The Virgil Scott Interview

Virgil and Hal, post climb.

In the summer of 2003, while backpacking through Europe, I came across a 22 story residential building in London called Parson’s House. It's 60 meters of 5.4 climbing, easily protectable, with minimal bust factor. I had just gotten back from climbing some Via Ferratas in Andorra, so I grabbed my makeshift harness and pigtail-thingys and ran up it. It was quite a rush, quite safe, and I'd highly recommend it to anyone living in the area. A couple years later I received the following email:

What men dare do in the dead of night.

After reading your email I’m inclined to think that you have a few screws loose.

You mean not using any protection? Well looking back I suppose it probably wasn’t the greatest idea, but I didn’t really think about it at the time.

What is your climbing background?

It was my first time climbing anything that big, previously I'd climbed only a few small problems with a cushion to fall onto.

I used to rock-climb when I was 12 or 13, for about 6 months. It wasn’t until last October that I started climbing again, through the outdoor club here at the university.

So you know how to lead climb, set anchors, and the like?

Yes. Actually, Hal and I recently returned to Parson’s house for a roped climb of the building.

We set out at around 3:00am, but didn’t get to the building until around 4:30am. By this time it was already starting to get light out. About one third of the way up we suddenly became aware that it's pretty much impossible to climb quietly with ropes and protection.

The crabs attached to the slings that we'd threaded though the girders started banging against the surface of the building. Several people poked their heads out from their windows. First, a middle-aged lady yelled at us; we reassured her that we didn't intend to burgle anyone, but she didn't seem convinced.

Soon later a couple more heads came out from a window above us, they offered us a cup of tea, but we declined, hoping to top out as quickly as possible.

Finally, at about three quarters of the way up, we heard some shouting from below. We looked down to see a couple police officers, insisting that we come down immediately. Even after we told them it would be faster and safer to climb to the top, they still insisted that we start coming down immediately. So we set up an anchor and abseiled.

Made to be climbed.

What did the cops have to say?

Initially they wanted to know our political motivations. I told them we simply did it for fun. I think they were a little disappointed that we weren't political activists, about to BASE jump with parachutes that say 'Vote Labour' on them.

Were you charged with anything?

They didn't place us under arrest, but the head honcho decided that we needed to have a 'talk' in the back of their van. As we spoke, he decided that we must be high, claiming that our pupils were unusually dilated. We replied that we'd never do any serious climbing under the influence, as it affects your judgment. He accepted this, but still wanted to search us for drugs. So back to the station we drove.

One of the young policewomen offered a full strip-search, unfortunately Mr. Head honcho deemed this unnecessary. She was curious as to why we were climbing a block of flats and suggested that we should climb the white cliffs of Dover instead.

Once they convinced we weren't drug addicts they let us go.

You climbed Parson’s House right before the London bus bombings, so things have probably changed somewhat since then.

I certainly won't be doing any high profile buildering in London anytime soon. I think if we hear about any attempts at climbing London buildings in the news they will be coupled with obituaries and apologies from Tony Blair. I think I'll stick to more low profile stuff.

Who would win in a game of “shoot the mistaken terrorist in the back of the head”, Bert or Ernie?

Bert is evil. He would surely be more willing to execute innocent civilians.