Everyone here, from professional climbers and guides, through all levels of ability to novices, are here to enjoy the rock – and the convivial atmosphere afterwards with barbecues, films and talks. A small Lake District climbing festival, Arc’Teryx Climbing Academy, seeks to set all that aside. The desire to belong to a group can easily tip over into a need to exclude others. Climbing, like other sports, can appear jargon-ridden and exclusive. “It can be a bit intimidating.” When we head out, we are already like a gang of mates heading for the rock, exactly what we all want “A lot of people I know would never dare come here,” says Amal from Wanderers of Colour, a community group who encourage people of colour to participate in activities that they might shy away from. I can’t believe how steep the walk up here was.” “I’ve climbed on every wall in London,” says Yichen, grinning with excitement. Our Italian climbing guide is checking the knots of someone from London’s Chinese community who has never climbed outdoors before. Here on the hillside we are breaking through all sorts of invisible fences. On the ropes … Climbers at Arc’Teryx Climbing Academy. But there are vast areas of potential outdoor fun cordoned off, either by real fences, or invisible ones: expansive territories of MoD land, the still-unfinished English coastal path, lakes and rivers. On top of this, attitudes have shifted and outdoor types have become much more inclusive. “The UK is lucky to have amazingly good climbing guidebooks – really useful if you’re just starting out,” says Alan James, chief executive at Rockfax, who recently started an app that gives comprehensive information on all UK climbing routes. Equipment, tuition and information are easier to come by. We are allowed to walk in areas once kept for a privileged few. Now, more than half a century later, I am sitting beneath Stickle Barn crag, not a mile from where that incident occurred, ruminating on the nature of access and opportunity. Climbing, like other sports, can appear jargon-ridden and exclusive “What the bloody ’ell are you doing ’ere?” I was escorted along a ledge and told to clear off. Halfway up a crag in Langdale, I was confronted by a burly chap wearing a red helmet. I pinched the washing line from the caravan site and sneaked off to do it too. Long ago, on a family trip to the Lake District, aged nine, I saw some men rock-climbing. It is not the first time I have had that life lesson. Mountain guide Mark Charlton instructs a novice climber.
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