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Over the years of commuting to and from work in Ilkeston team Alpkit has driven, cycled, bused, walked and run, but there was one mode of transport that we all participate in which we had overlooked.. the canoe. Fortunately the Erewash canal passes just a short distance from our front door, joins the river Trent and continues on to Beeston where I live. It looked like the challenge was on.

I was joined by Jim and Jenni for the trip and rather than using the small playboats which would have been a dog to paddle we borrowed some sea kayaks from our friends at P&H Sea Kayaks.

We put in just above Potters Lock at 4.30 and set off enthusiastically aiming to average 4mph which would bring me home around 8pm. Jim commented that the front of my boat looked low in the water, a knocking noise made me think the bulkhead was loose, and as we got out to portage Potters Lock I found out why. Comedy Nick had hilariously placed a 10kg rock in the front of my boat. This rock had sentimental value so I couldn’t ditch it overboard. Paddling was fine but the portages were going to be heavy!

On such a narrow stretch of water you are always going to come into contact with other river users; human, beast and kids! The vast majority were cool, we tracked a canal boat until passing it around a lock and received friendly banter from cyclists, joggers and punters who were enjoying a quiet pint outside one of the many pubs we passed. We came under fire by kids in Ilkeston who threw stones and a length of 2×2 as well as 2 kids who tried to catch us with their fishing lines as they tracked us along the towpath before Jim made a move to the bank. The final peril was coming up against a family of Swans who obviously owned this section of canal.

Our small flotilla continued passing the Greens, Gallows Inn, Hallam Fields, Stanton, Sandiacre, Dockholme and Long Eaton Locks where Jenni was to leave us. The number of locks had slowed our pace but we thought we would speed up on the Trent.

Here the canal started to widen and the water became clearer. Reaching Trent Lock we stopped for a cheeky half before joining the wide Trent, a shock after being on the canal which was barely wider than the length of our boats. I think this was my favourite section of the journey, the sun was starting to set, space opened up in front of us and it felt like we had escaped the towns into a wilderness. River life was still active with flocks of geese squawking over head circling Attenborough nature reserve, while a group of 25 young swans were strung out in a line along the river. Their playful nature gave some small concern as it looked like they were lining up for a mass takeoff and we were on their runway.

We reached the lights of Beeston Marina as darkness fell with tired arms. As someone commented on our Facebook page.. Dream – Lived!

Distance: 20.6km (12.8miles). Height gain: -23m. Time: 4hr 15min.

I had heard about the Galibier but I was surprised to find myself camped wout on top of it. There were a couple of marquees, obviously something was happening. By morning there were more people, more cars, more marquees. It was the Briancon sportive, the road is closed for the ascent of the Galibier, so I was stuck there until it finished, not that I minded I felt satisfied with what I had achieved around Mont Blanc.

As the road bikers ascended the hill I noticed a few on mountain bikes crossing in from the hillside. This looked much more interesting, so I pulled out my French map and indeed there was an unpaved road that also climbed up the pass. I made a note to come back later in the week and give it a shot.

The sportive was a real spectacle and my first experience of such an event.

Roll forward a couple of days and I set off from le Monêtier-les-Bains. The first section followed the GR50 along the valley floor below the road, flat at first before climbing up to the Col du Lautaret. This was the start of the ascent of the Galibier but the old road started just a little around the corner. Starting from 1988m it twisted and turned to the pass at 2642. I started off in a determined manner. From what I could see the path crisscrossed, maintaining a fairly even gradient with no surprises. All I had to do was pace myself and conserve energy.

From the barren summit I descended down the north side to 2405m and dropped off road towards la Lauzette down and follow the Torrent de la Lauzette. This looked good, really good and there was no one around.

It was a real gem of a valley, high, empty.

A quick turn around and into the climb south flat at first to Plan Lachat and then increasingly steep I started the climb towards Col des Rochilles 2496m. It was a wide and popular track with day trippers. The gradient was constant, but just the wrong side of comfortable and the surface was loose and dusty. I gave it a damn good shot, but came up wanting on a couple of sections!

