Week One. Baptism of Fire (and a bit of fear).

I'm sitting here in my room overlooking the stable yard of Plas y Brenin, the National Mountain Centre.The room has a good feel about it and is pleasant to spend time in, not that there has been much chance so far, busy as it has been. We students of the Rapid Development Clinic have our own rooms in Tryfan, a lovely stone cottage facing the courtyard of the centre. This arrangement is unique and one of the benefits of being here for the month.

I have now done a week's climbing and feel a lot more competent than I did at the beginning. Our group consists of me, Bethan, Keith and Jack. Jules was also part of our group but only here for a week, on a Touching Stone course. We have tried to persuade her to stay but to no avail; she is a teacher and her children mustn't be left illiterate. So we continue into next week feeling a little sadder, particularly Bethan with whom Jules giggled, alarmingly on the more exposed areas of the rockface. We shall all climb together again I'm sure.

Our head instructor is Phil who really ought to be a botanist given his knowledge/obsession with each small flower we pass. Stopping to gaze fondly at each one, it takes some time to reach our climbing spot. None of us minds this though, the environment being part of the experience.

The teacher/pupil ratio is excellent, having 2 instructors for 5 of us. In addition to the ever present Phil we have been instructed by Alice and Dave. We started with similar levels of ability which was a relief all round. The first week concentrated on technical aspects, with an assumption that we could actually climb a bit. Not sure how true this is in my case but I certainly needed to know how not to kill myself so learning about placing protection, making anchors for top ropes and belays is critical.

As we progressed during the week my brow became less furrowed as understanding grew. Phil may find that statement amusing. What he didn't find funny was my moonwalk back towards the edge of the cliff without rope or helmet on Thursday. Just testing the reactions. Concentration and consternation grew when doing escape from the system and self rescue with the prussik in the climbing wall. I had to upend myself on my harness when a screw gate on my karabiner got stuck. Arguably this defeats the object of the exercise but having prussiked up and down the rope successfully by that stage I felt I'd proven the point. Climbing experts need not admonish me on these points as I have some idea of my current limitations.

By the end of the week we all felt we had come on a great deal. The instructors have the right balance of patience and allowing us to take responsibility without letting us actually kill ourselves or our climbing partners. Most of the time I think we have been OK.

Friday was a sort of catharsis for us all. It was a cold day and no one was very enthused as we arived at Norwig quarries. We had to get on with it though and anyway the slate mines are awe inspiring places to be. Keith likened it to Mawdor from Lord of the Rings, an impressively dark and uncompromising place complete with bad weather, as the hail began to fall. Phil and Dave were patient with us but also insistent that we get on with it and rightly so. We learned a lot, were told to look at our feet, not our hands, and to trust that our shoes would hold on the narrow ledges or toe holds. For those who don't know (how wise I am after 5 days), slate, though often appearing a flat slab, has plenty of ridges that are ideal for foot, rather than hand holds. Feet are the key to climbing; the muscles in the legs are bigger than in arms and other obvious stuff if one only stops to think about it.

Phil explained that rock shoes have rubber based on aircraft tyre technology - the memory allows the shoe to mould onto the surface provided it is firmly placed. Though doubtful I nodded and found it to be true. If nothing else it slowed me down. Concentrate on your breathing I was told and it helped. Having sworn at myself on one climb, I was asked what the problem was, and saying I was too concerned about the climb (though ascended successfully he pointed out huffily) was promptly told to go up again, on a top rope, as quick as I could. I did so and this helped. Phil has a skill at reading his students and what is the best way of getting them to perform. Climbing may reveal character more than one would wish of course. Phil reminds me of a colour sergeant I once knew which is a greater compliment than it sounds. His interest in botany is deeper, Phil's, not the chap in HM's Forces.

I am already seeking accommodation in Snowdonia for after the course finishes, knowing that I must keep climbing in order not to forget what I will have learnt here and to get increasingly comfortable with it. Taking this up twenty years ago would have helped, but I can't help that.

The centre is a comfortable place to be; has an unintrusive but inclusive atmosphere. The staff help too - the centre assistants are the equivalent of redcoats (in a good way), not instructors but competent in most sports and work the bar, reception etc and we're getting to know them. They have the lowdown on what goes on here; Alice and Lucy in particular. They are fundamental to our enjoyment here really. Dave the Australian barman is a mercenary as he says himself (how much to they pay bar staff here?), but a decent bloke nevertheless. I'm pondering a suitable opportunity to get us all hammered with them in Betwys, or any venue in the vicinity where the entertainment isn't limited to an old woman sucking a pickled egg and a pint of mild at the end of the bar.

Now into the second week we feel like old hands, in fact we have since Friday, watching the weekend students arrive on Friday night and since their departure yesterday, the new ones again today. The youth of the group becomes a little clearer - most of this lot are on expedition medicine hence young and bright. Invigorating rather than depressing; being round lively people is always appealing. The veneer of us as experienced campaigners, if others recognise it at all, will wear off quickly. People find their feet and get into the course. Soon we shall be straining to hear what they're up to and hoping to catch them in the bar.

The ritual over the weekend changed with us not having to get up early but I did, unable to ignore the lure of a good cooked breakfast. The food is sourced locally and it shows. Not being on a course at the weekend did not leaving the void that educational institutions can, if one is not continually there for a specific purpose. It's pleasant to sit in the bar, tapping away whilst the new influx of others on weekend courses comes and goes, rather like watching a tide of people rushing to get the tube to work when one is not. This is leisure of course but I think there is still a little trepidation for most people that one feels when starting something new. I still have that every day when climbing.

For anyone interested in the specifics of what we did rather than my half baked self analysis, take a look below.

Monday 3rd: Upper tier of Tremadoc. Anchors and gear placements. White knuckle holding of rope on way down and scampering up.

Tues 4th: Anglesey, Crax X, Rhoscolyn. Anchors again, lowering down to touch the water (and occasionally cloth..) climbing back up, quickly.

Wed 5th: Indefatiguable (Joint Services Climbing Wall), Anglesey. Top anchoring, escaping from the system and prussiking including self rescue and topsy turvy exit (for me).

Thurs 6th: Holyhead Mountain, Anglesey. Top roping climbing teaser, Laceration, New Boots and Panties, Big Dirty Crack. Or maybe that last one was the description of several we did.

Friday 7th: Norwig Quarries, specifically Australia. Near Looning the Tube. The cause of most of my profanities this week, but a very satisfying series of climbs, particularly the last one which Phil made me do twice.