Climbing 1

Pitch 3 for example, say you only had two fingers on each hand, like an accident, or if you were born that way, like a cow, no, say cows were into climbing, then they would love this pitch, it’s just two finger pocket after two finger pocket. It also tops out onto a lovely grass plateau at the top, if they were hungry. The polished footholds on pitch 1 also show the years of popularity and the time worn passing of many a climber, (they also make you want to shit yourself).

Flushed with success at our first proper route on the trip we really outdid ourselves by getting off-route on the second, Je. Still, finished straight up the crag, through a tunnel, and up a nice unprotected rib. All that remained for the day was for me to jelly my arms by dogging up a 6c (not the same kind of dogging that goes on in Fontainebleau forest).

Although the crag has suffered from such popularity that many of the routes are badly polished, it is fantastic to be able to walk off the bottom of climb in your rock boots to the truck for a quick brew.

Topping out of Le Rech


				We found Fontainebleau where everyone else had left it, just below Paris. I wasn't expecting to be blown away by a bouldering venue but it has left a lasting impression on me and I will definitely make the effort for further trips in the future. We parked up in Cuvier in the evening and I got so excited I ran up to the first boulder and squirmed all over it. I felt I had eased myself into the scene gently enough, not too many hard problems, lots of medium grades, but by day two, I was hampered by very sore arms. I convinced myself that the cause of this was the vaccines I had been given one week earlier and when I declined a problem in front of a group of Font monkeys sighting this as the reason, five of them related the same symptoms typical of Font bouldering, I felt like a pussy. So needless to say I gave up moaning and swam up a Font 6b (no honestly).

Jools and I did the yellow circuit at Gorge d'Apremont, up to 3c, 42 problems in all. It was just as satisfying as a multi-pitch classic VDiff. We had the place pretty much to ourselves as the route wound its way through beautiful mixed forest to a small summit in the evening sun. I think this is what makes Fontainebleau unique. It doesn't have to be about the grade; sometimes it's all about the journey.

At La Roche aux Sabouts I had the classic experience of being shown how to do a 4b problem by a grey-haired local. I hope it happens to you all one day, at boulder 34, on blue 36! Was really hurting today so asked Jools to fetch me a couple of Brufen from the van, these made no difference. Next day we realised that Jools had mixed up Brufen and Buscopan, at least I didn't get the shits.

After the doping debacle of yesterday I decided that a placebo was not the way to go, and so I took some real performance enhancing drugs (Ibuprophen). Onto Le Cul de Chien, let me make two fantastic recommendations to you all:

1. Get up early before sunrise, head over to the Le Tete de Chien, get set up with your camera at a low angle before the sun rises over the boulders behind you. Make several practice ascents to get the best pose possible (e.g. hanging from the nose), and when the golden rays of sun finally hit the rock, get the perfect bouldering shot for above your fireplace.

2. Take a spare set of batteries for the camera!

Spent the morning on the blue circuit of the Cul de Chein. Jools took the problems from 2a-3c and I, the 4a-5a. This worked really well for us, moving the boulder mat and getting through the circuit, a real recommendation if you are pressed for time. We only had half a day so only completed half the circuit, some of the 3c were too hard for Jools, and I struggled to do one of the 3a problems.

Headed over to Le elephant for our last day of climbing at Fontainebleau. Photos cannot do justice to this enigmatic rock feature; you need to see it, walk around and under it, and if possible to climb it to really appreciate nature's finest sculpture. I so wanted to get a good photo on it that I repeated the Noir 6a up the ear several times. Then the pain came again. Oh, that numbing bicep grabbing pain! I decided the only sensible course of action was to take the pills again...

And stop climbing.

