It’s been about 9 or 10 years since I chalked up my hands and laced up the old Boreale booties and tried to haul my aging butt up anything steeper than than a 5.4. Yet the harness is still in great shape and the booties still fit, and as chalk is already about 1000 years old, applying it lavishly to my sweaty palm felt as fresh as I when broke in the ball all those years ago on Poke-O-Moonshine.
My old climbing partner and the only guy I’ve ever felt comfortable seconding on a outdoor climb was back in town for a wedding and had organised our day out to Val David. We met up at La Porte du Nord with his current climbing partner Justin and made our way to the same cliff and rock face where Brian and Nancy got married all those years ago. The day was a little fresh and the rock face had mostly dried off well, by the time we had picked out the routes and set up the top ropes, we each got int about 3 to 4 climbs including a nervous abseil with Kata bag full of expensive glass to take all these shots.
I’m not going to lay any claims of prowess or spider like agility, but I think I did a pretty good job of getting 
my old arse up the cliff. Blood Hands earned its name well, opening up my knuckles and and my thumb pretty well as I tried to jam my fist in crack that was definitely never intended to be assaulted by 16 stone, 6 foot 4 inch father of four. The guys faired a lot better than I did and managed to get over this ledge on Bloody Hands and we all managed to walk up the corner next to L’Aiguille (The Needle). All in all a great day out and the pint of Keith’s at the Manoir was very well deserved. The climbing bug has bitten me again and I’ve speant a good part of the weekend scouring the MEC site for beeners, slings and a new chalk bag.
I can promise you one thing though I will NOT be borrowing Denise’s leggings anytime soon.
