Cubby finds inspiration for writing through Chinese herbs, a collection of cameras and most importantly a fellow climber who reminds him he's still got a bit to go!
I was led downstairs to a tiny surgery. It was minimalist. Posters of the human anatomy decorated the walls, depicting lines of the Meridian. The little Chinese doctor sat in his office chair and greeted me, his feet barely touching the ground. He took my pulse on both wrists. Apparently Chinese doctors can tell a lot about the human body by taking your pulse. He took his time, alternating the pressure and taking notes. Once he had finished he inspected my tongue and told me that I had "damp!"
"You have heat in your body. You must look after yourself. No caffeine, no tea, no coffee, no spicy food, only gleen tea."
When I told him what I did for a living he responded by saying once again, "you must look after yourself, you must support your body." The Chinese don't believe in taking the human anatomy beyond that which it is designed. I detected in his voice a degree of disapproval.
Three years ago I attended the Chinese Medical Centre in Glasgow, hoping to find a cure for dermatitis, which I contracted after working with cement. My hands were a real mess, I couldn't climb properly and I more or less gave up bouldering and working hard routes because of it. When I climbed with Lynne Hill on Pabbay for the BBC, all my fingers were split and bleeding and I had to climb with wads of tape to protect my skin from the sharp gneiss. For two years my doctor prescribed stronger and stronger steroidal creams but to no great effect. In the end a specialist said rather bluntly, "you've got it for life."
So when Jo (my wife) suggested that I should visit the Chinese doctor, as she had been doing for over a year or so, I thought I had nothing to lose. GP's and medics might scoff but I can tell you that within a month my dermatitis had totally gone. The skin on my fingers is thinner now, such is the power of steroidal cream. Otherwise it was nothing short of a miracle to me that the wise little Chinese man had managed to cure my infection. I would have paid thousands for a cure but all it cost was £120!
Malc Smith was telling me that acupuncture helped Jerry Moffat who has problems with his fingers so I thought that Chinese medicine might provide the answer for a bicep tendon injury - my most recent acquisition. Acupuncture I hoped would be his curative measure but instead Doctor Lui prescribed ten days of herbal medicine. A concoction that looked a lot like fire kindling or an extremely coarse muesli (pictured). He then handed me a small bottle of ointment and said, "this is velly good, after ten day, if does not wok, I give you acupuncture." He escorted me to the door of his little surgery and with a nod and a smile, he waved goodbye.
Full of optimism and clutching onto my bundle of herbs, I trawled my way through the maddening lunchtime crowds towards Sauchiehall Street. It's funny what you think when you're wandering the street. Actually it's not always funny because I was just thinking what the hell am I going to write about for my next Scotland On Line column! Scheming to myself a theme, "where are they now" came to mind. But after a few seconds I soon got bored with the idea and as always my thoughts drifted towards climbing in one sense or another - sad I know.
Actually I was thinking about photography so I made my way to Jessops to pore over the latest range of Nikon lenses. I can always find an excuse to mooch around camera shops, even if it's only to buy a battery or a roll of film. The cost of Nikon equipment is extortionate and I really was beginning to wonder if I had made a mistake in not kitting myself out with Canon equipment instead. Drooling over a new 17-35mm fast, zoom lens (recommended retail price, £1,500), I thought about images in books and of climbing friends I had not seen for a long time. And then a man, well dressed stopped behind me. I sensed that he was not looking at the window display, "Cubby, you probably don't remember me."
Is it not uncanny that the way in which a small, scruffy climbing sack slung over the shoulder can catch another climber's eye. "Jonny Ingram, of course I do."
Remember Hard Rock, those great black and white pictures of a climber bridged out on the crux of The Needle and another of a climber laybacking the Crack for Thin Fingers. That's the man.
I vividly recalled a day at Bowden Doors in Northumberland, trying the hard half way move on Rajah. Dynos, or "leapin" moves as we called them, were very much in vogue and we were all focused on trying the move dynamically and then Jonny, who was one of the Aberdonian team and a bit older than us, came along. He spotted a solution straight away and without saying as much. We had been throwing ourselves at the move for the last half-hour or so. Jonny got his hands on the crucial holds and went straight into a good old-fashioned, mantle shelf move and did it on his second or third attempt. We were gutted!
We blethered for a while and before going on his way he said, "by the way Cubby, I'm a rep for Canon. If you want any cheap gear just let me know." Arghh!
As soon as I got home I jumped into my Fiat Panda and nipped down to the cafe where I was pretty sure I would find Hamish (McInnes), for some inspiration for my next column. "What have you been up to Cubby, I haven't seen you for a while?"
"I've got some guiding coming up," I said. "So I went up Broad Gully, the only snow I could find. I need the fitness and it helps to stretch some injuries into place."
Hamish always finishes the conversation with an upper hand saying that he's always been lucky with injuries, "Joe (Brown) was always complaining about aches and pains," though a fractured skull while on the Bonatti Pillar left Hamish with black outs for five or six years.
"Mind you I've picked up a few tropical infections in the Amazon, a terrible place for creepie crawlies. In fact I wrote an article on tropical diseases for The Scotsman. For over a year or so I knew there was something odd going on beneath the nails on my fingers and toes, I could smell it. But nobody could find anything, until one day a medical acquaintance discovered these little termite-like parasites - they thrived on the Scottish climate," Hamish chuckled. "As soon as I went to the desert they disappeared. Oh, and I got warts once. I'm sure I got them from Chris (Bonnington) following him up a jam-crack. Chris has always had warts."
"I didn't know you wrote for the papers Hamish?"
"I did about 100 columns for them over the years."
And I'm only on number thirty for Scotland On Line so far, mmm...see you in a fortnight hopefully!
Cubby
30/1/2002