The track turned in to the GR57 passing under Mont Thabor the path weaved its way passed lakes and rocky outcrops. The descent from the pass was rocky and technical, not the place I would have wanted to have a slip or a terminal mechanical, it was a long way home. The backdrop was stunning, in my head this was real mountainbiking.

It started to become less steep around Refuge des Drayeres and the long, straight descent to Vallee de la Clarée commenced. I coasted along the road, down could mean only one thing, I would have to come back up. Shortly before Névache I left the road and hit the path up top the Chalets de Buffère. It was to be a stiff climb that took me out of the valley, getting dark i had to crack on.

Finally arriving at Col de Buffère. The descent into le Monêtier-les-Bains was fast and enjoyable. Long curving firebrick with a winding forested section near the end.

The Dark Peak MTB guide had been on my shelf since last years Big Shakeout and now with the long evenings and a full moon it felt like the perfect opportunity to take on the challenge of the 105km Lord of the Loops. [See the route here]

I managed to wrangle in Col, we switched to a 32/18 ratio and put some knobbly tires on. That was the set up, we were ready to go. The biggest challenge was going to be turning up for work the next day!

On the drive up Col fitted a Gamma to his helmet and discovered it was cracked at the front. He decided he would have to ride carefully! In total we had 3 Gammas each, one on our helmets, the other two on our handle bars. At just £12.50 each.. it seemed good value compared to pro bike lights and we were pretty sure they would get us round. We set off from Castleton at 6pm.

The guide book starting point was Ladybower, but our plan was to get Mam Tor out the way early, get over the moors and down to the A628 before the werewolves awoke. We were fresh and the riding was good, the weather held and the rain clouds chased us across the moor. In the dusk it made for some exciting riding but we just managed to stay ahead to get off the moor as darkness fell.

Col was expecting downhill all the way to Glossop, so the rutted climb alongside the A628 came as something of a disappointment, which along with the arrival of the rain dampened our spirits. Riding into Glossop should have been the high point because every peddle stroke would be taking us home, however we were wet, cold and hungry. There were no easy escape routes from here, and sitting in our little shelter at 1am the only option was to continue pressing along the itinerary.

As we climbed out of Glossop the rain relented and we warmed to the task. Breaking the remaining distance down into short sections we gave ourselves achievable targets, the kilometres fell away as did the clouds revealing that full moon for the first time. The night however was short, and the sun brought warmth and hope. The riding became easier, and even though we were tired, and could have easily cut out the little loop from Eldon Hill down to Old Dam we stuck to the programme and got it done!

We were back in the office for 8.30 and tucking into egg baps. The coffee pot was charged up and we were feeling tired but psyched. As for our sneaky plan of extended the long evening with full moon light.. apparently there was a lunar eclipse during the night! Many thanks also to Shaggy and Paul.e. Without you guys showing us what is possible we would be doing a whole lot less!

Last year I decided, well I guess I thought.. how can I make next year’s Melloblocco different for me? How about flying in to Bergamo and get there under my own steam, carrying my boulder mat and camping equipment on my bike. On the map it is not far, 100k or so, but it does go over the 2000m Passo San Marco. That would be different.

Melloblocco appears on my radar like a Nimitz class carrier.. it is unavoidable. I look forward to it each year and swear I am actually going to train and crush some of those granite blocs. Of course I never do, but it doesn’t stop me wanting to go back again.

So I was committed and the main task would be to work out how to attach stuff to my bike. The trip was 10 days, I needed a usable boulder mat (my days of beer towel were long gone), tent, sleeping bag, sleeping mat, cooking equipment, spare clothes, bike repair kit and d-SLR.

Looking around, there are not that many off-the-shelf options for carrying a boulder mat on a bike. That’s not surprising it is a bit niche, but I was fortunate that we had a pannier sized mat that Pete had recently developed. It had a small footprint, but was a good compromise for portability. Bodging my classic Blackburn pannier to my front forks with some bent aluminium bar and a couple of wing nuts was fairly easy. It was probably fortunate I was not aware the total weight it would have to support.

