









Debauchery isn’t obscure or arcane, too hard or too bold, just the quintessential limestone E1. I remember a friend’s reaction when we said we were heading for High Tor, “Really?” eyebrows steepling. The implication was obvious. High Tor was a step up, a Rubicon, a rite of passage. We cut our teeth on Skylight and Lamplight, Original Route and Highlight, then launched out on that peerless ocean of limestone in the good ship Debauchery. A sextant and compass would have been handy because this is degree level route finding. The exposure snaps at your heels like a terrier from the moment you set out and every tiny weakness in the rock leads you astray, onto the rocks, up shit creek. You lean back off the holds straining over the vertical horizon for a landmark, some indication of a path through the rock, a safe channel. On a good day, you’ll find yourself possessed by the phantom navigator, at home on this petrified sea, forging ahead under full sail, giggling every time your hand disappears into a deep pocket, smiling at your outrageous good fortune. Sail on shipmate.