Screen YOUR film at ShAFF 2009

Are you a budding or established film-maker who is making films about climbing, caving, mountaineering, surfing, BASE jumping, paragliding, bouldering, snowboarding, parkour, skateboarding, mountain biking, windsurfing, SCUBA diving, mine exploration, skiing, hang-gliding, ice-climbing, exploration, fell running, kayaking or any other activity which might fit under the term 'adventure', then we are looking for you!

If you fit the bill, or you know someone who does, and you think your/their film(s) might be suitable for screening at the Sheffield Adventure Film Festival in February 2009, then get in touch with me at briantrevelyan@hotmail.com and let me know about your film.



For ShAFF 2009, I'm working as film programmer, actively seeking new films to screen at the festival, so I'm interested in any films that might be appropriate, be they 5 minute shorts or hour-long professional documentaries.

The main festival programme features compilations of films, usually up to an hour long, but sometimes longer, often loosely grouped into common themes, such as snow sports, climbing or mountain biking. It makes no odds whether the film is made by a professional production company or one girl and a hand-held camera. What matters is that the film is interesting and/or exciting, has visual impact, hopefully says something or presents something in an original manner, and that the production values (visual and audio) are high enough for public screening on a full size cinema screen (we can determine that when you submit the film).



If you think your film fits the criteria, then don't be shy, get in touch and let's see it! If we decide it's not suitable for the main, ticket-selling programme, there is also a fringe programme where such films are shown in satellite venues for free. At ShAFF 2008, these drew audiences often as large as the main events!



In addition to these film programmes, ShAFF will also be screening a wide selection of the best adventure sports videos from YouTube. If you have a clip or film on YouTube, or have found one you think is good enough in quality and content, then please send us the link! Your help is valuable, and every link or suggestion is greatly appreciated.

For anyone who is interested in submitting a film, please note that we can not afford to pay you for the use of your film. However, there are several prize categories for films screened, to be judged at the festival's end, and your film could be a winner. Aside from that, you also get your film screened at a major adventure film festival, which is pretty cool in itself!



Information for submissions can be found at the useful documents page on the ShAFF website.

CLIFFHANGER 2008

On 12th and 13th of July 2008, Millhouses Park in Sheffield will play host to the second Cliffhanger Adventure Sports Festival, which will be bigger and better than ever.

The inaugural festival took place in Graves Park last year, during one of the wettest summers on record, and was plagued by torrential rain, turning parts of the site into a quagmire. Nonetheless, over 10,000 people visited the event over the 2 days, and feedback was overwhelmingly positive, visitors recognising the value of the festival, despite the atrocious weather (you may remember Sheffield had a bit of a flooding problem last year).

This year, the site is easier to access from the city centre, by public transport, foot, or bike, and is close to the Climbing Works, the superb state of the art bouldering wall, largest of its kind in the UK, which is owned and managed by Sheffield climbers Sam Whittaker, Graeme Alderson and Percy Bishton. It is also in the heart of the S7 and S8 postal districts, which are the areas of choice for many climbers to live in the city.

Organiser Matt Heason of Heason Events is this year, of course, hoping for better weather, which in mid-July is not an unreasonable expectation! He has arranged for an open-air celebration of all that makes the city of Sheffield a mecca for adventure sports enthusiasts of all kinds.

Sheffield nestles into the flank of the southern end of the Pennine hills, the 'backbone of England', which form the moors, hills and valleys of the Peak District. More than any other city in England, Sheffield has an intimate association with these hills, which extend eastwards into the city itself, forming the 'seven hills' for which it is famous.

Of course, Sheffield has, because of this proximity to the hills, with their plethora of gritstone crags and beautiful scenery, long been a magnet for hillwalkers and subsequently, rock climbers. The famous and pivotal Kinder Trespass, led by the late Benny Rothman in 1932, where ordinary working men and women defied the upper-class landowners, to claim their right of access to the Peak District Moors, included many ramblers from Sheffield and surrounding areas. Without them, we may not have the open access we enjoy now.