	Le elephant

Some wee observations I have made whilst in Fontainebleau:

1. People who climb regular at Font have better bodies than those that don't.

2. More shagging goes on in the forest than in most brothels.

3. A lot has been said about Font grades and it's all true.

4. There are many similarities to the UK's southern sandstone, but enough differences also.

5. Font bouldering hurts your arms, a lot.

6. Pills take away the pain.

7. Only for a while!


			And so to Limestone, polished and pocketed limestone. We parked up at the base of Le Saussois at night and slept in eager anticipation of what was lurking above us in the dark. We awoke in the morning to discover that what was lurking above us in the dark, was rain. I rolled over and relished the respite, arms still smarting a little from Fontainebleau. About mid-day I ventured out to get familiar with the crag. Nice scale, very continental looking. There were even some tough little French lads on the overhanging 7a routes, well, if they must. I didn’t come to France to climb in typical British weather, or 7a for that matter, so I took a day off. There was one available 5c line called Martine, but as she was described as greasy and slimy and never washed, we stayed clear. The following day we headed to Bill Birketts recommended climb, La Rech 5c (don’t know if this means reach or wretch). Why is it that so often the hardest part of sport climbing is getting off the ground? If you are fancying this one, then once you’re past six foot the rest is in the bag. Not to take anything away from the climb though, an absolute beauty.


	We arrived in the car park in the Chaudefour Valley and pulled up next to a small UK-licenced astra van. The two occupants were ex Bangor University Students, which means mental in my book. Rory and Matt recognised the truck from Font and after brief intro’s we invited them for a brew. The weather was Scottish to say the least, cold, wet, clammy, misty etc. It was late morning and we were all prepared to play a bit of a waiting game for better weather. As we sat and did the usual climber banter, routes, grades, countries etc, we watched a few locals gearing up and setting off. Look, lets just go on a recce, bring the gear just in case, but mainly just see what this place is about. Little expectation of climbing we packed the sacs, hung the washing and headed out.



The walk-in is really to be savoured at this crag. As each bend revealed an ever larger vista of the massive megalith, the cameras came out and the expectation mounted. It is only on the final approach do you start to feel the enormity as such. It juts out of the ground at such an angle you feel it is listing more each moment. It looks like a giant headstone in an old unkempt graveyard.

		Matt doing 'the Sharma'

	As we reached the base, two French climbers were backing off ‘trop froid, beaucoup de vent”. Well since we were only there for a recce, no harm looking at the first pitch. Rory and Matt headed to Voie Bobo, Jools and I slipped round to the Voie Normal. After a nice 5c slab, I belayed Jools to the base of the route proper. Where we stood in the lew of the rock, the mist was streaming either side, and I thought about the other two in the full face of the wind. I somehow convinced Jools to belay me up the first pitch to ‘just see’. The rock was in fantastic condition. Solid, good friction, and plenty of holds, but cold, oooh so cold. As I stood below the crux I couldn’t feel if my hands were holding or not. I spent five minutes warming them to pull through the crux before reaching the belay ledge. I started to feel that if I could convince Jools to follow this far, then a stab at the summit may be possible. With only a little persuasion and less help Jools followed the first pitch to join me on the ledge. By the second pitch the weather was lifting a little and the body warmed, so I set off from the belay in my fleece gloves up to the crux. The crux was described in the guide as French 6a with a point of aid or English 6a without, I climbed it without resorting to aid and I can’t climb English 6a. At the top the sky cleared and the view was amazing, a geologist’s wet dream.

No sign of the lads from Bangor at the top and I suspected that the icy wind would have forced them to retreat. We rappelled from the summit in a single 50m abseil and it was only at this point did the reality of the amount of lean on the block became apparent as Jools swung out round the side of the cliff and out into free space landing 10m from the base. We gathered ourselves and headed down. As we rounded the windward side of the block, Rory and Matt were just topping out, as I thought, Mental.

Bill Birkett states that Le Rancune is climbable from late May to October inclusive. We would like to add November the 1st to that. But not the 2nd. We awoke the next day with the thermometer reading -2oC as winter had set about the mountains with a big white shitty stick.


