Boredom then Spain

Four weeks of sitting around being bored, can’t climb as wrist is injured, no money to go anywhere, just me, the laptop and the t.v. Relief was in the wings in the form of Yvette’s birthday present, a trip to Kalymnos. Only thanks to XL airways going bust this was canceled with a week to go. Luckily we were covered and we spun the dice and picked a new destination; Spain!

Rodellar Village, perched on top of the gorge

This was going to be Yvette’s climbing trip of the year and we flew into Barcelona, jumped into the smallest hire car available and started out tour. First stop Catalonia and the caves of Santa Ana and Santa Linya then Rodellar with its steep gorges and wildlife. Then finishing off doing the touristy thing in Taragon: so here we go, a few sound bites of Spain.

Architecture: Rolling hills, medieval fortified villages, all with their church spires watching for marauding Moors. Some with castles perched right at the top. But this is where it goes wrong. The Spanish aren’t very good with their planning regulations, often after hiking up to look at the imposing castle you find a nasty little red brick house stuck on the end and any deteriorating brick work daubed with cement. Rodellar was better, being in a national park they at least ensured all new buildings where built out of the local stone and came with traditional features.

Some of the Wildlife of Rodellar

Food: Spanish food is generally simple and easy to prepare, eating at the social clubs we gorged on deep fried squid and octopus, chorizo and other sausages, cheese and ham. Unfortunately if you’re on a budge this is often where it ends, after a few days of deep fried Squid, only to find on the fourth you have ordered it again because the new item on the menu was just Squid, but written in Catalonian, not Spanish.

Olive Groves of Catalonia

Tourists: Am pretty sure for the first stage of our holiday we were the only tourists the village of Castillonroy had ever seen. We had the Alberg all to ourselves and we met with blank stares from the locals. Although to be fair as soon as we appeared lost the redirected us to the interesting sights of the village.

Village of Catalonia

Student: How much is it to look around that bit of old ruin? The bad part of cities, you have to pay to see anything that is worth seeing. At least in the countryside it’s all free. I managed to get around this with my local mountaineering club card, which usefully doubles as a student card. At least it does if you are Spanish and can’t read much English.

Climbing: There is so much rock in Spain that needs climbing. All around Santa Linya are amazing cliffs, often we would have the whole crag to ourselves on some of the most perfect routes I have ever done. Rodellar is more, but much more popular, unfortunately this means a lot of the easier routes are polished. The hardest bit was often just getting off the ground. But new routes meant there was always something great to climb.

View from our Hotel in Taragon

Wildlife: No were else in Europe have I seen so much wildlife, Rodellar was packed with birds, butterflies and even a snake with coursed through the river after small fish. At times when you looked up you could see up to twelve vultures circling around the thermals, mostly Griffin Vultures, but, I am pretty sure I also saw a Golden eagle as it swooped over us.

Onto Germany

I wasn’t sad to leave Zillatal, the place had much to offer, if only I wasn’t traveling alone. The best of the bouldering lay on a toll road and €8 was a bit excessive for a day of climbing. Although everyone found the mountains scenery to be amazing it didn’t feel a touch on Val di Mello, after 3 months of the Alps suddenly the steep valleys become claustrophobic and you yearn for a plain where the highest thing is a tree or house. The area also had the feel of a winter resort in summer, populated by ageing and overweight Austrians and Germans and stuffed with snowboarding shops now selling skateboarding gear and walking boots.

On from Zillatal I crossed out of the Alps and into Germany, speeding along the Autobahn to the Frankenjura just above Nuremberg. This area of Germany is famous for two things, its beer and cakes, gently rolling forested hills are zig zagged by small country roads and here and there are short and small limestone cliffs. It reminds me a lot Fontainebleau in appearance. The villages in between the forests are all traditional German with large brightly coloured houses supported by ancient oak beams. Maybe it’s what it doesn’t have that makes it so attractive, no snow capped mountains for the bus loads of Austrian hikers to attempt, no never ending roads winding up hills that the masochistic cyclists love, no steam train to take you from shop to shop if your too lazy for either of the above. It’s the simplicity that makes this place beautiful and in that it somehow manages to keep away the busloads of tourists wanting to see something special.

Beer, Cake and Climbing

Luckily for the climbing a German is also at the campsite on his own and needed someone to climb with. I had heard a lot about the badly bolted and pocketed routes of Frankenjura, but nothing prepared me for the reality. After months of bouldering my stamina in poor and in all the routes you have a vast number of pockets to choose from. Normally most are dreadful. Trying to climb everything clean first attempt here is very tiring and I’ve dropped my grade a lot to allow for this. The bolting is all over the place, I’ve managed to choose routes which are reasonably well bolted, but some might have the first bolt at 8m, and then only one more before the finish at 20m. Luckily the guide books show you where the bolts are, so you can select carefully which routes you wish to do.