It's not all about climbing though! The Peak is nowadays a legendary mountain biking destination, featuring some stunning trails and desperately technical and rocky descents, pulling bikers from all over the UK and even Europe. Whilst they rattle and bounce down the rock steps of the White and Dark Peak, down below their feet, cavers squeeze through the tight fissures underlying the limestone dales, or spin in space in the mighty shaft of Titan, part of the Peak Cavern system near Castleton (seen below). Up above soar paragliders, riding the summer thermals as they launch off the high ridges.

Meanwhile, urban adventurers in the city itself ride skateboards and bmx bikes, at venues like The House, in Neepsend, or the Devonshire Green skatepark, or on the streets themselves, competing at times with the relatively new sport of Parkour, or freerunning, which is catching the imagination of young people all over the UK, practitioners of which can be seen in Hallam Square, in front of Hallam University's main entrance.

Most of these activities are represented at Cliffhanger. The festival is a celebration and promotion of Sheffield's historic and growing heritage, often unrecognised, as a centre for adventure sports. With the growing acknowledgement by the City Council (co-sponsors of Cliffhanger) of this facet of Sheffield's culture, perhaps it may lead to further capitalisation on the attractions of the City for participants in both urban and outdoor adventure. There was even talk of turning the Tinsley Cooling Towers into an extreme adventure centre, with huge bolted climbs up its walls, and bungee jumps from walkways across the tops. Sadly not to be, and perhaps an opportunity missed. But the people who enjoy events like Cliffhanger may influence such decisions in future.

For those who can live without adrenaline bursting through their arteries, the festival is also very much a spectator event, a chance to see some of the UK's finest climbers in action, and to watch demonstrations of less obvious outdoor activities, like bushcraft, or even iron smelting! If you like Ray Mears, then you'll love the bushcraft demos. There is a market, an angling competition, white knuckle fairground rides, a SCUBA pool for you to try diving, and loads more. Above all, it's a grand day out!

To give you a bit of a flavour, here's a youtube video of some of last year's festival:

If watching all the activity makes you want to take part, then join the orienteering ultra-sprint event, a short course direct from and back to, the festival site. After that, (or instead of it), relax with a pint or two from the CAMRA-run beer festival, this year featuring a beer brewed specially for the event by a local brewery!

Hope to see you there!

How I got into mountain biking

Me and Jude in Glencoe, 2004

I took up climbing whilst I was still at school, introduced to it by teachers and school trips. I'd always been crap at school sports and took every opportunity to skive out of them. maybe as a result of that I always tended towards being a bit of a chubber. Not fat, per se, but a bit padded.

With the discovery that I liked climbing, the first physical activity, apart from masturbation, which I had any real enthusiasm for, I began to change my physical shape, simply by getting out there and climbing. I became lean and fit, enhanced by my taking up running and yoga whilst at University.

I climbed throughout the 80s, but when I got married in 1988, my climbing gradually tailed off, and I saw less and less of my climbing friends. I kidded myself at the time that it was just a result of us drifting apart as we forged the courses of our own lives, but in reality, my (now ex-) wife didn't care for my climbing mates, or perhaps, for the amount of my time and affection which I devoted to them, and which she felt should be all devoted to her.

Whatever the reason, by the start of the 1990s, I was no longer climbing. Not only that, but my running also gradually tailed off, as I failed to set aside time for it amidst my household chores and sundry pieces of life. One day, around 1994, I was suddenly no longer a runner.

The result of the incremental decline in physical activity was that I began to put on weight and to get unfit. By 1998, I weighed 16 stones, compared to the 12 I'd been in 1990.

