Name: Club Climbing Night
Start: 2026-09-03T18:00:00+01:00
End: 2026-09-03T21:00:00+01:00
Location: Dalkey Quarry

Snowdonia Patrol

(by Gerry Moss, October 2010)
We struck it lucky this time, with some glorious weather and, with almost a score of members on the meet, the good times were grasped with enthusiasm.

Always blessed with a keen sense of self-preservation, I had the good fortune to find myself under the care of Margaret and Martina and was looked after right royally for the weekend. In return I introduced them to some of my favourite outings in Snowdonia. We travelled over on the early boat on Friday morning, and with rain promised for the afternoon, what better plan than to climb on the seacliffs of Gogarth, only minutes from the Holyhead ferry terminal. And what better introduction to the famed Gogarth Grip than The Dream of White Horses?

As we progressed across the route the winds steadily increased and there were a fair few white horses on show. While belaying on the first pitch we heard a shout from above and Padraig and Alan came to join in the fun. By the time I launched out on the last pitch the wind was playing havoc with the ropes and they were jumping all over the place like whirling dervishes. The rain had arrived too, first in short bursts, then heavy and more prolonged, adding a little frisson of excitement to proceedings, with Alan finishing the route in a downpour.

But all’s well that ends well.

The scene at Tremadog the next day was entirely different, with blue skies, sunshine and a strong IMC contingent.

This time the girls did all the work at the sharp end while I followed at leisure. A rake of routes was produced, with Poor Man’s Peuterey, Christmas Curry, Grim Wall, Striptease, One Step in the Clouds and The Plum being just some of the lines tackled.

Sunday was another good day, pleasantly warm in the sunshine, though decidely cooler in the shade. It was an ideal day for being out and about, and everyone took full advantage of the conditions. We three headed for the early morning sun on Tryfan’s East face, choosing the marvellous outing of Grooved Arete to lead us to the summit via eight pitches on rock that was dry and clean, albeit a little polished at times. Although early at the carpark below the mountain, we were dismayed to see the line of people winding their way up the track ahead of us. Luckily, they were all headed for the North East ridge and we were pleasantly surprised to be the first to arrive at the start of the climb.

High up on the route we lost the sun and entered the shade, …

… where temperatures were a good deal lower, but the weather remained fine and the summit, when reached, was in glorious sunshine.

After the traditional, death-defying leap across the awesome gap between Adam and Eve, we scrambled back down the NorthEast ridge to bring a great mountain day to a close.

Meanwhile, as we were on the sunny side of Tryfan, Donal, Eric, Joe and Peter were on the cooler Sub-Cneifon Rib, another mountain route, on Glyder Fawr, while Alan and Padraig were on the even colder long route of Slanting Buttress on Lliwedd’s north face. Across from us as we climbed, we had a fine view of the sunny Carneddau summits, where Debbie and Solvig were stepping it out. Not to be outdone, Aileen and Allister climbed Snowdon via the airy Crib Goch, while Eoin explored the region closer to the hut. Kieran, Declan, Tim, Rob and Terrance opted for climbing further south, on the sunny Moelwyns, where the routes climbed included Slack, Slick, Pinkie and Kirkus Direct.

Monday brought even better weather, with unbroken sunshine, and from the South Stack carpark on Holyhead mountain the Wicklow mountains could be clearly seen on the horizon. In typical IMC fashion, we were returning home on several different sailings, so while some opted for climbing on Holyhead Mountain or Gogarth, more were active on Braich Ty Du and others managed a bit of shopping for gear before catching the early boat.

We rounded off a great weekend with a pleasant and atmospheric climb up Lighthouse Arete on the Castell Helen seacliffs. Only a ten minute drive from the boat terminal and a three minute walk-in, this is ideal for a short day.

A committing 60m abseil down to the water’s edge is followed by some delightful climbing back up the cliff to the ab point.

