As many of you know, this project was born out of climbing. Me and Em met at the climbing gym in Milan and a friendship bloomed over joint belaying, tackling routes indoors and eventually in some beautiful locations around northern Italy.
Since moving to London last year, I’ve really missed the lack of climbing in my life. The mountains aren’t in sight on a clear day, as they were in Milan and the days of feeling the nibble of rock under my fingertips just feel so much further away.
Of course, I’m living in one of the world’s biggest cities. There are ample opportunities to climb, it’s just about adjusting and being a little creative.
A new bouldering scene
But the majority of climbing walls in a sensible distance to where I live focus on bouldering. For years, rope sport climbing and even longer multi pitch climbing has been where my hearts at. My natural stamina kicks in, I feel the ability to engross myself in the challenge over the longer periods of time and despite the fear, I can rely on the rope holding my falls rather than a crash mat and my despairing knees.
Bouldering, especially the scene where we climbed in Milan, felt populated by the elite, by the over pumped, obsessive climbers who we could only aspire to emulate. It required shorter bursts of strength and the confidence to jump from a not insignificant distance down (although they do encourage you to climb safely down).
London vs Milan climbing
In London, things felt a little different. As a nation, I feel that we’re more keen to participate in casual sport, regardless of our level. So, many in the London gyms were testing out the climbing as beginners, roughing through their first tries and clambering up some nicely laid routes.
This felt a relief. But still, that elite lingered. Usually, to be precise, standing in the middle of the relatively small room and grunting their way through an intense route whilst I patiently waited to complete my considerably easier challenge.
This was particularly prevalent when I was heading the the climbing wall, after work, like the every man, woman, otherwise identifying and their dog. It was packed. You do sort of get used to the mass of humanity constantly surrounding you in London but it didn’t add to my confidence levels that at least a handful of eyes were on you at all times. And lets be honest, most of the time I doubt they’re watching deliberately as there’s only so many places one can look in such a small, bustling spot.
Morning climbs
That is, until I discovered the joys of climbing in the morning. It occurred to me some time after we’d changed the clocks back and the mornings seemed delightfully hopeful, light and bright once again that I take advantage of the 6am opening of the climbing wall and squeeze one in, before I started my working day. Of course, 6am is a little extreme but getting up around 6.30, I calculated I could be there by 7, giving ample time for a 90 minute session.
The first morning I hopped out of bed and over the bridge to the wall at 7am, I was delighted to find a mere handful of early birds in the entire gym, not just in the 2 square meters where I needed to plop down from the wall.
The layout of the specific gym that i’ve been frequenting is in multiple rooms all under train bridges and tunnels. Some are larger, whilst others are smaller and present different problems. For example, I tend to dodge the one where the most pumped individuals queue for the overhang, which is essentially climbing backwards and requires some serious arm and back strength.
Not this time. Why? I was alone! What joy! I could attempt the problem alone and without the fear that my feeble attempts at a novice route were frankly unimpressive and preventing someone much more capable from undertaking their audition to free solo.
Not only was I alone, but I could watch the sun rise and the steady throng of commuters whoosh by on the ring road outside, all whilst the wafts of other climbers morning coffee punctuated my nose. It sounds desperately clichéd, but I felt like i’d rediscovered what I initially loved about climbing: to be absorbed in the place, the problem solving and focus on the next place my fingers would land.
Now of course, I should feel more confident to simply climb, regardless of who’s watching and what they’re thinking. This is the goal that I, and lets be honest, most other women in the climbing wall, are probably striving towards.
But as I work towards that goal (probably with a combination of some hefty therapy and serious self reflective yoga sessions) I will officially be calling myself an early bird climber.
Why not try it yourself? I promise it wasn’t disgustingly early and set me up for the day in a way I’d only recently discovered.