OK, we all put on a little weight as we age, but I was up to a 36" waist and found it hard to climb a flight of stairs without getting out of breath. I had to do something, so in desperation, I took up running again. I managed several runs of around 5 miles, and began to feel fitter again, though I was still overweight. I split up with my wife that summer, and even got a new, much younger girlfriend, like the classic mid-life crisis man.

The stress of that split caused me to lose my appetite, and weight fell off me (mostly muscle loss I suspect), until I was down to 12st 6lb by August 1998. That month, I spent a week camping in Dufton, in the Vale of Eden, and did some fell-walking and even a fell-run on one day. I was feeling spiritually low, but physically better than I'd been for years, due to the weight loss.

My dalliance with the younger woman fizzled out. There was no heart in it, and I decided to give it a go with my ex-wife again. After a long period of joint counselling from Relate, we got back together. My diet returned to normality and immediately, my weight began to climb again. I reached 14 stones before deciding I had to do something.

I'd tried to pick up running again, but was having problems - persistent shin splints. My GP suggested I was too heavy for running and should try swimming or cycling.

I'd swum in the mid-80s, when I suffered from knee trouble, but found it boring as hell, just plodding back and forth in the pool, even though it got me fitter than I'd ever been before. So I decided to buy a bike. I fancied a bike which I could use out on rough trails in the countryside; a mountain bike.

I'd not had a bike since I was at school, and knew little about them, so I began to pore over mountain bike mags, gleaning advice and information. I set a budget of £300, but ended up spending £500, in July 1999, on a shiny red Specialized Rockhopper, from Ellis Briggs in Shipley. I rode it home to Pudsey, and though it was hard work, I realised this was what I needed. It replaced both running and walking, getting me out into the countryside without damaging my already damaged legs even further, and without taking up an entire day, thus making it easier to fit into my life.

Unlike running or walking, there was an extra dimension, the dimension of speed. A fast downhill brought adrenaline pumping through my brain, and provided the link to my other long-abandoned outdoor love, climbing. It was perfect.

Below: The 1999 Specialized Rockhopper FS

More importantly than the thrills perhaps, it began to get me fit. I started to commute to work in Leeds, detouring along the way to reach the Leeds-Liverpool canal, whose towpath took me into the heart of Leeds. This sinuous route took almost 9 miles, compared to 7 at most on the most direct roads. But it was worth it, and I began to enjoy it more and more, the fitter I got.

Below: me and Horse in Glencoe, 2004


That was 8 years ago. I've since moved to Sheffield, but still commute every day on that same bike, though my commute is only about 3 miles each way now: less distance, but more hills (for those who know Sheffield).

The commuting got me somewhere resembling fit again, but the real joy came when I began to venture out onto the moors and do some 'proper' mountain biking. My skills developed, and although I still can not do a bunny-hop or pull a wheelie, I can ride most of what I come across, wherever I may be.

Through mountain biking, I renewed friendships with people I'd not spoken to in years, and visited parts of the country I'd not seen in over a decade. Most importantly, I found a new facet to a life that had grown stale, and that facet continues to lead me into new territory.

I've never had much money, and lately, things have been extremely tight, financially, due to heavy debts left over both from my and Jude's divorces. As a result, I've kept the same old Rockhopper, replacing parts as they wore out until only the springy steel frame is original, and even that's been bent by occasional crashes. This year, therefore, I determined to buy a new bike, one which would better suit the rocky downhills of the Peak District. One, in other words, with full suspension! I was getting fed up of teeth-jarring, arse-kicking bouncing down steep rocks, and felt the need for more control and more comfort.

There were so many to choose from, I had to do a world of research on each and every one I came across that seemed to fit the bill. I looked at new ones, second hand ones and ex-demo ones, until my head ached. Until, that is...one day... I looked on ebay and there was this bike, made by Canadian bike giants Norco. Only 3 months old, not ridden much, top spec parts throughout, and on offer at almost half what it was costing in the shops!

