In life I try not to be proud, especially of my climbs, because a meaning of the word ‘proud’ is, ‘Having or showing a high or excessively high opinion of oneself or one's importance.’ My climbs, on a local, national and global level are of no importance to anyone, but myself. Of course, on a person level, they mean a great deal, but to explain the complexities attached to a significant experience in a sentence, is impossible. For a person who has dedicated and sacrificed much in life to climb, these routes become way markers, experiences that affect and influence a life, before throughout and after.

A selection of climbs that fit the description above, but by no means a definitive list, would be: The Bells, The Bells and Hollow Man on North Stack Wall, Gogarth. The Croz Spur and the Colton/MacIntyre, Grande Jorasses, France. Quitaraju South Face and Fear and Loathing, Jirishanca, Peru. Sea of Vapours, Rocketman, Man Yoga, and the Real Big Drip, Canadian Rockies. Godzilla, Beinn Bhàn, Guerdon Grooves, Buachaille Etive Mor, Scotland. Slovak Direct, Denali, Alaska. Chang Himal North Face, Nepal. Nyainqêntanglha's South East Face, Tibet.

A great day climbing is subjective; what makes the day great for me, will be hell for others, and vice versa. There is also the fun factor to be considered, which, as I’m sure most people reading this will know comes in a scale of 1 to 3. 1 being actual fun at the time. 2 is not fun until you have returned to the valley/fireside/van/house/safety/pub, and then, and only then, it becomes fun. 3 is not fun at all, and shouldn’t actively be sought unless you are a tad deranged!

I have always enjoyed type 1 climbing, but in some form of self-flagellation, type 2 has more appeal. The type 2 climbing day is always with a good friend and generally has terror, skin of the teeth, almost failure, or actual failure, shivering, misery, fear, loose rock, thin ice, thin air, weight loss, run-out protection, but as long as my friend and I survive, (and occasionally succeed) all of these things make the type 2 fun climb memorable, and always good for recounting afterwards. Type 2 climbs become stuff of personal legend, a memory seared into the grey matter, even if what is recalled, doesn’t actually portray what actually happened.