			Above the town of Millau there is a Via Ferrata, this translated literally means ‘Iron Way’. It is a series of metal steps and holds, anchored into the rock, protected by a long cable. With the right equipment and no real climbing experience anyone can get the exposure and some of the feel of what the rock monkey’s love so much. Although Jools has experience of big climbs, this was her first ever Via Ferrata and I had only done one before. Even for someone who has a lot of climbing experience there is still a lot of thrill to be had from the exposure. Although you are protected from possible fatal falls, there still is a risk of serious injury with a misplaced step, however unlikely. The weather was fine and warm and the route difficulty rated as TD with overhanging ladders, a suspension bridge, and 2 monkey bridges. We are looking forward to doing more in Andora.


				On the way to Gorge d’Héric we must have passed acres of rock, edges as long as Stanage and buttresses as high as Gimmer, it seems to me that the French have so much rock they don’t know what to do with it. In the gorge the climbing was fantastic, it was frustrating to be only scratching the crags closest to the track whilst looking skyward to the huge buttress further up the mountain but the rock was solid gneiss, and the warm sun kept the spirits high. We arrived in the afternoon so started with a few single pitch sport routes on Beylot Ferrand ranging from 5a-6a. The last was an absolute peach, 25m of continuous movement and thought at 6a, move upon move, flowing one after each other. Jools seconded it with only a brief rest on the rope to work out the crux, it was some of her best climbing yet.



	We made an early start the next day, but being unsure of the whereabouts of the start of the route we were looking for, ended up behind two slower groups on a multi-pitch 4b, Voie Normal, on Tête de Braque. This was Jools’s first lead climbing in France and it did allow a leisurely pace to adjust to the bolted belays and route finding. No problems on this route and thoroughly enjoyed the respite from rock shoes. Flushed with success and managing to skip ahead of the slower parties on the descent, we decided to try the recommended route in Bill Birkets, French rock guide. Le Roche Marre. 100m VD, 2c,2c,3a,3c,3a. was a little more jittery on this route and I think it was due to the more difficult route finding and absence of pegs on the lower section, but finally we landed below what is describe as a smaller version of the Cioch on Sron na Ciche. A few difficult moves lead to an exposed move round a corner (somewhat similar to

	climbing into the saddle on ‘Little Chamonix’). At this point Jools lost the bap. “I hate you, you bastard, making me do this” tears starting to well, “Can you see the next bolt”? I shout, “No” she cried, “Yes” she smiled, and off she bounded up the rest of the route. On the walk down I felt the urge to get back on the road again, and as it was only 3pm we hit the road.


			We had two objectives for Andora, both Via Ferratas. The first was at Crag Roig ski resort, a good walk in and a high finish. The route was not technically difficult or steep but the situation was good and the walk down was through some beautiful scenery. The second was more technical, steeper and more exposed, a directisima up the main rock face above Canillo town.

			It was an ambitious plan to say the least. 550m of 6a+/Ao, 16 pitches in all. It looked like a lot of IV-V to speed proceedings along, and maybe I could lead it all, maybe. The alarm sounded at 6.30am, but outside was dark and the stars still hung around urging us to stay in bed. Morning rose slowly in the valley but by 8 o’clock it was light enough to climb and we were standing at the base of the wall craning our necks skywards. This was the easiest line up the middle of the face and the early polish bore testimony to the traffic. What I wasn’t ready for however, was the basic lack of cohesion of the rock on such an obviously popular route. Madly enough, as the technical climbing seemed to ease off so did the protection and the solidity. Time was of the essence as day length was short this time of year, style was compromised for speed and upward progress the main priority. I ran the first two pitches together spacing the gear from the limited rack and splitting draws. A full 50m of rope between me, and a polished unprotected traverse off the blocks for Jools, was probably what lead to her first big swing. Not the best confidence builder, but Jools is made of stern stuff and a little 6a fighting with further traversing brought her to the second belay.

