Portland 2024 -- A report of two perspectives
Sport climbing : As told by Joe
A weekend of sunny sport climbing (sort of)
For me and many others this was my first trip with the club, and the lead-up was spent tentatively checking the weather which changed erratically by the hour but it was generally looking very British (aka soggy). But after a week of emails with only an artistic scattering of spelling mistakes and a heavy dose of passive aggressive instructions
to be ON TIME for pick up, we gathered outside Sainsbury’s looking only slightly homeless. The irony was not missed when Beth and Anissa (the fear of who’s wrath had motivated us all to get up at such an ungodly hour) rolled up unfashionably late because Beth wanted a lie in! 2 hours of napping later BUMC descended upon the cheery isle of Portland, Jen’s car sounding like it was on the verge of combustion.
The access to the sport crag was… interesting, its always good when your navigator leads with the phrase “I think it's this way?”! At which point we were introduced to the infamous Portland mud. Jack and his once white vans kindly showed us where the slippy bits were by launching himself acrobatically into a bramble bush. More mud, some funky via ferrata esc descents and some questionable helmet fashion, (George the helmet-on-backwards look suited you mate) we arrived at the crag. Thankfully most of the lines were dry, not that we knew what any of them were. Between us we only had one phone with Rockfax and no guide books (we’re very good at this climbing stuff we promise). That however wasn’t going to stop us and after adopting a Russian roulette style “sod it that looks like a 5” approach we started throwing some top-ropes up. Which resulted in me quickly getting humbled by a grade I’d prefer not to talk about. I’ll be honest from here on in it all became a bit of a blur of rock, rope and caramel wafers. Amy decided that drizzle and single digit degrees called for a sports top, whilst the rest of us hid in puffers, (psycho). Emma introduced me to her sentient pulsing shoulder, making a big song and dance about it before cruising up the route that had been beating me up for the last half-hour (rude). Jack had some impeccable timing as he clipped in to clean said route just as the rain rolled in, we were all very sympathetic. Rueben climbed one singular 3c and called it a day (his words not mine). I was introduced to our beloved social sec, who made it a whole 0.2m of the ground. In fairness it sodden but it does generally help if you don’t bury your shoes in mud before pulling on.
After the second drenching of rain the majority of us sane people decided to beat a retreat and head for the pub. The slab climbers (explained everything really) chose to carry on climbing through the downpour. For their efforts they were rewarded by a stunning last blast of sun over the sea. I on the other hand was rewarded by a lot of
mud and a small heart palpitation, courtesy of one vertically challenged Climbing Sec, cheers mate.
Day 2
After a restful night sleep that was at no point interrupted by snoring akin to that of an elephant with sinus issues, we headed out for another day of sport climbing. The forecast had once again been turbulent and we were expecting another day of sea-mist and rain. When we opened the van doors and were greeted with fabulous sunshine it was like 37 (large and smelly) kids in a sweet shop! As we turned the corner the sea opened out before us sparkling in the sun. Perhaps that was what hypnotised the merry band of boulders as they careered off down hill in completely the wrong direction (we all know boulderer’s brains aren’t properly developed, they can only remember
5 or 6 move’s so you can’t blame them really). We’ll gloss over the fact our fearless leader was at the helm for this misshap. Even after Sam; the oracle of all reliable knowledge, told them they were going wrong they carried on, shouting back the famous last words: “We reject you criticism, we’re going this way”. So as they had a first aider we let them go on their little adventure.
The rest of us used the thing between our ears and headed off to the crag, regretting the multiple layers we’d shoved on that morning. Feeling like boil-in-the-bag climbers we arrived at The Cuttings, where there was no mud to be seen, flat ground to belay on and not perched on a cliff face. Compared to the day before it was paradise! Soon however we found the catch, every single route was sandbagged to seventh hell. I have never been so pumped and terrified leading a 4c. Sadly my beta of crawling along a muddy ledge like a terrified toddler didn’t catch on. The climbing though was amazing and the day once again dissolved into a blur, this time one of sunglasses and tshirts.
