Progression to Rock

I deliberated about today's Blip. Photographically its awful, but it is, visually at least, very representative of my day.
Today I was back instructing climbing - helping beginners, young & old, try 'real' rock climbing, that is, outside, for the first time with Lancashire Mountaineering Club, one of the most active progressive clubs we currently have. Even under a gorgeous blue sky down at the foot of the climbs it was a 3 jackets and a hat kind of cold, but up at the top (if you could find some shelter from the sharp wind) it was tshirt time - even better when other helpers brought you a steaming mug if tea.
The venue was a dichotomy for me; on the one hand the disused quarries up on the moors above Bolton, shared with a litter lout gun club, are not how I'd (now) choose to introduce anyone to the wonders of the world of climbing - but on t'other - they're where I learnt my trade & spent my evenings after work in the late 80's & 90's. When I dug out my 1989 Lancashire guidebook I'd scribbled the word "Grotty" next to Wilton Quarry 3, probably some time around the winter of 1993 which is where my entries & ticks left off. I know I've not been back for at least a couple of decades.

But today there were over 40 people wanting to give climbing a go - and in their eyes I saw that same wonder - the physical world wrought much larger internally for them as they strove to cling on & inch upwards - the pre- climb chat about how they'd be completely safe at all times now clearly forgotten, as each of then conquered their own Dawn Wall.
Some of course will never return, will simply be glad to say they've tried - but a few (& you could see from the grins and the little adrenaline charged hops from foot to foot who they were) will be back for the next session.