We were based in Ty Powdwr, the Karabiner Mountaineering Club’s hut, just above Llanberis, for the weekend. Commodious, clean and comfortable, its proximity to the mountains makes it an ideal base and it was a big hit with our members. Our thanks to them for allowing us the use of this fine hut.
Food for Thought

(by Gerry Moss, October 2008)
October weekend in Wales – eating, drinking, and climbing.

You know how it is yourself. You wait ages for a bus, then two come along together. Well, similarly, an age-old IMC custom lay languishing in the doldrums, in danger of becoming nothing more than a folk memory, consigned to the scrapbooks of yesteryear. Then along comes a most unlikely white knight to recapture the glory of earlier days. Slim, slight, petite even, someone you would consider more suited to the haunts of the café latte clientèle, rather than the abode of the brash and brawny. Someone you could knock over with a feather. And therein lies the nub of the matter.

Saturday got off to a cool, windy, but dry start, and the early birds got some climbing in before the rains came, and come they did, and on rising winds. So the rock was abandoned for the N/E ridge of Tryfan, on the summit of which our heroes were tossed hither and thither, buffeted and bossed by the gales. Picking herself up for the umpteenth time, Aileen decided enough was enough, and vowed to take evasive action. Back down in Llanberis, she marched into Pete’s Eats, slapped her money on the counter and demanded that he hit her with everything he had. Obliging as ever, Pete staggered out some time later with not one, but two Big Jim Specials, one for her and one for Pádraic (and we’re not talking greasy spoon scenario here, rather something more on the line of a greasy shovel). Then under the watchful eyes of Allister, Peter and Margaret, the two of them set to work. Matching each other bite for bite, belch for belch, they continued the heroic struggle until the two extra-large dishes were wiped clean, thus taking their rightful places alongside such former stalwarts as Joe Hobbs and Brian Searson. Where do they put it all – listen, forget your carbon footprint, we’re talking carbohydrate footprints here, and of gastronomical proportions. I have it on good authority that Pádraic survived for the rest of the week-end on tea and dry toast.

Needless to say, there was an eagerness to work all of this off on the Sunday, and twelve of us, more dirty dozen than apostle-like, headed up to the Idwal Slabs.

Operating within our own time zone, we were the first to arrive at the foot of the gleaming sheets of rock, and if the gleam was due more to dampness than sunshine, sure wasn’t the dust kept well at bay, and the sunshine appeared later.

With Genevieve and myself in the van, closely followed by Conor and Jane, who were just ahead of Cearbhall and Martina, shadowed in turn by Allister and Aileen and, last but by no means least, Peter, Pádraic and Margaret bringing up the rear, we polished off pitch after pitch of sometimes dry, sometimes damp, but always clean, rock. The whole ensemble being ably directed from base by Liam.

It was at the top of the slabs that the newcomers discovered the truth of the old saw that it’s not all over until the fat lady sings, and in fact the old dear hadn’t even begun to clear her throat. In typical Celtic fashion, the descent began with a stiff and steep upward climb, that went on for quite some time, to be followed by an even steeper section of backclimbing that led, eventually, to the gully bed and the downward path.

In addition to Tryfan, Snowdon was also accounted for, with Allister putting his mountain skills to good use. And what would the October week-end be without putting hand to rock. We climbed in The Pass, Ogwen, Idwal and Holyhead.

Our thanks to Gwydyr Mountaineering Club for the use of their well-appointed and well-positioned hut, it provided cosy accomodation at a modest price. Perhaps the fact that the hut was formerly a chapel had something to do with the gods looking kindly upon us.

We had good weather, bad weather, wind, rain, cloud and sunshine and, as usual, we coped with it all. We gathered in the evenings around the blazing fire in the cosy bar attached to the local hostelry, Tyn-y-Coed Inn, for sustenance, refreshments and chat about the day’s escapades.

Bara Brith is a well known, and popular, traditional Welsh cake, but Snowdonia is your original cut-and-come-again cake. Any wonder we left with sharpened appetites – like young Oliver Twist, we’ll be asking for more.
Snowdonia

(by Gerry Moss, from IMC Newsletter Autumn 2004)
It’s the region of heart’s desire! Small wonder then, that the October Bank Holiday meet to Snowdonia, in North Wales, is a long-standing, and popular, IMC tradition.