So I arrived at Bergamo with my bike in a bag psyched the trip was on. I didn’t waste anytime at all in getting set up, everything went together pretty sweetly in the airport car park. Left luggage was 40€ so I decided to fill the empty retro Karrimor pannier with the 2kg weight of the bike bag and I was off, albeit slightly wobbly. Ok so it would have been a good idea to fully load the bike before now, truth was I didn’t know what a fully loaded cycle touring bike should feel like, but this felt heavy.

The first obstacle was Bergamo rush hour traffic and I felt like a pregnant woman 8 and a half months gone on the first day of the January sales. Despite my trepidation I knew I had somewhere to be and putting the peddle to the metal I was out and heading towards the mountains via San Pelligrino.

My second challenge was to be an anticlimax. Stopping just shy of a tunnel I psyched myself up. I knew tunnels in these parts were narrow and went on for hundreds of metres so I turned on my lights and gingerly entered the dark gaping hole.. only to find it was 100m long!

Pushing on through San Pelligrino I started to feel like I was getting somewhere and started to relax. A short stop for a pizza and I just needed to find a secluded spot to crash down for the night.

The following morning the climb started immediately. I took it steady, one bend at a time pacing myself against an elderly couple ambling up the road. We made the 600m climb within 10 minutes of each other to face the show packed road that descended the northern side of the pass into Valtellina. As I descended over the frozen snow pack my only company was a party of ski mountaineers and some hardy marmots.

The descent to Morbegno was welcome, as was the opportunity to finally pick up some puncture repair patches and glue in case of emergencies. I grabbed an amazing panino for lunch before making the 600m climb up the opposite valley into Val Masino via Dazio. From here it was all down hill, well nearly all down hill and I rolled into the Centro Polifunzionale around 6pm. One of Iris’s beers was gladly swigged and I settled down into a week of blissful climbing.

We got our dump at last and it’s a good one. The Peak District is blanketed under a deep layer of snow, it is time to get out and go for a slide! Nick was on it, he suggested the Manifold valley, it was a good track and very importantly it was flat.

Footwear was my biggest concern, my SPDs were going to be either cold, wet or more probably both. I had walking boots but no flats, so SPDs it was with Sealskins and plastic bags. It was a sunny day how cold could it be?

This was the first time I had really tried to ride in snow and I was taken aback by just how little snow it took to make progress next to impossible. The sun had softened the surface so floating over the top wasn’t going to happen, fortunately we could follow the land rover and tractor tracks, the crushed snow just firm enough to support our weight. Nick had attached zip ties around his tyres for extra grip, most likely a pro tip he had picked up off the internet however in this soft snow he wasn’t getting the performance gain he was hoping for.

We found a fun downhill, a wide open convex slope, real steep and unbroken. The anticipation was building, how fast would we go? would we slide? would we slip? would we roll? would we carve? we just didn’t know. I set off first building up speed then off the end of the compacted track and into the unknown. It wasn’t steep yet and my speed was soon absorbed by the deep snow, front wheel plunging itself down and down with each revolution.

I kept peddling, this was lung-busting work and I was going downhill! The slope reached its steepest point and I was still peddling, this was not going to be any sleigh ride for sure. Nick followed in similar style although he had the advantage of his fluorescent orange Commencal to burn a furrow into the snow! We both agreed it had been a proper anticlimax.

The sun now disappeared behind the hillside and the temperature dropped. Passing under Thor’s Cave we pulled the Thermos out and supped hot black coffee. In the fading light we turned for home struggling to keep our wheels in the thin rutted tyre tracks. It had been a top ride.

Bringing the bike to Scotland has been a great success. I have discovered areas I would never have had reason to visit on a climbing trip and rediscovered areas I thought I knew, experiencing them in a brand new light. Now with camp Stocker located in Tyndrum I had the chance to rack up some more miles on yet more new ground.

Tyndrum sits straddles the West Highland Way, or rather the West Highland Way passes through Tyndrum and is home to the famed Green Welly Stop “The Perfect Spot for a halfway stop!” My route started from the GWS and followed a short section of the WHW to the Bridge of Orchy. From here it diverted west in to Kinglass, a flat, wide open valley that ambles down towards Loch Etive.