		Then started the Aid. Ao through an over hanging bulge. OK, so a ground level explanation of adjustable etriers would have been in order, but in the spirit of adventure I zipped up the bolts to the belay and shouted instructions over the edge! I have to admit I was very guilty of using the taboo word in climbing “JUST” as in “Just clip the bolt and stand up!” I was thankful that the bolted belay lent easily to direct belaying and with a little hauling from above and much struggling below Jools appeared over the brink, red of face and stern in gaze. A nice pitch of 6a to a tree felt steeper than it looked from below but went nice and quick and was seconded at a good pace by Jools. I thought ‘at last a quality pitch for Jools to really start enjoying’ but the muse was interrupted by the chilling screams as a cabbage size foothold blew from under her feet and she swung onto the rope. As Jools composed herself on the belay I started up the next pitch Ao/6a. I was starting to wonder where all the IV-V had gone as I mounted the small roof to the slab above and found it, unprotected and loose for 10m. Stepping onto a large sloping ledge that spans the width of the face, it was nice to be free from such verticality for a while and reach the belay bolts. I cannot imagine what struggling was occurring below, but I hauled and mauled the ropes and started to wonder as to how much of an undertaking this climb was for Jools and if my inner ambition was again going to stretch our relationship like the twin ropes linking us together. We gathered ourselves, had a little chat and looked at the Ao/6a pitch ahead. “One more before lunch” I offered, looking up to a better ledge in the shade of the trees, than the sloping ledge we were on which was threatening to whisk any loose items over the edge. I felt the sugar dropping in Jools’ blood stream but knew that it was worth pushing on one more leg. Style pushed to the sidelines I pulled on draws and slung the bolts to the trees above and a good stance. It may have been the lure of food or the busting bladder that fired Jools up, but she seemed to skip up the bolts.
	It was 1.30pm and we were 7 pitches up. Quick lunch and sort out, I knew that we must keep moving if we were to have any chance of completing the climb. I ran the next two pitches together again, but this lead to a large amount of traverse and as I took in the ropes the forearm muscles started a little cramping. “EPIC” the word flashed across my mind, closely followed by “WITH THE WIFE”. It was 2 o’clock, with good weather and the worst behind us, we were halfway up, and had four hours of daylight left. I could feel that past this point, retreat would start to be tougher than the push to finish, and to finish would definitely mean the last couple of pitches and the walk off would be in the dark, “EPIC”, “WITH THE WIFE”. As I watched Jools start the eighth pitch, climbing like how I felt, I thought, back off now and be happy with what you’ve done. This thought accompanied a wave of realisation ‘It doesn’t have to be an epic’; I smiled to myself and shouted the happy news to Jools.

	On the third abseil down I was very surprised to be swinging free of the face for 20m, I then realised how steep some of the pitches had actually been and was quite pleased with ourselves (these are not the same thoughts Jools expressed as she swung free of the face). At 4.00pm we were back at the truck, not really disappointed, as we had reached half-way up the climb and tackled the steepest sections. In fact, how I liked to see it was like this; we hadn’t failed on a 16 pitch 6a/A0, we had succeeded on an eight pitch 6a/A0. We both celebrated with a half-full glass of beer.

			Sella is in the heart of some fantastic rock. It was two minutes up the road from Hort de Gloria to get to Culo de Rhino, this is a quality crag and we spent many days exploring just this area. The rock was solid and the grades ranged well with a good selection. One favourite soft tick at 6c was the stupidly overhanging Aqui tampoco, but there were plenty of stiffer stuff in the 6a+/6b. Jonathan was off form the week we were there with a broken foot, but still came out and showed us the way by climbing 6b in bear feet (they really were that hairy). We headed further a field to climb at the coast at Sierra de Toix but I found it rather noisy from all the construction going on, I do like a little ambiance at a crag. My own climb of the week was definitely Tanit on Pared de Rosalia with Deebs (aka D.B.)(aka dodgy Ian). Four pitches, 6b+, 5+, 6a+ topped off with a nice punchy E1 5b for Deebs, just when he was relaxing into the bolt clipping. Whilst we were enjoying this route it was nice to be able to see Jools and Mum tackling the classic three pitch V of Marion, and hear Euan's booooming laugh across the valley, like I said, I like a little ambiance at a crag.