Ably organised for decades by Des Doyle, the patter of little feet has lured him to fresh fields and pastures new in recent years, and the meet has faltered a little as a result. It is high time to get it back on track Snowdonia was, and is, an inspired choice of venue for the October week-end. There is something here for all tastes, and all talents. Indeed, if you haven’t experienced Snowdonia’s mountains or crags, there is a huge gap in your climbing C.V.

Walking/Scrambling

The Snowdon Horseshoe, which includes the airy Crib Goch arête, lies at the head of Llanberis Pass and provides the finest mountain outing south of the Scottish Border. The ascent of Tryfan via the NE Ridge, followed by the Bristly Ridge to the Glyders and a descent by the Devil’s Kitchen, gives another great mountain day. The Carneddau provide a higher, longer version of the Galtees, with a stiff pull up, followed by a long, gently undulating ridge walk, with superb views. Further south, the shapely Cnicht, known as the Matterhorn of Wales, can be combined with the Moelwyns for a great day’s walking. All of these outings provide ideal training for the Alps.

Rock Climbing

‘Rock climbing in Snowdonia’ by Paul Williams, details almost 500 climbs on 77 crags in the area (and this is just a selection!). Tiger, crag-rat, traditionalist, mountaineer; all are equally well served. You can choose to follow in the footsteps of some of Britain’s most noted climbers: Kirkus, Edwards, Pigott, Allan, Brown, Whillans, Fawcett, Dawes and Redhead, all contributed to the store of fine routes in this region.

For those climbing at V.Diff/Severe/H.Severe level there are many classic mountain routes, ranging from half to full day outings, some of them depositing the climber on top of summits as high as 3000 feet. For example, the Idwal Slabs, (a much larger version of the Bearnagh Slabs) with multi-pitch Diffs, V.Diffs and Severes at a user-friendly angle, lead on to a higher tier, which, in turn, leads to the final band of climbs below the summit of Glydyr Fawr. And there are plenty of roadside crags too, offering oodles of shorter climbs in the same grades.

For those wanting to climb at higher grades the list is just as long. Llanberis Pass for example, boasts 12 crags, (including the slate quarries) with traditional routes from Diff right up to E8. Many of these are two or more pitches in length.

If you tire of climbing in the mountains, an hour’s drive will bring you to Tremadog, often in sunshine while cloud sits on the hills, where several road-side crags give multi-pitch routes from severe upwards on good rock, in a lovely, sylvan setting, just above sea-level. And when you tire, or feel like a break, just drop down to Eric’s Roadside Cafe, for a bacon butty, beans on toast or a mug of hot tea.

And I haven’t even mentioned the sea-cliffs of Gogarth, only a five-minute drive from where the boat docks. If you haven’t experienced the Gogarth Grip, you haven’t experienced sea-cliff climbing at it’s best.

Weather

Nor is rain (and it has been known to rain) as great a spoilsport there as it is at the Burren or Fairhead, for example. There are numerous clean, classic routes that go in all weathers, e.g., the nine-pitch Slanting Buttress on Lliwedd; the deep, dark slit of Lockwood’s Chimney (a penitential exercise for the obese, a hen’s race for skinny little geeks like yours truly); the Hyll-Drem Girdle, a four-pitch HVS that sneaks along under a huge roof, keeping you snug and dry, while the rain cascades off the lip; and, at Tremadog, you will find climbers on many of the routes in all weathers.

Climbing Wall

If you really must avoid the rain, The Beacon Climbing Wall, just outside Llanberis, is about four times the size of the UCD wall, with a large, separate bouldering area and a café.

Gear

You can shop till you drop in Llanberis (2), Capel Curig (1) or Betws y Coed (4) gear shops, (Joe Brown’s, in Llanberis, gives 10% discount on production of an up-to-date IMC card). If you are in the market for rock-boots, the large selection of makes on offer is bound to please.