The top-ropers had it out with some dastardly 5s and 4s which I refuse to believe were true to the grade. A lot of us had our first introduction to outdoor crack climbing, which was a laugh… for those watching anyway. The fact that the cracks were slimy and soggy added to the drama, it was more Slide Boyz than Wide Boyz. Emma pulled out the tekkers on an epic (otherwise known as terrifying) contortionist 6b which was “slayyyy” (Mayouf et al., 2024). Amy followed suit on an equally epic 6b, letting out the occasional power squeal as she went. Only for Emma to ‘tall-person-it’ an hour later muttering the odd “sorry Amy” as she reached her way past the crux. Sam spent what seemed like 45 minutes prancing around on a 5c, before cruising up a 7a on lead like it was nothing. Evidently he got a restful night sleep in his soundproof broom-cupboard ;) and Anissa did some climbing, which I’m told is a rare sight on BUMC trips. Eventually we were forced to pack up by the fading light, so with the sun casting magnificent red scars across the sky we reluctantly headed back to bath, I don’t think we could have asked for a better send off for a Portland trip.
Obviously a massive thank you to everyone who organised the trip and made it happen, I can’t imagine the amount of time and Excel spreadsheets that go into these.
- Joe Whittingham
And now for the boulderers: Jian Xin
We woke up bright and early (for students) to leave at 10am for a 2-hour drive to Portland. On the way, we found a road with a spectacular number of pheasants with a death wish, but no birds were harmed (that I know of) during our journey south. The rain-map showed some dicey weather, with Portland scheduled for rain at 2pm, just as we'd be climbing.
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Arriving at our destination, we managed to park with only one car getting told off for blocking a driveway. The first day's climbing took place at Battleship Beach, which involved a bit of abseiling thanks to a well-loved rope and a path that had seen better days. The boulderers made their way to Buzzard Block while the sport climbers opted for the neighbouring Blacknor South crag.
Only an hour after we started bouldering, the rain decided to make an appearance. The boulderers escaped to a nearby pub at 3pm to avoid being shut down by wet V2s. By 6pm the hardest sport climbers had joined the rest of us in a village pub, well and truly filling it up with our group. We hastily left the pub before we could get any more annoyed looks from the locals of Portland.
We navigated to the church where we'd be spending the night. Finding the entrance turned into a bit of a quest, with 3 entrances all apparently locked. After 20 minutes of standing outside, scoping out climbing routes on the church wall and waiting to confirm this was the right one out of Weymouth's 20 (!) churches. We then settled down to eagerly await the arrival of our fish and chips. The portions were massive, and when the chips were down.. we couldn't finish them. After that followed an evening filled with intense foosball and snooker matches, as well as some lovely piano-ing from Amy.
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During a game of "15 people throwing and catching three footballs at once," my glasses met their demise, to everyone's surprise. Thankfully they were expertly patched up with some good old climbing tape, (thanks Emma!) The games room became a bedroom for 30 dozy climbers and unsurprisingly was filled with a symphony of snoring. You know who you are [name redacted].
On arrival to The Cuttings, our day 2 destination, we discovered the sun was making up for its absence yesterday and the sea breeze was a welcome addition. The path to the top rope/sport climbs was said to be a straightforward, 10-minute walk. Unfortunately, a third of us went down what can only be described as the wrong way. After 20 minutes of walking across loose rock and pushing through dried bushes, we caught sight of what looked like the sport climbing cliff-face. Looking like any paths towards it would be winding if they even existed, we decided to track back, and surprisingly, no jackets were ripped. Much sunscreen was applied.
After what Google Maps' timeline reports as an hour, we found our way back up the stairs and almost immediately discovered the sport climbers were a stone's throw away. The lost 1/3 jumped into the sport and top-roping, and the day became significantly more enjoyable! Cracks were jammed and guidebook grades were complained about.
I eventually remembered that I don't have the stamina for roped climbing and wandered over to the boulderers, but had sadly missed Brennan's send of his old enemy: Terminator (he tried it last year). Kishan also sent Terminator and quote: "it was really hard but I cruised up it". Some say the echoes of his power screams can be heard to this day. The Boulder Bros™ continued boulder broing on the burly, Lost Decade ([https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WCn7AXPVa8Q](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WCn7AXPVa8Q)).
Meanwhile, 10 of us nicked some pads to look for other boulders. After some back and forth through the sorely missed brambles and loose rock, we decided to try out a boulder that turns out to have been hiding a stone hut. Inside were some mouth-watering empty crisp packets, but we decided to climb on to the roof (V8 in your gym) and set ourselves up for an excellent view of the sea.
Before the long drive home, Kishan put on his crack climbing gloves to do a first ascent of the rock supporting the partially collapsed Rufus Castle (collapsed before we arrived, promise). On the drive back we found out that Jen's car sounds like it was being powered by a screaming squirrel but I'm told everyone got home in one piece. And so ended an excellent climbing trip to Portland!
Jian Xin signing off :)