The route profile had looked inviting, with no major climbs involved I was looking forward to just a damn good ride out. Singletrack followed the river Kinglass, running parallel for most of its length. The track was grassy, a boggy middle section was short lived before turning to land rover track by Glenkinglass Lodge.

Fast descent led to the shore of Loch Etive, there wasn’t an angle that didn’t cut an amazing view. In contrast to the scatter and clatter of rubble on the dirt track my treaded rubber made a slow soft rumble on the warm asphalt. Although on road the final section is surprisingly hilly and made a good job of draining my remaining energy. An eagle soared high over the loch, ok I can’t be sure of that, it could have been a raven but as I approached the end of the loch the powerful outline of Ben Cruachan dominated the southern skyline, that I am sure of.

Genesis iO 32/18. 57km.

Rain had set in for the day, downer. I would have had a good excuse if I was climbing but bikes can be ridden all weathers, lucky me.

Wind blowing, wheels rolling, spray in the face, sucking it up, I was going to endure this one. Not much of a view today as I skirted past Loch Clair. More water in the face, fresh, cold and blown straight off the loch but it tasted just the same as the 45 degree pellets drowning my soul.

All the time I was heading further and further away from the warmth of my dry sleeping bag, should I stop and drain my shoes? would my hands be warmer if I took off these sodden gloves? And then it stopped, no more rain, no more pain.

I rolled gleefully past Achnashellach Lodge gazing wondrously at the marvellously water retentive clouds hugging the flanks of the mountains. One sharp right turn later and I was heading home, just the eery sounding Bealach na Lice standing in my way.. all 400 metres of it.

Most of the ascent was ridable, and although I didn’t see much of the mountains the scenery was spectacular. The main event was yet to come, the amazing single track descent past Lochan Domhain. I will not mention the squidgy muddy push around Loch an Eion, that would just spoil a good ending!

Genesis iO 32/18. 46km

It was Friday afternoon and it looked like there was another great weekend on the cards. I didn’t have a plan, Nick had said that he would be around during the weekend but in the back of my mind I guess I really wanted to get back into the mountains and do something that at the end of the year I could say.. that’s what I did this year.

I dropped Col off at home after work, I still didn’t know what I was doing so I threw some pasta in the pan… When Jim found out that I had attempted the Welsh 3000ers last weekend he had asked why Cadair Idris wasn’t included. Now that I was forced to think about it I couldn’t think of a reason either. I had been up it many times as a lad it was a big mountain… surely it had to be at least 3000ft?

The pasta bubbled away and I popped the lid on the jar of pesto, classic basil. When the weather is hot and sunny I think of the mountains around Lecco, I really miss not being able to just step out of my back door and on to a mountain. I thought about the bike in the back of my car, what was that doing there anyway? Earlier in the week I had extracted a link out of the chain with the help of Pete and although the back wheel fell off and I had ended up face first on the tarmac the chain no longer slipped. It was like a raging bull, but I reckoned I had what it would take to ride it.

Stirring in the pesto an idea started to formulate itself… maybe I could do Snowdon and Cadair Idris in a day by bike, and on my bike at that!

First thing to do was to drive back out past Alpkit HQ to Decathlon and take a look at a map, how far was it from Snowdon to Cadair Idris anyway? They didn’t have the maps I needed but I did manage to pick up a puncture repair kit. Next stop Tesco to pick up some supplies. I was going to need energy, I needed Malt Loaf.. Shortly after I was back at Alpkit printing off a Google map. It looked as if it was going to be about 35 miles from Snowdon to Cadair Idris, it sounded like a long way. I had never cycled that distance in my life, but I knew I could walk up Snowdon, and if I could reach Cadair Idris I would be able to walk up that as well. What I didn’t know was if my bike would make it to Cadair Idris without falling apart, whether I could ride that distance, and if I did would I be able to make it back?

These were details I could worry about later. Now I just needed to get back to Decathlon and pick up that bike lock I had forgotten earlier.

I camped out at the foot of Pen-y-Pass and set off at 6.15. I figured that if my bike was going to fail it would be on the climb to the youth hostel and it would only be a short walk back to the car. No such problem and I had despatched Snowdon by 9. The descent to Beddgelert was a joy, if a little chilly, the constant risk of my back wheel falling off kept me alert.

