Di-dómhnaich, is coimhead bhuam air cuan na Hearadh - chun imeacht i dtreo na bóithre gan cosán le mo thaobh atá mé...An tèid thu leam air bhàrr nan tonn? Tha mo bheul cho tioram agus coma leam leabaidh no cadal no biadh...

Mondays child - has a half pound bag of Metolius super-chalk, wide tape for strapping, & fresh finger skin. He will be a busy little bee on his 12mtr woody for pulling, wherein a replica of the project crux sequences await. True, this harder indoor mimicry, carries exact replication of the task at hand, save that it demands of any ascensionist proclaiming resource of the required calibur, that they should fight with dramatically smaller holds, at a steeper angle & through sickeningly extended copies of reaches, so that when the time comes, & the temperature is cooled, & the rain is pushed through; all breathing realities of the ensuing event will be tipped towards negligible negative consequence. For now, let the rain rain. Let it tap out crazy rhythm & meter on the cattle-shed roof while I soak myself inside engraming, mind reference, & burn - staining each muscle, sinew & soul element into focused solitary mantra & kinaesthetic drone. These day in-day out ways, for me as a standard, are the simple traditions of trade. To bring results beyond contention.

The winter lecture & movement workshop frameworks are layed out almost ready, & the venues & walls are apparently, totally excited about it. Matt Heason recently even went so far as to say: Well, if youre ever down this way, John Dunne did a lecture in the Peak & got out alive.... I did grin, after I shuddered. Add also, that people are actually asking if they can purchase & if I'm willing to sell, my black & white climbing photography. Before you know it, the big black & white crux photograph of Eat Yerself Whole-V15, they framed & hung in the bar, will be on ebay...rare as dragons eggs they say. Somehow, it got me looking through old slides of climbing in the Wadis, Font, Eaux Claires, the Alps & beyond into the k5 Shining Wall, places like that...the list is quite big. The dusty old box of stills & slides Robo, Mac, Zed & myself & others who have come & gone, or disappeared into suburbia to grow beer bellies & children, both with equal veracity to their gnome collections & minimum wages, those slides we took before so many fell, & collected through the years. It smells the same...the marks on the corners from the box living in gites & vans are familiar, the scribbles on the slide casings, ask the corners of your mouth to curl lopsided into a fond grin. Things are looking good & positive all round. I'm climbing like a thing possessed as well, people are getting drop-jawed, projects are getting thrashed & we are finding totally new & exciting crags to develop. One crag has an huge old seaniar heid with a beard, profiled into the soaring arete. Then come winter, I'll be advising on the layout of a new climbing wall, route setting & all that on top, & at some point getting archeologists safely on & off of sea-stacks & doing the photography. It all goes into the climbing fund aye...I may be able to afford some of those fancy wire-gate clips by November for the sport project, imagine that!!

A man you can talk with - Hatrick Edgeclinger

I had texted James earlier, to see if he was up to seconding a full girdle traverse of Kilt at half height. There has been no reply as yet & since he may be looking for spare porta-ledges in the glen, I'm gonna have a nip over Torridon way mid-week with Cowie, for some intense boulder action if anyones up for it. Oh, before I nip off like, I just noticed that the blog has merrily motored past 30,000 hits!... I'd originally started the counter at 134 so as to appear visited, at the start of it all the other year. Since then it's obviously proved immensely popular with climbers, boulderers, the mountain fraternity & beyond, giving direct insight into sometimes personal moments, hopefully clarifying the ups & downs of an ordinary climbing life, the humour, the hate, the methodology of the mind & more...rather than relying on & as a way to escape, the forum hearsay piled with random uninformed conjecture, fantasy or plain vindictiveness, about who & what I am about. My polite way of saying sea-stac of bullshit aye. Even my most favourite great & lunatic climber Ben Paulo Cossey drops in from down-under Ozi way, when he's not singingwithamongooseicecreamdancingonhisheadfullofbarbedwire &gravybowls, aye matey... along with many other names. Benjo just loves life, & in turn, life loves him back, with colour, movement & stillness. This blog was the first of it's kind, & the first of note, so they tell me. Other climbers have now followed suit & hopefully the blog network won't suffer the embarrassing snide abuse the climbing community has bestowed upon itself, through many a self-perpetuating forum...Whatever happened to just phoning & asking somebody about things, or calling round with your handlebars set at a ridiculous angle? Anyways, 30,000 hits & still chugging along aye. I feel like putting a candle in a doughnut & dancing, which would be exhuberent for a Connemara redneck stained into the Hebrides for life....The blood in the pool bleeds red wherever you cut the belly, whoever you are, wherever you are. When did the boundary colours fade into one thing? Back to the Torridon bouldering at hand & the usual climb-line of: 07981215915 applies...Free trawler lift over to Torridon & back of course. If you can't stand the smell of dead fish, desal & diesel - swim or drive the pussy long way round. See you there.

Benjo pissing about on Groovy at Taipan Wall... pansy 8b or something...

[nb: Despite putting my mobile number up as The Climb Line in addition to my email, on this trip I heard zero from zero other climbers.]