Frankenjura Village

My time in the Frankenjura wasn’t long and for most of it I rested as my body ached after the last 3 months of bouldering. To finish off my trip I joined Yvette who flew into Frankfurt for my last few days in Europe. First stop was the imperial German city of Wiensbern, with its wide roads, opera houses, lakes and cathedrals its closest to the Georgian architecture of London and Paris, but with a lot more German pomp. To finish off our day’s stay we went to the yearly music festival, apparently the best bands had played the night before so we were greeted by heavy German rock, a bald wrestler in dungarees and a collection of unfunny comedians, poets and writers, which was all in German, a language I speak pathetically little of.

Germany Party Time

Our next stop was Aachen via the Rhein, this major trade route through the Germany is teaming with castles, both strategic and fancy, many looking like a Disney creation, built with the riches the river brought them. Aachen, Charlemagne’s capital and centre of the Holy Roman Empire boasts the oldest cathedral in the world, but outside of the pretty ancient centre is a grim industrial town with little to offer compared to our last venue, Brugge.

Castles of the Rhein

Brugge, famous for its Lace (now made in China) and chocolates, sitting in the North of Belgium this small town just oozed charm at us. As soon as you cross the canal/moat surrounding the town you are met with pretty multicoloured houses leading you into the city centre. Once inside its magnificent squares and waterways quickly mesmerise you. It’s a place to relax and gently walk around in with magnificent rows of windmills to say farewell to you as your tour ends.

Windmills of Brugge

Then that was it, the next day we were on a very rough English Channel crossing to home. It’s weird looking back on the last 3 months. They definitely have gone quickly, but it’s what you remember that surprises you. Gone are the memories of mountains, food, streams and forests, those are saved neatly on my camera. Perfectly archived forever in me are all the hundreds of faces and people I met. That is probably the one thing that made the trip; humanity! From the locals of Val di Mello to the climbers of Magic Wood, hundreds of people I have met on my way. In a very un-English way I know I will meet them again. The goodbyes where never sad, as only half the story had been written and I always knew there would be another chapter.

Austria

I meant to stay a week in Magic Wood and ended up saying a month. I think that above everything else explains the power of the place. No place has so many amazing problems to climb as there. Magic aptly describes the climbing, although the wood is far for Magic with its plentiful opportunities to break your ankle, why this name is now being marketed for the red socks walking brigade I don’t know as for a walking place Magic Wood is probably the worst name. The company I kept was also Magical and I had many big goodbyes to make on Monday before hitting the road, and I’ve promised myself I will meet them again! I never thought I would be sad to see the back of Switzerland.

Before I crossed the border into Austria I took one last touristic opportunity in Switzerland and visited St Gaellen, a town with one of the best preserved medieval towns in Switzerland, lined with fresco’s and ornately carved balconies it was a good way to break up the journey, but already it felt very Germanic, I was vigorously tutted whilst crossing the empty roads whilst the residents waited patiently for the little green man to appear. Beside this I seemed to spent more time looking for a public toilet, something I don’t believe actually exists here, as bins seem to be seriously lacking as well (how the streets are kept tidy is a miracle).

Then onto Austria and with a few time consuming diversions as the motorway was closed I head onto Zillatal and the village of Ginzling where a free campsite beside the river will be my base for the next week. To describe the place is hard, it’s a combination of Magic Wood and Val di Mello (Italy), I am surrounding my snow capped peaks, but often the valley is to narrow to see them above the cliffs, the villages look Swiss like with their organised Chalets, but there is more happening here, more bars, information centres, the rules which seem to stifle small businesses in Switzerland are more lax here and so everywhere people opening up and selling beer and food. Almost my first port of call was the Gasthouse for the local brew, possibly slightly stronger than the Swiss beer I guess by the cross eyed effect it had on me, but the most refreshing end to a long days driving.

With my beer inside me I was able to get dinner going at the campsite, Jonny the Spanish dog from Magic Wood has been replaced by Mr Fox, a young fox with shiny coat, bushy tail and pointy nose that happily sniffs through my rubbish bag whilst I read my book. The plan then was to put down my mat and just sleep out under the stars, this was aborted after Mr Fox decided to chew on my shoe with my foot still in it whilst I read some more. I decided to put up the tent encase my nose or other appendages look suitably edible during the night.

That is pretty much it, my night sleep was on the chilly side, but I should have expected that with the snow layer only being a few hundred metres above me. The next day I went exploring and managed to get quite a bit of climbing in and finished the day perfectly with another beer.

