North Wales

Shoop

A shoop is a singular sheep. fact. The phrase originates from old English but was dropped from everyday use circa the start of the great Industrial sheep revolution of 1854. Academics have speculated that the reason the word became lost was because of an exponential growth in the sheep population over this period, which resulted in no shoop ever being on his own, much to the disappointment of the Welsh. Thus the individual, or 'free', shoop declined into the extinction, replaced by a plethora of conforming sheep. 

Nevertheless a recent movement has begun, originating from a piglet, which aims to bring the shoop once more back into the realm of conventual language use. Hence some definitions are in order. The original description of a shoop was "an animal of Ovis Aries species which is geographically separated from other animals of the same species by a clear spacial delineation", for example separated by a wall or other obstructing barrier. 

This definition was criticized by Shoop experts, who argued that behavioral awareness on the part of the shoop was esstential to the classification process. Thus if a shoop is aware of other sheep, for example behind a barrier, then it is no longer a shoop but in fact a sheep. This initial research, lead to the creation of the Post-Shoop movement, who argued that any form of alienation whether through, class, grass, colour of fur, or mental deficiency can cause an otherwise happy sheep to transcend the lexical constraints of his conformist prison and become a 'free shoop'

The debate has sparked many philosophical question on the nature of falling shoop and we expect the research to continue with great abound in the near future. 

A shoop alienated by race

North Wales 

Another fun trip was enjoyed by all up in North Wales this weekend. CUMC went up-market for this trip, staying at a very swanky little hut, adjacent to their usual haunt at Eric barn underneath Tremadog. Eager to get out and about, we packed out stuff, jumped into the bus and positively gunned it to the infamous Slate quarries. It was around this point we found out that the brakes on our minibus didn't work, eeek! So with a lot of shifting down gears and a copious amount of handbraking, we arrived at the car park with hard slate on the mind. A dark gothic atmosphere pervades the senses as we carelessly trudge across the broken slag heaps to Dali's hole. Broken machinery and burnt out houses surround us. Jumping over the gate the group arrives at their first climbing venue; a short imposing quarried face opposing a deep, still pool of brightest blue water. 

Wasting no time, Steve jumps on Launching Pad, E1 whilst the others try there hand at the easy sports routes to the right. He gets to the crux which is a struggle, silence descends. He's got the clip, but is his contorted position going to allow the rope to clip? Everyone is watching... clip! success, the route is soon concluded. Andy then waltzes up the route, leading after Steve. Jamie tries Holy Holy Holy but doesn't trust the blind placements and can't commit to the crux. 20 minutes later he backs off. Aliaksei leads a VS to the left, whilst Lex follows. Sunshine periodically lights up the simmering faces, constantly being scattered by the broken scenery that surrounds us. 

Olly then wants to do California Arete. Jamie Olly Ryan and Mat walk through the old mining tunnels. Water drips down all around and the sound echoes in the hollowed out walls, apart from that, silence. The arete imposes high above us, its shear scale intimidating all but Olly. There is no gear, one slip anywhere on the route and you'll die mate. Death doesn't really matter to Olly.  He pads up to the crux at 20 metres, the rope is slack. The entire quarry is deserted, only this one figure high up on the route. Does he commit?.... No.... Death or glory aren't in store today. He climbs back down. 

A plethora of people- Andy, Steve Flash, Louise Aliaksei and Lex- climb Looning the Tube (E1). They have little difficulty.  A few more routes are climbed as the sun slowly sets and a fierce chill pervades the area. We retreat back home for dinner, more farts, crude jokes and sleep. 

Tomorrow we do the same. 

Later, the brakes fail.