My Google map indicated that I should go through Rhyd, it was the shortest way. It didn’t tell me it was also the steepest way, but what ever goes up must eventually come down and I whizzed pass the Tan-y-Bwlch station on the Ffestiniog Railway. I had been here many times when I was younger, I had had posters on my wall and everything, but before today I honestly could not have told you where it was. From here there was a long climb up to Llyn Trawsfynydd, just manageable on my 32/13 ratio before the long, interminable slog towards Dolgellau.

Head down and peddle. My crank had developed an interesting crunching sound, not really a place I wanted to break down. As each hill appeared out of the haze I wondered if it was Cadair Idris, if not that maybe the next one, or the next, or the next…

Suddenly there were a few more bikes around. I had stumbled upon the Coed y Brenin mtb centre. Today wasn’t the day to check out some of it’s trails but I was glad to have found out where it was, and from here the road started to drop down into Dolgellau. From the town centre it was a steep little climb to the Gwernan Lake Hotel and the start of Foxes path up Cadair Idris, (km 58, 1pm). By now I was quite weary, pushing was easier than riding, I treated myself to a cola in the hotel. I was glad to be out of the saddle and pretty sure that I would be able to recuperate some energy on the walk, and what a great day to be walking. There was nobody on this side of the mountain and I had forgotten how great a mountain Cadair Idris is. The soft and luscious grassy path took me to Llyn y Gadair where it turned all too soon into a steep scree path which led direct to the summit. 2.30pm. I joined many other people enjoying the sun by the summit cairn. While munching on my malt loaf the summit of Snowdon was visible through the haze, I was startled by how far it looked away.

The descent was slow, both of my knees were giving way and I couldn’t see myself riding back. I hadn’t really thought about how I would get back if I couldn’t ride it but now I started going through the options: bus, taxi, hitch, walk. Arriving at the hotel the guys really helped me out by providing some bus information, nothing direct to Pen-y-Pass, it looked as if Caernafon or Bangor would be my best bet. Not wanting to delay I scooted back down into town. Weirdly my knees didn’t feel too bad back on my bike, and I think if I had of had a bike more suitable for the job like a Genesis Vapour I would have been up for it. As it was I was more than happy to hop on the Blaenau bus and cut out the Trawsfyndd section. I was dropped at the Oakeley Arms, half way home.

Even with my renewed energy levels I wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about the climb back over Rhyd. I was tempted to head the long way down around Penrhyndeudraeth, but the bus driver was watching me so I quickly snapped my wheels back into the frame and rode off around the corner. It wasn’t long before I was pushing but I was out of sight. The climb went quicker than I was expecting and I cruised into Beddgelert. 6.15pm, I took on some food and water, not far now but it was all up hill. By some miracle I managed to ride to the Pen-y-Gwryd Hotel without resting, was I pleased? believe it!

And so just 13 hours after setting out I was back at the car, happy with what I had achieved and more than ready for a healthy portion of fish and chips in Betws-y-Coed!

In retrospect I think that this trip would be excellent to do over two days, taking a more interesting off road route with bivvy gear. In my haste I had no bike rack, a bike not suitable for purpose, and I really don’t like riding with a heavy backpack hence my decision to do it in a day.

I was taking a break from climbing, tennis elbow had been getting me down. With a couple of runs under my belt I was ready for a new challenge. The weekend weather forecast looked fab for Snowdonia so I decided that it would be a good idea to try the Welsh 3000ers in lightweight fastpacking style. I calculated a round trip of 60km with 3500m of ascent.

10 April
My first fail was to arrive in Llanrwst 1 minute after the chip shop closed. My second fail was to arrive in Betws-y-Coed 1 minute after the chip shop closed. My third fail was to sleep in the car. Outside temperatures were about 2 degrees but it felt much colder than that in my tin coffin.
Saturday 6 am, I was glad to be moving. My pack felt good, light on my back with just the basics for an overnight bivvy. I was assisted by CarbonLite poles which I hoped would save my knees on the steep decents. Reaching Pen-y-Pass at 6.30 I followed the Pyg Track to summit Snowdon at 8. I was pleasantly surprised and felt good despite some abrasion on my left heal. Heading down over Crib Goch I turned sharp left and jogged along in the direction of Nant Peris. So far so good.

