While in California, long before I ever considered a climbing trip to England, I was in college, climbing 5.10s in Joshua Tree, and beginning to get keen on bouldering. V5s and 6s were my limit and desert landscapes, scorching sunshine, and bright golden crystals of monzonite set the scene on my days out. Returning to the air-conditioned box of a friend's house in Redlands one day, we watched the film Hard Grit while lounging on the grungy couch drinking cold sodas. It was like looking through a peephole into another world. The film opened with mind-blowing footage of the route Gaia. The fall taken by Jean-Minh Trinh-Thieu, swinging and crashing into the arete below, breaking his leg, became forever etched into my memory.

I don't believe there's a climber alive who isn't inspired by the beautiful lines fround on the gritstone edges, and even though it was a very distant and hazy thing to me, back then, perhaps I imagined that one day I might improve enough in my climbing to one day give one of those routes a go.

Dating a Brit who grew up climbing in the Peak District, took me to England, and of course I fell in love with the place. Now I've been back several times to climb on the grit, and every time I visit I get to see new cliffs, new boulders, and my experience is richer. It is an incredible rock to climb, and the lines are truly inspiring. Add to that the intriguing game of finding a dry piece of rock -- text messages flying through the ether, to and fro between climbers in Ilkley, Sheffield, Manchester, Hathersage -- and you've got the makings of a fun-packed trip every time!

As for Gaia, it became a mission of mine early in 2006. I made up my mind to try the route and I arrived for just two weeks, hoping to figure it out and to have enough time to get the conditions I needed to make the lead. Placing the gear above the roof was awkward, because it is hard to see, and on one bad-friction day I tried to lead the line and took a few falls there, but all was well. That crux was killing me. I couldn't do the move the way taller climbers do it, as I just can't reach the key right hand side-pull from the good footholds. My method required more shoulder strength and a powerful press onto a poor smear. It felt brutal at first, but after a while I got it down, and all I needed was that good friction day to put it all together.

I had to wait a long time. Conditions were all over the place, and it felt like torture for nearly ten days, constantly hoping for good friction, and being too amped at night to sleep properly. You have to be patient on the grit if you don't want to get hurt. And to me, no route is worth getting injured over. We all have our ups and downs, good days and bad, and I try not to force myself when things aren't right.

The pressure built until my videographer friends, my belayer Justin Wood, and I set off to the cliff on the very last day before we were to fly back to the states. It was Easter break, and that Sunday brought hordes of people strolling past the base of the route, which is front and center when you walk up from the popular parking lot. Even though I had arrived fairly early that Sunday morning, a faint drizzle delayed my attempt and when I finally led the line there were plenty of weekend visitors looking on.

On past headpoints I've done, the routes have always felt more solid on the lead than they did to toprope. This route was not that way. It's easy to see how a climber's confidence can flip-flop, and obviously you can't allow that to happen while leading an E8. I knew I could hold my nerve, but even so, it came as a bit of a surprise how hard the climbing felt on the sharp end, and after a slight loss of focus (a quick flash of Jean-Minh's fall went through my mind!), I had to calm myself down to finish the climbing across the slab. Being able to control my fear felt super good, and gave me one of the best feelings of accomplishment I've ever had.

The onlookers had no idea what I was climbing, or why it should mean so much to me that I would be screaming out "YES!" as loud as can be, and was punching the air the moment I reached the top! It makes me laugh now, as no doubt they had seen plenty of other people climb routes without making any kind of fuss about it. I can imagine the parents turning to their children and saying, "Yes, son, that's an American ..."

Lisa Rands

Lisa wants to put a shout out to Justin Wood (her very patient and encouraging belayer), and to Ben Moon of Moon Climbing and his wife Jo for their generous hospitality: THANKS!

Thanks also to Josh Lowell of Big Up Productions, for use of his images.