	Mixture of good roots at Gandia. Had a wrestle with a 7a but no real joy. Long 6a/6b pitches of great quality and shorter, pumpy, overhanging routes. Small world is climbing, bumped into Ron Kenyon, who had taken the cover photo on the new guide we had bought for the Moroccan Anti-Atlas. Highlight for me was definitely watching Julies bottom wiggle its way up the hole on the climbing/caving route Pequeno saltamontes.


			Anne had recommended that we stop in at Chulilla, and from just a couple of pictures in a leaflet she showed us, it was clear why. This is as stunning a setting for climbing as any I have ever been to. The town of Chulilla sits on the side of a huge island of rock in the centre of a steep walled gorge. We chose to climb on the west side below the castle, walking in through the village, winding down the narrow streets below the ruined walls of the Moorish Castle.

Fresh from flashing 6b at the coast, I selected a warm up route of a two pitch V,V+, Hechizo de Luz. Off the floor it was very polished but a relatively strait forward first pitch. I didn’t however expect the second V+ to be of any real bother. I think may have been all the finger crimping, pocketed face climbing that had softened me up. I suddenly moved from a lay back crack to an absolutely fabulous crack and corner of similar style to Cenotaph corner or Great North Road. Proper moves involving twisting, bridging and even a little jamming.

Jools was keen to get leading again so we then picked out another V/V+ Pequeno Gran Hombre. A couple of bolts lead Jools up to a ledge below an overhanging bulge. I offered plenty of advice from below and pretty much bullied her up it. After several small bouts of crying and lots of jibbering she reached the belay and hollered in triumph. Seconding the pitch, hopping up lightly to the ledge below the bulge, I then realised what all the fuss was about. Real overhanging 6a moves on poor holds, which I struggled through after a couple of false starts. Above this were thin moves between well-spaced bolts (It was only later that we found out that the grades here were much harder, V = 6a). The second pitch was V+, which we now know could be F6a+. This turned out to be the best pitch of climbing I have done since on the trip. Serious lay backing off a wafer-thin flake, one foot proud of the face. I had left two quick draws at the belay and on reaching the last bolt, I ran out. Pushing on boldly to the top, it felt nice somehow to be free from the regiment of the bolts, like running out an easy finish to a hard trad route. In all, we felt that these two routes were of the best we had done thus far. We are planning to return to Chulilla in the future, for a much longer stay.


			We made an early start to the day, which was cold, but with clear skies and little wind, we hoped for a warm, south-facing crag. We had been forewarned at the discrepancy in the grading, and the guide even offered a comparison (6a = 6a+/b). We were advised to start on a sector called Iniciacion, for obvious reasons, it was shaded and looked a little unimpressive. Jools was not really inspired and now was wondering what there was here worth doing. As we rounded the bend in the gorge there it was, Paredon Del Alguacil. A huge, 200m face lit up in the morning sun. “I want to climb that,” said Jools, eyes wide, like a kid in a sweet shop. We had only a single 60m rope with us so I ran back to the truck to swap it for two half-ropes and instructed Jools to pick out a route and get prepared.

As I returned to the face, I looked up to the base of the climb and shouted up to find where Jools had got to. The returning voice seemed to echo off the opposite side of the gorge. I turned to look and there was Jools at the top of a chosy steep scramble on the wrong side! “What the heck are you doing up there?” I shouted in complete disbelief. “I’m trying to get a photo of the whole face” came the reply. I could even sense in her voice at this point that she was beginning to realise that scrambling up, and scrambling down were two completely different propositions. I then had what I can only describe as a parental experience. My inner core was screeming “what the bloody hell do you think you’re doing, get down here at once, don’t you know how dangerous that is, wait till your father gets home, then there’ll be hell to pay.” Julie's voice was now wavering and I could tell she was really scared. I didn’t want to add any stress so just kept talking normally and encouraging her down. I climbed to meet her half way and there was a little outpouring of relief as we scrambled down to the base.