The path from Nant Peris to the summit of Elidir Fawr was new to me and I discovered it to be a long, long sustained drag. I caught up with a couple of guys who were on a reconnaissance for an attempt on the 3000ers in June. We chatted for a bit before I started pulling away at a rate so imperceptibly slow I wasn’t sure if I should say goodbye or not! Actually it was a pretty good day for hill banter, no road rage here, there were positive vibes in the air, even from the guy who nearly had his thumb bitten off by his Jack Russell on the descent from Tryfan. Everyone was out to enjoy it.
So there I was on Elidir Fawr at 11.30. I was pretty exhausted, it was hot and I hadn’t drunk enough. I was conscious of time ticking away so I set off promptly around the long traverse towards Y Garn. This should have been a chance to recuperate but I felt fatigued and I was moving slower than I would have liked. The climb up to Glyder Fawr forced me to call upon my emergency Ginsters cheese and onion pasty earlier than expected.
The traverse across to Glyder Fach took an eternity and I renamed the path down the side of Bristly Ridge to Beastly Ridge. My knee which had been flaring up over the past few weeks, coincidently whilst jogging was now showing real signs of destructing. I didn’t have a watch and only knew the time when I took a summit photo on Tryfan. It was a surprise to see it had only just gone 3. If I could get down to Llyn Ogwen by 4 I would still have another 4 hours of daylight and it would still be a goer.

My knee was not in agreement. It had taken a pounding all day and was not going another step. Accepting failure I took a look at the rubbing on my left heal. A nasty bloody patch sealed my fate. It was a cup of tea at the Ogwen cafe and game over.

12 April
So near but so far, but it wasn’t wasted. I enjoyed a peaceful bivvy in some boulders along Llyn Ogwen. It was a lovely starry night which passed comfortably on the full length Airo 180 mat. I had carried it all day so I was glad to use it.
I still harboured thoughts of finishing the remaining 3000ers, but another look at my heal remind me this was not a good idea. In the end I had a slow but enjoyable trek back over the Tryfan – Glyder pass trying not to weight either the blister on my left foot or my painful knee on my right leg. Fastpacking had turned into lightweight hobblebackpacking.

24 April
The weather was continuing to hold. I had spent the previous weekend cycling between Snowdon and Cadair Idris. Now I was back for a second attempt fastpacking the 3000ers. Had I learned enough from the previous attempt, had I recovered enough, should I have just gone to the beach?
My equipment was the same – lightweight pack, sleeping mat, sleeping bag, bivvy bag and tarp. I knew this worked well, the PD250 was spot on for the season and the tarp/bivvy combination would provide flexible shelter allowing me to hunka down where ever I fell. I had enjoyed running with the CarbonLite trekking poles so they were also back.

This time I arrived in time to give myself a square meal. Setting off a little earlier at 5.30 I also tweaked my route to ascend via Crib Goch and decent along the ridge towards the Clogwyn Station. Much more sensible and also an enjoyable run.
The climb up Elidir Fawr was no less the slog than it had been the first time. It wasn’t my backpack that was stopping me running. Saying that I was feeling stronger than the last time and confidence was high. Again the decent from Tryfan took its toll on my knees. A sharp pain was slowing me down and knocking my confidence. Reaching the foot of Pen-Yr-Ole-Wen I felt energised but handicapped by my knees, was I to be thwarted once more?
In retrospect I should have stopped there and avoided any long term damage. But you know how it is.
Appearing over the summit around 4pm I wished for a simple trot around the Carneddau and a speedy conclusion to this madness.
Alas it wasn’t happening, my run had turned to a crawl. At 8pm I reached the rounded finishing line of Foel-fras. All 13 peaks summited, but I had reached my limit and slumped behind the closest wall.