Catch? There was none. The seller was a reputable guy, good ebay ratings and feedback, a Cytech bike mechanic. I placed my bid and got the bike, all £3,000 worth (if you were to buy it in a shop, that is!). No-one else bid on it. For some reason, the Norco brand hasn't really caught on here, despite good reviews in the press for all their bikes.

It cost a lot of money (for me) but it was worth every penny I'd saved up for it.

This is it. It's a Norco Six SE (the SE stands for Special Edition)...



For the bike-minded amongst you, this is its specification:
Frame: Hydroformed Aluminium
Swingarm: Hydroformed Aluminium
Fork: Fox 36 Talas RC2, 20mm, 100-160mm
Rear Shock: Fox DHX Air 5.0, 7.875 x 2.25" 145 or 165mm
Headset: Chris King
Rear Hub: Mavic Crossmax SX 135mm
Front Hub: Mavic Crossmax SX 20mm
Spokes: Mavic
Rims: Mavic Crossmax SX
Tyres: Bontrager Big Earl Tubeless
Shift Levers: SRAM X-0
Front Derailleur: E-13 DRS, Shimano XTR
Rear Derailleur: SRAM X-0
Cassette: SRAM PG-990, 11-34, 9 speed
Chain: SRAM PC-970
Crankset: TruVativ Stylo OCT, GXP 24/36
Bottom bracket: TruVativ GXP
Seatpost: Titec Scoper telescopic 30.0
Seat: WTB SLT Rocket V, with Titanium Rails
Bar: Synchros Race Gain 35mm Rise
Stem: Synchros Race
Grips: ODI Lock-On's
Brakes: Avid Juicy 7 with 150mm Rotors
Brake Levers: Avid Juicy 7
Pedals: Time ZZ freeride
Colour: Anodised Gold

Yes. GOLD! I am indeed a pimp on wheels. Or would be if a combinatiuon of illnesses, DIY demands, social events and shite weather hadn't kept me off the trails between August and now. In four months I've onlt ridden it in anger ONCE! That's not really on, and is an insult to a great machine. Well, I have 10 days off now, and I'm just about over my cold, so I will get out on it soon. There's a christmas to do, but then....vroom!

Mountain biking doesn't have the spiritual dimension that walking or mountaineering has: you're concentrating too hard on what you're doing, much of the time, to fully commune in any reflective way with your environment. To get that diimension, you need to stop and sit down and watch the sky and let it flood your soul. Then you can capture that same communion. Not all mtbers (as mountain bikers dub themselves) seek a spiritual element, but I do. It's part of why I'm out there.

Check out these images of riders in the Peak District. This is what I'm talking about...

The Epic

I went climbing on Friday. First time I've been on the rock for about a year! I did far more mountain biking and even walking last year than climbing, but this year I'm determined to do more climbing. After all, it's something I've been doing for 28 years and I don't want to become an ex-climber. I get far too much from it for that to happen.
I had a day off work, intending to use the good weather to trim back the big weeping willow in the garden. My mate John 'Simmo' Simpson rang, to arrange a mountain bike ride for Saturday, and on hearing I had the day off, suggested I come climbing with him and his mate Alex. Hmmm...climbing in the early spring sunshine, on God's own rock at Stanage, or climbing a tree to saw dead branches? Contest? I think not.
So a sunny but chilly afternoon saw the three of us stretching our collective rusty joints and muscles on the 'soaring crackline' of Robin Hood's Right-Hand Buttress Direct (HS4a), Inverted V (VS4b), Twin Chimneys Buttress (VS4c) and Heather Wall (VS4c).
Bloody hell it was good to be climbing again after such a long lay-off! I was a bit creaky and my confidence isn't all it should be, so VS is about as much as I felt up to, but I'm determined now to try and get on the crag more regularly. Maybe I'll finally get round to screwing my plastic holds to the outside of the house to finish my traversing wall, and maybe I'll even replace my 20 year old Scarpa Cragratz with some more modern footwear (probably just get 'em resoled again though).

