What Lies Beneath

Vivian Quarry with the Pool Wall on the left. Photo: scubaverse.com

Imagine pulling the bath plug out of Vivian Quarry’s lake, watching the mercury-coloured water drain slowly… slowly… down. What would the bruised purple slate walls reveal?

Would the walls be covered in a slimy scum? Or would they be bone-dry in minutes, climbers eagerly testing and tapping the flakes? Perhaps there’d be a few abandoned cars on the lake-bed, quietly rusting until now, and a lone diver spinning in the whirlpool as the last water slurped away. Think of the potential for new routes! But then again, think of how the routes on the Pool wall, which are currently Deep Water Solos (DWS), would cease to exist in their current form.

The Pool Wall is a vertical promontory which stretches into the middle of Vivian’s lake - the most accessible of the Llanberis slate quarries. Like ruffled hair, heather and oak trees sprout from the top of the steep rectangle of slate. Tiptoeing to the end of the ridge, Andy Moles and I carefully lean over the edge. It takes a second to realise what we’re looking at: our own reflections stare back in the the mirror-like surface of the water. Leaves are pinned to the surface, but below, oak trees and two heads look back at us from the depths.

Would you jump? It’s 22 metres from the diving board-end of the promontory to the water. Apparently, the beta is to throw a rock off before you jump, breaking the surface tension and giving you a softer landing. At some height, hitting water is the same as hitting concrete, but many people have done ‘Nicky’s Leap’ and come away with only sore heels. At some height, DWS routes are just pseudo-solos.

For climbers, the Pool Wall’s appeal is its smooth, vertical wall facing the entrance of the Quarry. They’re occasionally climbed, usually as DWS. Walking the lake path, the side profile of the Wall reveals it’s actually warped, as if buckled and pressured over the years. Andy and I take turns to repeat the classic route, ‘Soap on a Rope’ (6c) with the safety of a top rope. It feels pleasant, relaxing even, to be crimping positive edges and chucking my feet up… until I look down and imagine soloing. My knuckles suddenly go white, and my rock shoes feel sloppy. Shit. It’s a long way down from here - you wouldn’t want to fall off. You really wouldn’t want to fall out of control.

In a loaded minute, Andy, Ferdia and I have gone from having a relaxing afternoon on the slate, to the possibility of climbing the E7/7b, ‘I Ran The Bath.’ Andy chalks it up. Ferdia goes home. I gulp.

I’m an optimist. If there’s a chance I can onsight or flash a route, I’ll probably take it. I thought the chances of falling were slim - but certainly possible - and I didn’t want to find out what lay beneath Vivian Quarry’s dark waters. Who knew how many shopping trollies and cars were lying on the bottom? What about cold-water enemas? What about belly-flopping into the water from 20 metres?

Is it worth the risk? The weighing scales balance consequence, risk and reward. A dab of chalk here, a patter of beta there, and the scales teeter… it’s ‘on.’ But a missed hold, the slip of a poorly-placed foot, and you’re off. Down and out. The icy waters would welcome the plunge, the mirror of the lake shattered.

Abseiling to the base of the route, I try not to look too closely at the holds. In the bizarre rules of our climbing game, I want just the right experience. Too much information or a top-rope and I could have an almost guaranteed tick; ‘insta-gratification.’ But too little knowledge, and I’d be 15 metres up, shit-scared and off-route. It’s a tricky act to play, and the real experience is a rare treat. I want just the right amount of uncertainty, white knuckles and shaky feet… but not an enema.

As the rope slips through my hands, my mind records what I’ve seen, like reading a piece of music in reverse. Reasonable holds mark islands of safety, and I try not to look down at the mirror of the lake, hiding whatever’s under the surface. Don’t judge me, I think to the lake. I’m not going to abseil with my eyes closed for this one. Andy’s head appears at the top of the wall, leaning out on an oak bough, silhouetted against the clouds in the flat light. Drips occasionally plop into the lake’s mirror, smudges of fresh rain disappearing down the Llanberis valley.

I stand on the wobbling giant coat hanger at the base of the route, look down at myself in the reflection, and wait for my heart to stop thumping.

***

Back on the promontory with dry jeans and a racing heart, I pick moss and heather out of my fingernails. I’d over-gripped as I pulled on the bushes at the top, the route putting up a fight until the end. I babble excitedly and Andy smiles. ‘I couldn’t see any of the chalk from below! And it’s techy climbing, really engaging, the crux is ace, getting the high foot and stretching…’ I hold an arm up, reaching for the sky, ‘and the jug is right where you want it. Mega!’

We look down at the route, then down at the mirror, then into the water. I guess it was a win-win for Andy: either I had to try hard, or I’d take the splashdown. For now, I’m glad I didn’t find what lay beneath.

Video credit: Andy Moles

Thanks to Andy for the beta, encouragement and video. I’m pleased you didn’t chalk up the wrong holds and sandbag me into taking the fall - but it would’ve been entertaining (in hindsight!).

Pete Herd made a great video about Andy cleaning and climbing some of the lines on the Pool Wall. It’s well worth a watch: