204 - The 11 second rattle story
Ollie Stevens
It all began with one rock, one pitch, a stopwatch and a certain lack
of imagination on the part of those naming the pitch. It should at this
point be noted that it actually rattles for longer than 11 seconds. But
I digress. Armed with 105m of rope, Richard, Sarah and I began the
arduous task of negotiating Chocolate Salty Balls on the way to the
11SR, with the minor detour of liberating 33m of rope from 'Taking the
Piss.' This rope had clearly been affected by its oppressor as it was the
fastest rope I have ever witnessed. Still, I got my own back by using a
full turn round my breaking krab and twisting the hell out of it.
After rigging the short pitch above the 11SR with a deviation
Superman himself would have difficulty passing thanks to a school of
rigging that involves ignoring obvious spits and letting the location of
naturals decide the path the rig will take, we finally met the
proverbial 11 second rattle.
Having carried a full suite of power-bolting equipment with us it
seemed sensible to put in a Y-hang with the drill. It is often noted
that problems between the keyboard and chair are the main source of
computer problems, in this case I suppose the problem existed between
the muddy floor and the trigger, when we found that the drill was not
nearly as effective in reverse. I blame my thermodynamics lectures for
teaching me that reversible systems are most efficient and my education
at Cambridge for leaving me with no common sense. With a new burst of
enthusiasm after realising our mistake, and the drill firmly switched to
forwards we continued to drill. It is indicative of the human ability
for learning that during the second attempt at a hole we noted more
quickly that the drill was still in reverse.
One and a half holes later the drill decided that all this changing
direction was a bit too much and refused to go on.
We went all Old Skool on the hole's ass and cracked out the hand
bolting gear. One perfectly placed spit later, and we continued on our
journey. I abseiled down a few metres to place a survey station whilst
Sarah and Richard admired my beautiful spit placement, awe-stricken at
its poise, dedication and charm. One survey leg for good measure later,
and it was time to go home. Nothing would prepare us for the following
day's events. To be continued ...