Food

If you haven’t gorged yourself in Pete’s Eats, you haven’t lived. I have seen strong men brought to their knees by the sight and scent of the Big Jim Special.

Accommodation

Traditionally we have based ourselves near Llanberis, only an hour’s drive from the boat and close to the hills and crags, most frequently in Jesse James’ Bunkhouse (that’s the owner’s name, honest), a down-to-earth, basic bunkhouse, but with a good kitchen, a spacious common-room/dining room, and a passable drying room. At the minute there is plenty of room available, at a cost of £10 Stg per night, but there is always a run on accommodation in Snowdonia on that particular weekend, so we need to move fast on this, as it is a case of first come, first served. And, as Jesse runs it on a commercial basis, a hefty deposit must be paid in advance, in order to secure places.

A Word

The days at the end of October are shorter, much shorter, than September days. IMC folklore is full of tales of members thrashing about in the dark, struggling to find the correct, safe way down off these steep, cliff-studded mountains, due to a lack of appreciation of the difficulties involved, and the time required to complete the route before darkness. If you intend tackling any of the mountain routes a headtorch is a decided advantage, but an early start is a definite must. I speak from years of experience on this one.

Ferries

Ex Dún Laoghaire
Stena Line HSS (100mins.)
Departs D.L.: 11.10 16.05 21.45
Departs H.H.: 8.55 13.45 18.30

Ex Dublin Port
Irish Ferries Cruise Ship 3hr15min.
Depart Dub. 09.05 21.05
Depart H.Hd. 02.50 15.00

Note: I haven’t given the times for the Dublin Swift, which is quite a small boat, and not a good bet in October, as Autumnal gales may cause cancellation.

Ex Dublin Port
Stena Line Cruise Ship 3hr15min.
Depart Dub. 08.30 (Sun-Fri) 08.15 (Sat.) 21.15 daily
Depart H.Hd. 02.30 14.30

Fares Depends on which service, or combination of services you choose. Both lines have a website, (www.stenaline.ie, www.irishferries.com). It makes sense to have a group of four per car, where feasible. Talk to your fellow members.

Finally

So, there you have it. There has already been expressions of interest from some of the old hands, and this will present newcomers to Snowdonia with an ideal chance to tag along, or tap in to their knowledge and experience. We will give all the assistance and advice we can, and try to point you in the direction best compatible with prevailing conditions. The rest is up to you.

Croeso Yspryd Eryri. Welcome to the Spirit of Snowdonia!
Pembroke meet

(by Rachel Cinnsealach, from IMC Newsletter Autumn 2004)
A weekend in Wales, with climbing, craic, and a serious accident.

On Friday 30th July, a group of enthusiastic IMC climbers departed Dublin and drove to Rosslare to catch the 9.30 pm ferry to Pembroke. Dairín, Dave Dye, Martina, Denis, Marcus and Rachel met up with some of the Dal Riada crowd at the port and boarded the boat. As it was a Friday evening, a few drinks were consumed on board and it made the crossing an enjoyable affair.

Arrived in to Pembroke about 12.30 and docked, It was about 2.00 am by the time we got to the campsite, where we all fumbled about in the dark, pitching our tents. Saturday morning, all us were up bright and early … not, but we did manage to get up, breakfasted and on the road by about 11.00 am. It was a glorious day. The group split in two. One half went off to Govens East and the rest of us headed off with Toni Burd to Crystal Slabs.

The day was amazing, the climbing was not difficult or taxing at Crystal Slabs, but just really, really enjoyable, We set up an ab rope, and abseiled right down; the cliff was so large, that the 60 metre rope did not reach the bottom of the climb and hence a second rope had to be attached. This was an experience for all of us, using our prussiks to anchor ourselves as we swapped ropes; I must add Toni was an absolute superstar, almost like our personal guide for the day, talking us through different situations. All of us led one or two long climbs and thoroughly enjoyed the experience of climbing a sea-cliff route, with the sea bashing around beneath you.

