A Day with Mike Law

When I first started buying Rock magazine, probably back in '89, like most of you I was in awe of all the heroiccharacters. Bold, competent, even handsome. But the one who most summed up that period , for me, was Mike Law. AKA The Claw.



I was guiding a group along the Grand Canyon track in the Blue Mountains one day in the early Nineties and recognised Mike, from magazine pictures,coming the other way. I couldn't believe my luck. A real rock star, live, in person. So naturally I stopped him, and surprisingly he gave me all the time I wanted, chatting about stuff, you know, stuff. And even suggesting I come and climb at the gym where he worked. I don't know where my group got to. I caught them up some time later.

But, in my mind,I came away with an invitation to climb with Mike Law. The Claw!



I never did.



Till one day, recently on a dash trip to the Bluies with Lee,we met again. Vector: Neil Monteith.





That's me sort of looking smug mixing it up with the big boys.



I was taken as much by Mike's story telling as his climbing. He's like a TV that's always on exactlythe right channel, the imagery is rich, and only just believable.



So I can scarcely believe all the amazing people I've been hangin with lately. The latest buzz was a day at my local crags with Mike.



Starting with breakfast.



We told storieswhile Sandraroasted coffee from our tree, free range, low food miles, organic, but saddly,tainted with child labour. Grandson Judd helps pick it.






We had chili eggs on Turkish bread. Fav Saturday morning food.






Then out to the crags. Starting at Tinbeerwah. Yes, I took the Legend of The Claw to the Slabs of Tinbeerwah. What of it? It was fun. I left my bolt plates at work, so we used wires.

How embarrassment?

Then we dropped in at my work for lunch - Nachos and chocolate cake - and down the highway to Mt. Tibrogargan.

My human guide book, Lee was away in Kentucky, so I sent him a message. What to do with Mike?

"Remains of the Day" 5 pitch, mixed.



So here's Mike climbing past the notice declaring the route closed for Falcon Nesting.

Settle down climbers, don't get your nuts in a knot,the date on ithad expired. Mike led first. We swung leads.







I snapped a couple of shots along the way, on his following pitches.

























The Claw has been credited with the dubious honor of theMastery of "Jiggery Pokery" in climbing.

Here he carefully disguises a kneebar from the camera, but this grasshoppersees all.




"Remains of the Day"

So named when Gareth and Ross found human remains on their first ascent. Funny guys.





I look forward to climbing again with him. And Sandra and I wishMike and Vanessa the most joy and happiness on their next, most extreme, unpredictable adventure they will ever undertake.





Call anytime, day or night,if you need help with that one Mike.



jj

Great Oakley to East Carlton via Pipewell and Wilbarston

From Mel Jarvis'sAround Corby Walk but clockwise. With Barry and Gordon. Lovely dry sunny morning with no wind. About 7 miles - no big climbs, but lots of high stiles!

Monks in sheep's clothing - on the site of Pipewell Abbey










Pipewell Abbey

The wide expanse of Pipewell/ Desborough airfield

Some info on the airfield If the link doesn't work first time try refreshing the page. No idea why!





Another link to a story from BBC People's War website mentions the airfield and more about Corby and Northants in WW2

One of several stiles

The path follows the line of the hedge

Worth a dollar or two?

Approaching Wilbarston

To be investigated?

Wilbarston

A carved tree at East Carlton

East Carlton Church

Wildlife - rabbits possibly a hare, definitely a fox running across the field with his brush flowing as he ran

No climbing today. Wedding only.

The wedding of Craig and Lotus.

This post is more for my own memory than anything else. Aknowledgements will be imcomplete. But thank you to all the special people who cast this spell.

Sandra and I talked the next morning about how we had all worked on so many details for so many months to make a majic moment. The majic doesn't last forever, but it leaves something special behind.

How to cast a spell: Prepare the space.




Aunty Lorelle showers the ground with rose petals.





Fill the air with the sacred ritual music of the Gamelan.







Bring together the beautiful bride and the nervous, terrifiedbut happy groom.





Perform the ceremony





Bring together fabulous guests from around the world.





Easy!





Now Jools from Panic Hair Bazaar performs her special girls majic.