Supernova

Everyone seems to be grumpy at the campsite, I’ve so far born the brunt of an American doctor with the personality of the Amoeba, look down his nose at me as I talked about my nutritional work in Kenya; A sort of ‘I’m a doctor, what possible good is nutrition’ look. An angry Argentinean asked me when we are going to give independence to the Falklands, and to top it off a Spanish girl (sorry Basque) tried to give me a lecture on the wrongs of the British Empire. Something which is fun to talk about when everyone has an opinion they would like to express and listen to others opinions, but a horrible conversation normally as it seems to galvanise people to extremes. Her other favourite conversation is the moans of the wronged Basque country and their demand for independence. I think England has probably got more rights to parts of France than Basque have for independence. God I wish for long nights of just playing Uno.

'Right Hand of Darkness' my new project

Back to the mish mash of other things I’ve been doing, I’ve pushed the climbing a bit further with Supernova a Font 7C. Considering that when I first got here I couldn’t pull the first move on this problem on sick slopers I am very impressed with myself. I also seem close to other 7C problems and have started work on an amazing 8A. Whether this is possible for me, who knows, guess only time will tell, with only a week left here, probably not possible this trip. Between writing this and publishing it I also managed another 7C, although the guide gives it 7C+.

Bellinzona

Tim left and needed a lift to Bellinzona, as good an excuse as any to enter back into civilization. We entered civilization, whether we looked civilized is another matter. I’m not sure I’d washed very recently and we both sported a thick beard. Compared to the glitzy Italian/Swiss residents we looked a mess. Even with my uncivilized looks I could appreciate Bellinzona, no longer the mundane imperial Swiss towns, this was a taste of Italian renaissance. Frescoed houses, large squares with fountains, gargoyles, gelateries and cafes: If all with Swiss prices. I sat myself down for my first meal out in 3 weeks, unfortunately my taste buds could still remember the food of Italy and it was close, but not close enough. Although the service was more Italian, my cheese starter arriving half way through my main course.

Back to the beard, everyone tells you how itchy a beard is to grow and I can agree. I kept it up to the point when the moustache kept attracting everything I was eating and drinking and then decided it had to go. What no one tells you is how hard it is to get rid of a beard, no simple shave! My Gillet razor worked so hard, every square centimetre clogged the blades, I had to re-soap three times and the ordeal took a good half an hour. But it was worth it.

In this last week here I’m looking back on what i’ve done. Climbing wise a lot, culturally very little and linguistically nearly nothing. Being very international everyone at the campsite speaks English, occasionally a German speaks to me and I just look back blankly, considering how well I was getting on with my Italian, it’s a shame to have been able to keep the languages going. Occasionally Raul and Sabina teach me new Spanish words and I can speak to Jonny the dog fluently in Spanish. Well, as fluently as you need to get a dog to drop the stick and come here and not get run over on the road. Although I did manage to practice my Italian a bit in Bellinzona. I also looked back on a few of the savings graces of staying here in Switzerland, yes almost everything is expensive, except Petrol which is under a £1 a litre, good chocolate is also very cheap and my daily treat, a 100g bar which would cost over £1 in England is 50p for the Coop own brand and 25p if you go for the supersaver, both very good and surprisingly unsickly, where in England a large bar would leave me nauseous here I find myself almost immediately reaching for the second bar. Enough talk of chocolate, hopefully next time I write I will have some more interesting explorations, unfortunately I think the most interesting part of the trip will come in the last 5 days as I cruise through Germany and Belgium then France back to the UK. Probably too much to remember all the details to write it up, but should get some good photos!

Magic Wood

I settled in pretty quickly to the daily routines of Magic Wood (Averstal), the cheap campground by the side of the road, with its 4 portaloos (for around 100 happy campers which are changed once a week....) and a stream which is now reduced to a trickle that provides us with the water for drinking, washing up and washing ourselves. The inhabitants are a mix of various nationalities, my first friends two Canadians travelling alone, Tim, whose stopped over for a couple of weeks whilst travelling Europe this Summer and Etienne, a ridiculously strong climber who is touring the main bouldering destinations this year. The Spaniards are the next bunch I spend most of my days with, with their tanned skin and long black hair they look gypsy like and would be given a wide berth by your xenophobic Brit, but in truth they are the most friendly of all nationalities. Number 10 Magic Wood Crescent the home of Raul and Sabina is the usual evening destination, in their camper van we relax and watch slide shows of the latest climbing photos or play Uno, a game Rauol is particularly fond off. Next come the Austrians with their thick banana pancakes that they cook up and share around every morning. Mixed in with this we have small groups of Dutch who come over for tea in the morning or borrow a stove when their gas has run out. The favour is quickly returned with bread and cream cheese, chocolate and even once a beer. Although the beer was more of a celebration as Suzie had climbed her first 7B. The Eastern Europeans stand out from the crowd with the neo-nazi style shaved heads, while the Germans stick rigorously to the rules, ensuring their tents fill up the smallest gaps in the campsite, rather than the nice open spaces on the sides. More than once I have had to suggest that half a metre between their tent and my front door is just a little bit to close. But, apparently this is the norm across Europe and every other nationality has their German jokes. The only nationality really lacking here is the Swis.The Campsite