25 April
The following morning I lay awake waiting for my body to move. It refused. I didn’t have much to persuade it to get going. The 18km hike back to the car wasn’t swinging it. The wind was picking up and fearing my lightly tethered tarp would sail away spurred me into action. Standing was difficult, walking painful, running unthinkable. Each step was accompanied with a sharp pulse shooting up my knee. My poles were now indispensable just to get me off this mountain.
And so started the glacial progress back to the car via Carnedd Llewelyn, Ffynnon Llugwy, a much needed snack at the cafe in Capel Curig and finally the foot of Pen-y-Pass.
My challenge was complete on the second attempt but I wasn’t jumping up and down – at least not on the outside. At times I ran, but my body wasn’t durable enough to sustain this all day over this terrain. It took months for my knees to recover – if they ever have. I still love the idea of running a multi-day adventure but I think a less hilly route may suit me better, maybe the West Highland Way.

etting your own bloc with 2000 mad-for-it boulderers around isn’t easy… but that’s Melloblocco and I was ready for it. I was back in Italy for the first time since leaving in 2008 and on this occasion I was lucky enough to be accompanied by Ashleigh, one of the original Alpkit Academy climbers.

Arriving Friday afternoon we hiked over to the car hire booth. I hadn’t even had the chance to stutter a word of Italian before our Panda was upgraded to a Volvo C30 premium hatchback in cool white. Nice, that hasn’t happened before, it felt like it was going to be a good weekend.

I have attended the Melloblocco festival for 4 years but this was the biggest I have ever seen it, the camping had been extended to accommodate the extra people, but still there were camper vans and tents along the road side.. sweet. In fact by the time we registered ourselves at the Centro Polifunzionale we found that the guys had already been at it for two days.

It looked like Adam Ondra was going well having already flashed a couple of the eight competition blocs, it looked more open in the women’s event with no clear leader at this point. There was no time for food as the evening’s entertainment got under way. A short film from Phillipe Ribiere was rudely interrupted by one of those instant storms you only get in the Alps. Phillipe is currently travelling around Europe in a pimped up van on his Evolution Tour. Sadly the rain also meant that we would not be treated to a night time boulder contest.

Also on tour, albeit coming to the end of it were Gaz Parry and James Pearson, so moving under the cover of the sports hall they pulled on their 80s lycra and presented the North Face Summit Series Road Trip. This 40 day trip consisted of climbing the 20 best 8a routes in Europe, with some coaching and lectures thrown in for good measure. Rather than concentrating on the climbing they put together an amusing account of what it was like to be stuck together for 40 days in a camper van. The evening wasn’t finished yet.. we sat through a short video from Mauro Calibani and a preview of the new bouldering video ‘Pure’. By now it was midnight and we were bushed. It was a shame because as we were leaving Said Belhaj and the Saganass Sound System were getting ready to punch out some electronic beats.

The weather was supposed to be wet on Saturday, but I know better than to rely on an Italian weather forecast. It was a great day and the sun shone as we ambled between competition climbs. It felt busy but considering the number of people in the valley (2500 people had pre registered) it wasn’t too bad. Anyway if you want a quiet weekend of bouldering you shouldn’t choose this one!

We didn’t really hang around the comp boulders for too long, I wasn’t able to make it last year and wanted to explore some of the new areas developed around San Martino and Visido. The rough texture of the Mello blocs came as a shock to our poor finger tips and by the end of the day we were thoroughly looking forward to a pizza at Fiorellis.

Back at the camp site the party was already underway. The exhibitors village snaked around the party tent which pumped out drum & base until 4am. We only had one more day and I wanted to spend that climbing, not sleeping.

Sunday was another fine day, another new area to explore. I had a mini flapper which despite being thoroughly disinfected by Nicoletta Costi still needed some attention. It had caused such attention that I feared my finger was going to end up in plaster, so the day started with a quick trip into San Martino to purchase the most expensive roll of finger tape in the world.

Having climbed 6c on Saturday my target for the day was 7a. Unfortunately despite repeated attempts on both an aesthetic arete and an elegant bloc in the Sasso Remenno area I didn’t manage to top out on either.

Defeated again for this year, and not even threatening to register in the final classification it’s back to a windy UK. And what do I find on my desk? An Up to Summit training plan specifically designed to get me up an 8a by the end of the summer. Thanks Dan!