Embedded within the cliff was a mini cave, which you could crawl right through, and out the other side, here you got a view of the other crags, an amazing experience, being half way up a cliff and crawling though a cave. The tide was quick to come in, hence the second and third times we abseiled down, we could not belay from the bottom. Hence we had to set up hanging belays and belay from the cliff itself; again this was a new experience for most of us, and invaluable experience. It was really great that the climbs were of VD to HS standard, so we could learn all then new techniques in complete comfort. We returned to Pembroke about 10.00 that evening after a long day of climbing.

However, all was not good. When we arrived back to the campsite, about 11.00pm that evening, we heard there had been an accident. This hit us all really hard. One of our fellow members, Marcus, had been climbing with the Dal Riada group and had taken a lead fall. The folks climbing with him at the time, Steve McMullen and Paul Harrington, were absolutely fantastic in the situation; they administered first aid, they did not move Marcus, but removed his harness and shoes, they talked to him and kept him as comfortable as possible. Jules, a doctor from UCDMC climbing club was also present and she came down to help out, while waiting for helicopter rescue to arrive. Marcus was brought to Swansea Hospital. The above incident was a big shock for all of us, and I guess there are a number of lessons to be learnt from it. All climbers should take responsibility for themselves. It is beneficial to attend courses such as the SPA training, to learn techniques, and to practice gear placements and techniques at a low level with experienced climbers about, before leading at your limit. It is also worthwhile for all members of the club to have first aid training, so that they can help out in situations should they arise.

The following day, we got up about 9.30-ish; again it was a gorgeous beautiful sunny day. Dave kindly said he would drive to Swansea, to visit Marcus, and “the girls” were to accompany him. Ralph had arrived the previous evening on his bike, and was buzzing to get some climbing done. We split up; Denis decided to climb with Ralph at Saddle Head, and the rest were to join them on their return from Swansea.

Saddle Head is an excellent climbing spot, for those that are looking to lead VD – VS type level. Again it is necessary to ab into the climbs; however, the climbs are shorter than at Crystal Slabs and no hanging belays are necessary. Again, even with the late arrival, all of us got some good climbing in, and by the end of the evening we were all buzzing to do more, each of us with our own targets and goals, and each of us wanting to come back to lead new routes.

We returned to the pub for a night of drunken debauchery. The Dal Riada crowd had headed off to Huntsmans and we met up with them, at this stage we were no longer Martina, Dairín, Denis, Ralph, Dave and Rachel, but had decided to get into the Welsh spirit and were answering to the names of Gwyneth, Gladys, Garent, Edwin and Hue. Leaving the pub at 11.30-ish, we headed back to the campsite, where the party continued in the “party tent” for some time after.

On the Monday morning, the weather was not as good; a faff-around day was had by all. We struck camp after a nice fry-up and headed down to White Haven beach for some swimming and bouldering, We boarded the ferry at 1.30, with our spirits still high; we had our de-naming ceremony to renounce our welsh names, and this was followed by a dancing ritual on deck, I must admit we did get some strange looks. An exhausted but contended crowd drove back from Rosslare to Dublin on Monday evening.
The Cave and the Colonel

(by David Craig, from IMC Newsletter, Spring 2007)
"Sitting there, with one arse cheek on a ledge, my knees wedged under my chin, and my head lolling on the wall in front of me, listening to the sea booming away in the darkness, the scary truth dawned on me… we were NEVER going to live this down!"

With the two of us crouched on a belay ledge perched in the rafters of a sea cave in Pembroke, watching the water below lose the last of its light as it faded from a dark purple to merge with the blackness of the rest of the cave, the thought crossed my mind “isn’t this supposed to be a holiday”. Holidays have become an odd thing for me, not the holidays themselves, but trying to explain to work colleagues and other non-climber friends why one would rather spend a week struggling up crags and hills in wet and windy Wales rather then relaxing on sunny beaches in the Med.

