6A is NOT 6a

Please, let's stop mixing up the Font 6A (assigned to boulders) with the French 6a (assigned to sports routes).

• If it's a capital letter that follows a number, it's a boulder grade.
• The hardest move on a 6A boulder is way harder than the hardest move on a 6a line.

In the big picture of things, grades hardly matter. I quote from a post from Climbing.com:

“Numbers got no soul. People need to get over that stuff.”

But we need to understand what grading systems mean. Because, otherwise, we won't be able to read guidebooks properly.

Here's a quick side note: In my home crag, we used to rate climbs with the Yosemite Decimal System (YDS). For example: 5.9, 5.11a, etc.

But as more local climbers traveled and worked abroad, they came back describing routes in the French system.

I prefer the French system for sports routes and the Vermin system for boulders. I can't explain why.

Five-Foot Walkways in Iloilo

Five-foot ways were used by everyone for everything: by the nosy for gossip, by children for their games, by hawkers to sell their wares and by vagrants for shelter.

- Selina Siak Chin Yoke
The Woman Who Breathed Two Worlds

The quote is from a book about a Nyonya who grew up in Penang, Malaysia. She describes a building feature which also happens to be a common fixture in downtown Iloilo City.

Five-foot walkways represent a time when streets and walkways were public gathering spaces. It was built at a time when commerce and daily life were interwoven: people lived above their shops; you didn't have to go out of your way to buy anything because everything you need is along the way.

The five-foot way was a path, protected from the elements, that is shared by private enterprises and the public.

This is a quote from a 1993 article called "The Shophouse Rafflesia: An Outline of its Malaysian Pedigree and its Subsequent Diffusion in Asia" by Jon S.H. Lim:

The term 'five-footways' is a colloquial expression from Anglo-Asian origin, made up from two parts: 'five-foot' is a literal translation from kakilima or goh kaki, a Malay and Hokkien term respectively, and 'way' which is a corruption of the term 'footway.'

It is most likely that the term 'five-footways' was coined by local builders in response to observing the minimum width of a verandah for shophouses.

In colonial S.E. Asia, there existed two codes which shaped the built environment; namely the Royal Ordinances for Manila and the 'New World' as proclaimed by Philip II of Spain (1573), and the Raffles' Ordinances (1822) for Singapore and the 'Malay world'.

The Town Building Committee which he formed stipulated: 'All houses constructed of brick or tiles have a uniform type of front, each having a verandah of a certain depth, open to all sides as a continuous and open passage on each side of the street.

I definitely prefer bumping shoulders on five-foot walkways to being lost in the labyrinths of a mall. Because the old buildings of Iloilo are not just relics -- they are still living, thriving, and growing parts of our lives.

The last building has nothing to do with this post. I just think it's super cool.

How to Give Verbal Encouragement as a Belayer

In the face of ambiguity, refuse the temptation to guess

-The Zen of Python

This is something that took me a while to learn, partly because no one taught it to me. Partly because I'm a slow learner:

How to give the right amount of verbal encouragement to a climber. To find out, just ask.

Some prefer being constantly reminded that someone is holding the rope for them. You can barrage them with "allez" and "gamba" and "venga vicho" like you're giving them an unrestrained IV drip rate.

Others may get distracted by the slew of words, like they're trying to read Dostoevsky and you're the neighbor hammering the drywall to put up a frame of gambling dogs.

Most people will say they don't care either way. Just ask anyway.

People appreciate when you ask.

One of my most memorable belay moments was when a climber sent her project in the dihedral wall in Danao. All the climbers were in another area. Between the partner check and the send, we didn't exchange a single word.

It reminded me of being in high school. During morning breaks, I'd go to the library when no one else would go. The only sound was of hardbounds being lifted on and off the shelves. The sound of quickdraws and leaves swaying—and the silence.

Belayers have no place in history.

But we still do our best so our climbers don't end up in the obituary.

Let's Lie About Our Sends

Honesty is always assumed. Whenever someone says they have sent their project, the first reaction is always a hearty congratulation. Nobody would even bother to ask for proof.

Recent instances in our gym made me wonder if this tradition will continue. A relatively new climber has more than once claimed a send, although in one instance he stepped on an off-route foothold; and in another he pushed off of the mat in the third move of a boulder problem.

I wonder if this is an isolated instance or if this is someting we'll see more of as climbing grows in the Philippines.

I like the concept of trust. In the homestay where we go to climb, the beers are left in the open for grabs. On checking out, we just tell the owner how many beers we drank and she never bothers to verify.

Maybe we can keep something like that going.