We continued our tour of the south west by taking in the joint Rucksack Club / Climbers Club meet at the perfectly-positioned Count House atop Bosigran. It kinda made sense, as we were in the right half of the country, but in the event it was a tortuous 6hrs from Portsmouth to Penwith!

Anyway, we arrived early for the meet to find we’d got the place to ourselves – there aren’t many better spots to park your van for a while!

A few household chores on a good drying day…

… Helen had picked up a bit of a twinge from Skeleton Ridge – too much time in the saddle – a cheval! Luckily, Richard arrived to rescue a climbing mission on a glorious day, and we wandered down with no fixed plan. The eye and ambition is inevitably drawn to the magnificent central expanse of towering orange granite. Richard hadn’t done Suicide Wall, and I was happy to oblige – especially as I could play the double joker of “I’ve done it before” and “I’ve got a dodgy ankle” to delegate leading duties on the crux.

I ran the first two pitches together, revelling in the brilliant Coal Face pitch – extraordinary rock and a tad sweaty in the full sun and sheltered from the breeze. The famed Pedestal Stance is vaguely reminiscent of something you’d find on El Cap (okay, you’ve got to screw your eyes up a bit, wind down your sense of scale, and blot out the sea, but you know what I mean…)

It’s a great spot to admire your leader at work on the traverse pitch – thin moves where a reach makes all the difference, followed by an undignified lurch onto the belay ledge (Beached Whale is probably the best beta, but I went for a feet first grovel).

The crux pitch might only be 20ft but it packs a real punch, and the passage of feet have left the footholds with a sheen like those no-tex holds that are now the curse of any wall session. The guide suggests “very hard but well-protected” but neglects to point out that the crucial cam placements take up the hand holds. Confession – in my case I should say “supplement” the hand holds. Not content with that struggle, Richard pressed on to run the final pitch together, but accidentally took the Paragon finish instead. An easy mistake to make, prompting grumblings of “4b my arse” – even 5a seems like a sandbag. Good lead!

The following day we set out with a very modest agenda to gently test Helen’s leg injury.

We passed by the potential objective of Commando Ridge – tempting in terms of difficulty but beyond the desired level of commitment for the day.

Instead, we homed in on Alison Rib – a route we’d last climbed almost 40 years before. What an absolute belter, especially the first pitch, with its huge jugs and chicken-heads making for easy progress through improbable territory.

Enough to confirm that Helen was on the mend but should be treading with caution, prompting another rest day. This time, James and Rich came to my rescue. James is putting the finishing touches to the Chair Ladder guidebook, so knows the place like the back of his hand. Who better to have along on the magical mystery tour of Chair Ladder Girdle?

There’s a magnificent panorama of Chair Ladder in the kitchen in the hut, which James has painstakingly stitched from high-res drone images. Here’s my best guess of where we went, superimposed on a snap of that photo. Health Warning – I’m only guessing!

A casual 2pm start saw us heading down into the bowels of a boulder-choked chimney behind a huge tower…

… before questing out and downwards to round the arete and emerge onto the sunny sea-facing aspect.

I got carried away on the next pitch, rather than stopping at the first opportunity, resulting in much rope drag (not helped by my recalcitrant sports rope) and consequent faff (further doesn’t always mean faster!)

Here’s Rich exploring off rightwards once we’d unravelled ourselves.

A short rap off a good thread (downclimb possible) brings you nearer to the sea, and we were starting to motor. There’s a surprising amount of up and down for a girdle, as it picks out the line of least resistance around a couple of major gully systems.

Notable bits of climbing include the Giants Steps and this flake pitch to avoid the horror of the adjacent offwidth chimney.

A final joggle brings you to this splendid perch on the arete of the last main buttress…

… from which an unlikely looking line rightwards yields to a hidden gangway and a stunning tiptoe through lichen-covered granite, luminous in the setting sun.

The final pitch is both airy and hairy, but we’re soon coiling ropes atop the crag.

A grand day out! The bare stats of around 300m of Severe climbing don’t really do it justice. Worth seeking out!

Back in time for sunset beers on the terrace of the hut.

Next morning, Helen is sufficiently recuperated to report back for active service, so we head for Kenidjack. West Penwith’s crag of choice if you fancy Cornish climbing without the granite.

Magnificent views over to Cape Cornwall…

There’s a good boulder to rap off, which is just as well as this particular ab stake has seen better days – makes you wonder what else you’ve trusted your life to on the assumption of something vaguely solid sticking out of the ground! Be wary of what lies beneath! Particularly harrowing as the other belay stake is currently residing at the Count House due to the drought having loosened it enough to remove by hand.

Suitably secured (you hope) it’s a scrattly rap down gravel and grass until you reach the lip of the crag proper, and only then does the magnificence of the main wall reveal itself. What a stupendous piece of rock.

We did In The Gallery, HVS 5a and quite a stiff proposition at the grade, followed by Saxon – the classic of the crag and a much steadier and better protected route at the same grade.

Here’s a lad on Rock Dancer, E1 5b and also superb.

That’s it for our Cornwall Caper, apart from a memorable trip to Gurnard’s Head which deserves its own post… To be continued, as they say!