Below: looking up the groove of Inverted V to the exposed finishing moves (Photo by James Parratt, from the UKClimbing.com photo database. Climber: James)



Below: Heather Wall (Photo by Lizard, from UKClimbing.com database. Climber: Amanda James)



Incidentally, we went out on the mountain bikes yesterday, setting off from Castleton for a circuit more or less around Mam Tor, taking in much of Rushup Edge and the hairy descent down the Chapel Gate track. It was a great little circuit, even though I had a bit of a skidding nightmare on the technical descent to Greenlands from the Mam Nick bus stop. The mud was so sticky it just clogged my tyres up and I lost any grip. The slightest touch on the front brake or change of direction simply sent the bike sideways. How Simmo managed to stay on I don't know. It didn't help that my Time cleats are so worn that my left foot comes unclipped at every bump. Not good when you're flying down a rocky obstacle course at speed. Must replace them, although the shoes are falling apart as it is. Maybe time to look on ebay and see if I can find some cheap replacements.

Hmmm...I haven't got any recent pics of me climbing. The best I have are these:

Below: Me on Lancet Crack, VS5a, Brimham, in 2004 (Photo by Simon Jacques)...



Me on Great Western, Almscliff, in 2003...



I had a minor epic on Great Western, which puts me in mind of this poem which I wrote, about having an epic on a hard climb...

The epic

This is easy, even fun.
Climbing up past cracks,
their protection eschewed in misplaced confidence.
Moving smoothly, strongly upwards,
unknowingly striving towards a desert
of fear and unexpected exhaustion
(you'll know it when you get there)
Movement falters then stops
with a sudden stab of regret
at those ignored cracks.
Cast adrift in a sea of rising panic,
as veins bulge like wire,
and arms begin to sing their fading song.
The grey stone sighs and hums,
looking the other way,
offering nothing to help.
No relief, no purchase, another loser, NEXT!
Shaking and sweating,
panicked grimace versus cold face
staring impassively, eyeless,
at, through and beyond,
indifferent to the drama of the personal
and the frailty of the organic.
Death whispers in the distant ground,
the final spotter, reliable to the end,
transmitting a silent siren call
up the rope’s increasingly dead weight.
The imaginary creep of rubber on rock,
the start of sweat from face and finger,
breed sheer fear.
Legs burn and scream.
Arms fossilise, cement-like.
Looking up in desperation,
as hunter becomes hunted,
with all tables turned.
Now it’s fight or a free flight
to your final destination.
Here come your final moments,
seconds from the end of all things.
Fingers whiten in their grip on disappearing life,
as the other hand is whitened,
catching in the bag,
then reaching up.
Iron calves are bellowing
like old machines made to turn.
A hand of pink bananas, all thick skin and mush
finds sanctuary in the everted cathedral,
A salty echo of the sea
falls from a sniveling nose
through an eternity of empty air
to explode against another dimension.
Soon to be followed by a redder splash?
The white knuckles ride
on the Ultimate, Oblivion, Nemesis!
But sanctuary is squared!
Feet now skitter and scrape in a bad dance.
Engines misfire and cough,
sucking the dregs of fuel.
Death laughs now and opens his arms.
The rubber and rock find a new embrace.
Ridiculous banana finger parodies
make the cold face crack a thin smile.
The joke is shared!
Holding on, looking down,
fumbling for aeons with heavy jewellery.
Looking for the right bling to keep that grin.
Offering accepted, the dead weight of purple cord,
still touching death’s disappointed sulk down below,
adds years of life with just one automatic action.
One clip.
The Cumbrian Rope Trick.
One clip brings
life,
sun,
wind,
sound,
a universe
which seconds ago wasn’t there.
The beckoning ground is now above,
just out of sight,
almost within reach.

That was originally posted by me on the multi-faceted forum community at Fex Wezner's Art Forum. You can be sure to find a forum on there to suit you.