I was quite busy for the day but I did get to take a few photos. You know, can't trust the professionals and all that.






































Mother and Daughter



Lotus and her Grandmother, Molly phoenix.











I can't take my eyes of this girl!

































Kirsten and Willow












The very fabulous wine from Mike Olsen of Cypress post.








The banquet team.









127 guests, plus the Gamelan and the band, Astrid and the Asteroids.
















The kids have thier own party.







It's a bake off. Sandra made cheesecake, Martha made tarts.



Can you believe this cake?



Willow, the Maid of Honor.



Dear friends.








I was there too.



The ruck.















The lovely guests.










































The perfect spell.

Measure!

I spend a lot of time measuring things. I measure my work in steel to .0001" or better. I get a consistent body weight every morning at a certain time to .1 of a pound. I want to know how hard I can climb on rock to the letter grade or how fast I run a 5 K to the second.



I want to know if I am in the black on a target. Is it in the X ring or just a 10. I want to know how many pull ups and sit ups I can do and my blood pressure and resting HR every morning. My Max HR on the bike and on a run. And I want to know what my dbl boots and my bikes weigh to the gram.



I measure because I want to do better. If you aren't measuring how do you know if you are doing better? The fact is you don't. The flip side of that is if you aren't getting better you are getting worse. If you don't measure you don't know what is better or what is worse. There is nothing that takes any kind of physical skill that stays the same for long. Use it or loose it. Measuring it will help you keep it or better yet get better at it.

Hallaton-Allexton-East Norton-Hallaton

Led by Barry, with Maureen and Gordon. Fine, chilly wind, muddy underfoot, some ice. Just over 10 miles in all.



Such a beautiful morning as I drive past the Welland Lake on my way to Hallaton. I haven't seen the valley so flooded for a long time, but with the sun sparkling on the water, I could live with it.



The roads are clear of snow, but some glisten with hoar frost, especially the higher roads near Eyebrook reservoir, and through Horninghold towards Hallaton. I shall probably keep regretting that I didn't stop to take photographs.



I meet the gang in Hallaton, and we brave the cold wind and set off along the Horninghold Road. We turn left along a footpath which runs across fields, almost parallel to the road. When we reach Horninghold village we turn right and then left just before the Hall, which looks as though it has converted its stables into rather exclusive apartments.



The route takes us northeast as far as Muckelburgh Farm, where we turn to the left and head due north until we meet Allexton Lane, which is more like a mud-track. We discover a body behind a hedge - his legs are plastic pipes, and his body is just old clothes - a scarecrow taking five?



At the Hallaton road we turn right towards Allexton. Belton is clearly visible behind Allexton. Before reaching the village we take a bridleway to the left, due west, more or less parallel to the A47. It crosses the stream and arrives at the main road at a lay-by. We cross the road and find the footpath a little way to the left.



We take shelter behind a hedge and indulge in a snack break. We plod on and are faced with four yellow posts to show the way. A quick look at the map and we make our choice. All is well, apart from the mud-hopping we need to do each time we meet a gate.

When we reach a road into East Norton we walk down it - past this rather strange character in a window

a novelty hatstand

and an irresistible bench.

Taking a breather at East Norton

We have to cross the A47 again, taking the old road to cut a corner, then along the road towards Hallaton for a short distance.

Decisions! Do we continue for two miles along the road, or do we turn east along a wide track which follows the ridge? We take the consensus, and the track wins. At this stage the wind is getting stronger and there's rain in the air. But we carry on boldly going. There's a junction - a surfaced road leads down to a farm, but our route goes ahead - across more mud. We arrive at a farm, labelled as Fearn Farm on the map. It has an obviously non-functional sign saying "Teas" and a sign declaring in German that it's a Zollgrenze or customs frontier. No one inspects our luggage or passports, so we carry on our merry muddy way.

We're following the route of the Leicestershire Round and the Macmillan Way here, but these fields are the muddiest yet, and sticky to boot. We have another snack break on the bridge over the dismantled railway, before tackling the last field, and joining the road near Hallaton Recreation Ground, walking past the duckpond and the Fox pub and we've done about 10 miles.

They didn't leak when I walked through puddles hoping to clean them!

of the route.