Back in composure, we reached the bottom of the crag. The idea was to pick the easiest line that linked to the top. It soon became apparent that this would however mean at least one pitch of 6a+. Common sense dictated that it should be the bottom pitch if at all possible, so we chose to do Esclavos de Propaganda (common sense actually meant buggering off and doing something else). Some sort of warm up would have been nice but this was instead traded for style and lots of hanging from the rope and quickdraws, at F6b+ I was just pleased to get up it to access the rest of the face. A short bold pitch of 4+ up to belay at the top of a large flake, brought back memories of the belay on top of Texas Flake, Yosemite. From here we followed Cornelius Moliarte V, V+, V+ (F6a/6a+) and the climbing just got better and better, technical, continuous and on the last pitch, two amazing overhangs topped off with a Font 6a slab. We managed to get down in three abseils on the half ropes but there was a lot of wrestling with vegetation.

	Click here for the smallest route in Montanejos with the longest walk in!

			I guess we should be raving about Siurana, a Mecca for climbing, home of the famous F9a La Rambla, sun blessed steep true rock. I could see all of that but, I just didn’t feel it. Something has to resonate with a climber for a venue to grip your heart and imagination. Not Siurana. We climbed only on the village crags so maybe not giving the place

the best chance to shine, but the urge to move on was stronger than the want to stay. I cannot fault the climbing, I started on what I thought was a V+ and found it a little stiff. I was disappointed in my performance and bullied Julie to second it. It was only when we rechecked the guide that I realised it was 6a+, the soft grades here add a little to the attraction I think. Jools was none too well and opted to just belay and I mooched up a few 6a+, and V+. All on excellent solid rock, good moves, sheltered and sun-baked, climbing shirtless on 10th December. What was missing? Topping out! It took me a while to realise but I have mostly been a UK trad climber. The elation of stepping back onto the horizontal world from vertical existence is for me a confirmation of an achievement. I want to conquer, to summit, to look back down on what went before. I also want to share that same sense with someone else, a cohort, an accomplice. To see in their eyes, as they pull up to the belay an appreciation of the experience. I just miss all of this when I reach another chain, clip the rope, and lower to the ground.

On the way out from Siurana I went to have a look at La Rambla on Sector Pati. Chris Sharma had recently repeated it, as had a local climber. I think I was looking for a little inspiration but I couldn’t help wondering, “would it be climbed if there was the possibility that some of the bolts wouldn’t hold?” I would like to find out if fear still plays a part at that level of climbing. Any fall involved looked like it would be into space, as long as you have a competent belayer and at that level of experience is it just about practicing the moves and training, is there any degree of adventure. I personally start to shit myself when the belay loop on my harness gets 6” above the bolt. So, in search of a different experience we moved on to Montserrat.

	Jools was now starting to turn a slighter shade of blue, I sent her on, chasing the sun up the next pitch but the uncertainty of bolt finding tends to slow one down and the sun moved further still. Strangely enough I managed to track it down again at the 5th belay and it seemed to be having the same route finding problems as I was, but off it skipped again before Jools could feel any lingering warmth it had left. I finally reached it whilst it was basking in its own success on the top, but by then Jools was below so I threw a sling round the base of the cross and belayed her to the summit. Now that’s what I call putting your faith in the Church. From the summit it was possible to see the snow capped Pyrenees and the tall spires of Barcelona, hundreds of kilometres, for 360 degrees. Try to stand there and not

marvel at the creation/evolution/alien experiment*. After the rappel Jools headed back to the truck to defrost and I hooked up with an American climber called Nathan for a mini-epic on another climb.

*Delete as appropriate.

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