This holiday was to prove no different. It started with a leisurely cruise from Rosslare to Pembroke, where we stocked up on supplies, had a bit of lunch and pondered our next move. This being a Thursday, and June, didn’t leave us much choice as a lot of the crags in the area have restrictions for climbers until late July, so they don’t disturb nesting birds, and mid week the army like to blow the be-Jaysus out of them since they are located in a military firing range. How you justify having these two things in the same place I’m not sure, but that’s how they do it. Eventually we settled on a route we thought wouldn’t give too much trouble, as a way of easing into things. There were no bird restrictions and the army would be finished firing by the time we got there, it was perfect. “Sure wouldn’t that be a grand, nice soft one to start with” we said, a quick, slightly rising traverse across the bottom of the crag to a cave, back into this, and then up and out a blow hole – “what fun”.

These being sea cliffs you arrive at them from the top, abseil into your route and climb back out. Finding said route was to prove difficult and time-consuming though, as it can’t be seen from the top. I think the phrase in the guide book for locating it was something like “from the westerly end of the crag look back eastwards and you can see a large cave” not our cave now but it means you’re at the abseil point. Not a mention of just how many crags with caves there actually are on the Pembroke coast. This led to a lot of to-ing and fro-ing atop the cliffs in the hopes of spying a crag similar to the one we should be at. Once it was located, finding its westerly end was much easier as the sun at this stage was kindly setting so as to indicate west for us. Undeterred, because we new we’d be quick, we set off with only a brief thought about the head torches we didn’t have. After spending ages on the traverse along the bottom, I found myself bridging back along the apex of the cave groping for holds in the dark. A voice came from behind me saying “maybe we shouldn’t be doing this in the dark, maybe you should come back”. I considered this and came to the conclusion that even if I make it to the next belay it’ll be pitch black for Síle to come out and then there would still be another pitch to do, or to put it another way, was bricking myself and willing to accept any excuse to go back to the safety of the belay. Forward wasn’t going to happen so Síle tried to get us back out, but at this stage it was well and truly dark outside the cave as well, so that was that, we were benighted, FEK!!

Uncomfortable as it was we had managed to organise a decent belay and the sea was fairly calm despite the noise echoing around the cave, but no sleep was had which made for a long night. When it eventually started to brighten a quick foray was made into the cave, which showed it to be still quite dark and now wet and slippery to boot. Síle led us back out the way we had come which was also wet but at least there was daylight. After that an easy pitch should then have brought us back to safety, but on topping out the crackle of rifle fire let us know we had been out-flanked by the British army.

It didn’t take long for our presence to be noticed and the gate watchman to come careering out after us in his little white van, although he seemed more worried about the humor of the Colonel than about anyone getting shot or having spent the night in a cave. A lift back was offered and declined, and he rushed off to try to placate the Colonel. We gathered our gear and started sheepishly walking out, only to be met by a second vehicle, this one much fancier then the last, and out popped the much-feared Colonel. With the only thing more starched than his uniform being his upper lip. He launched his offensive “Spoilt the show you did, had to stop firing, still everyone’s all right, happy ending and all that, you’ll take a lift back?” My jaw dropped, only to clamp shut again as my teeth took a firm grip of my tongue as a surprised laugh tried to escape, we braced ourselves for the follow-up manoeuvre “not as bad as last week though, chap walked in front of the snipers, caused mayhem! Blighter!” He did, however, make it clear this lift wasn’t to be refused, so we jumped in as he ran off to investigate the remains of a caterpillar track on the cliff top, don’t ask me why. Leather seats though, it pays to be Colonel. A peculiar thing, sitting in the back of that truck as Síle related the story of our ordeal and the Colonel blathered on trying his best to be formidable, pondering the past 12 hours or so I found myself suppressing an overwhelming urge to sing … ’Who Do You Think You Are Kidding, Mr. Hitler?’

Snowdonia Patrol

Food for Thought

Snowdonia

Walking/Scrambling

Rock Climbing

Weather

Climbing Wall

Gear

Food

Accommodation

A Word

Ferries

Finally

Pembroke meet

The Cave and the Colonel