In the British climbing community, you’re bound to have heard of Lofoten at some point. Usually described as being one of the only places on the planet that has more rainfall than North Wales. Tales of terrible storms, weeks spent sat in a tent waiting for dry weather and mind-bending frustration at poor conditions conjure […]Read More Late-season luck in Lofoten.
A faint orange ribbon had been growing across the eastern sky for nearly an hour. Sat there, shivering in my bivvy bag the warning words of the guide book echoed around my head. ‘Long’ – ‘Serious’ – ‘Remote’ “Yeah but if we split it into two days we should be fine – there’s a huge ledge above pitch […]Read More Tape, Tea and Taylor Swift on the Storpillaren
“Go to Hell”. In England: [insult] instruction. Requests the target of said insult proceed directly to endless burning torture in the afterlife. In Norway: [advice] suggestion. Informs the target of said advice of their best chance to climb dry rock in the seemingly permanent precipitation of the Trondheim area. After 2 and a half weeks of thrashing […]Read More Going to Hell
“Once you get the moves up the slab there’s another rest.” Said Henning, a tall Norwegian climber with quite the knack for throwing in kneebars where they shouldn’t exist. The German gave him a quizzical look. “Slab?” He questioned. “Its, ‘technical wall climbing’!”. He was right of course, but it seems anything in Hanshelleren cave […]Read More Cave Life