pull your ropes: “I hope we don’t need to try to sketch our way out back up this way…”

Down at the beach, the sea was in a frenzied torment – no danger of a wetting but highly atmospheric and quite deafening.

The view upwards, through grotesquely folded bands of tortured red rock, resembles a giant raspberry ripple Vienetta ice-cream that someone’s attacked with a machete.

The first pitch, shared with Mousetrap (and perhaps the psychological crux of that route), follows a straightforward if dusty ramp line before launching out rightwards onto the wall of grey talcum powder to reach the sanctuary of the first of the chimneys. These are composed of quartzite spikes and flakes, set into a matrix of the aforementioned talcum powder, so “sanctuary” is perhaps an over-statement. You head up the chimney for a short distance before breaking out rightwards into a parallel chimney, then repeat this manoeuvre a couple of times to arrive on a red slab above the huge overhung cave, about 30m above where you started. Here’s Stan approaching the first stance.

… and a close up look at the “rock” that you’re climbing (does it remind you of the Cadbury’s Flake advert from the 80s?)

Here’s Stan following Mousetrap via more “Knight’s moves”, right, then up, before branching off rightwards…

… to beneath the “rather frightening chimney“

This is indeed somewhat ominous – more so because the usually reliable Gogarth micro-climate picked that exact moment to douse us in a squally shower – luckily talc is well known for its moisture absorbency! Getting established in the chimney itself is probably the crux, and actually involves a move or two of tricky climbing. Beyond that, the climbing isn’t desperate, but there really isn’t much in the way of holds that you’d want to pull down on (and the first potato-sized block of chalk that comes away in your fist certainly discourages pulling outwards!) Here’s the view down towards Stan from a brief respite about halfway up the chimney:

Sandy back-and-footing and maintaining at least three points of contact at all times are helpful techniques for progress, along with a creative (and optimistic!) approach to gear placement. Top tip – take a couple of #3/Blue and maybe a #4/grey cam (I rather wished I’d had them) and look beyond the chimney to the slightly more solid walls either side for options.

Around this time, unknown to us, a couple of visiting climbers, Will and Dom (a different Dom – you can’t have too many!), were scoping out the zawn and got some tremendous atmospheric shots of our adventure – all the photos taken from distance are Photo Credit Will!

I was pretty pleased to escape the confines of the chimney and pull out onto the red wall above – spot the look of relief…

The final pitch also gets 5b and involves quite a long traverse rightwards on reasonable holds to move up towards the arete and outflank a bulge:

The last 30ft or so up the crumbling ‘easy ground’ were probably the most harrowing of the lot!

We certainly felt we’d made the most of a slightly dodgy day to get 400ft of extreme ledge-shuffling under our belts – something of a reminder of why they call it ‘Adventure Climbing’, leaving ‘The Rat’ well and truly fed for another year until the bird ban is lifted next autumn and the cycle repeats again!

Talking of ‘annual migrations’ gives me an excuse to post this great cartoon from The Rucksack Club’s resident cartoonist, Doug, commemorating another successful annual Gogarth Meet:

Rucksack Club Gogarth Meet

If you’re inspired, come and join in the fun in 2023 on 10 June!