Campsite routine seems to be to get up as the sun turns your tent into an oven, hope Bella and the other Austrians are up and already making pancakes. Make myself a coffee and pull up a chair outside Raul and Sabina’s van. Breakfast is usually a long affair and usually blends into lunch, if Pancakes aren’t on offer than its scrambled eggs. In most other climbing destinations everyone would be rushing into climb by now, but here we would rather wait till the cool of the afternoon and evening. Lunch isn’t often till 2.00 and any time in between is given up to sunbathing and reading. Only at 3.00 do we venture into the forest, returning at 8.00 to cook then retire back to the social centre of Rauol’s van or the Campfire if one has been lit.

The Social Centre of Raul and Sabina's Van

Unlike any other campsite I have been in this one exudes respect, although packed with an age group of 18 to 30 there is never trouble or cause for complaint. No screaming children at 7.00 in the morning, music is kept to a bit of quite guitar playing and singing some evenings, a stereo is unheard of and at 11.00pm everything drifts nicely into silence.

Damon on a more vertical problem

But Magic Woods gives me a conundrum, I am travelling for a few reasons, the first to improve my climbing, for this Magic Wood is unequalled in its numerous steep and hard lines which leave you exhausted after every session. The second was to travel and explore. Switzerland and this area offers little for this unless your bank balance has more zero’s after it that mine. The final reason was photography, although much of Switzerland is full of amazing scenery, this area, stuck deep in a valley offers few opportunities and my collection of Landscape photos is already numerous and I need to move into other areas. So I guess the conundrum is, what to do, do I stay and get better at climbing, but sacrifice the travel and photography or travel more and sacrifice the climbing. At present I am unwilling to depart the social scene of this campsite.

Lake Como and Onwards

Me in Val di Mello
I think I have been spoilt in the last few months when visiting cities, so many had kept their original medieval and Georgian sectors that Como after which Lake Como is named just felt more of the same. Narrow pedestrianised streets with tall thick walled buildings, many with murals and sculptured facades, small cafe lined squares surrounding elegant drinking fountains. The centre piece of the town was the Duomo, this cathedral built over many centuries, its interior features dark gothic designs with a renaissance exterior. The Roman writers and residents of Como Pliny the Younger and Pliny the Older guard the west facade.
Lake Como and the Duomo

But this is all that really captivated me about the city. The cafe’s charges extortionate prices for their coffee and waiters looked bemused at my lack of tipping. Accustomed as I am to the refusal of any tips up in Val di Melo; Yvette tried to tip a Euro for a lunch we had and ended up with a one Euro postcard. The waterfront of Como was rammed with tourist boats and whilst still pretty and elegant didn’t hold the charm of the Canals and water ways of Annecy. But this is all partly my fault, I chose Como as a stopover on my way to Milan to pick up Yvette and could have easily chosen Belagio or some of the countless prettier towns on the western shore, although these would have been a bit of a drive.

The Gothic Interior

With Yvette’s visit came the end of my trip to Italy, I showed her the boulders, routes and beautiful valleys and she fell for this little bit of Italy as well. Dropping her off at Colico station I headed north to the Splugen pass. This tight mountain road, zig zagged up snow capped mountains, cars going up with their engines over heating in first and second and clutches stretched to the max and cars going down with burning brake pads. At the highest point you pass over the border and into Switzerland, waved through by a Swiss border guard whose only English was “Bye Bye”.

Rainy Como

But Switzerland immediately makes me yawn, good roads, quite ancient mountain villages with not an inhabitant to be seen and not a shop or cafe in sight; expensive food, expensive everything and completely lacking that atmosphere that you get in almost all other European countries. On the plus side the campsite is cheap at €3 a night, whilst for that you just get a porta loo and a small stream to wash yourself, clothes and dishes and drink from and with everything so expensive you quickly stop spending anything that isn’t necessary, well maybe a bit of that Swiss Chocolate.

The bouldering is just across the river on a steep mossy forest, the boulders are jumbled all on top of one another, making the landings generally awful. Walking around is a bit dicey with lots of holes to fall into and slippery slopes leading down to the river. The boulder problems are in general excellent, if all in the higher grades. The quality of climbers here is amazing, so many strong Euro Wads, climbing in the 8’s. I was invited out with Katy Whittaker and Ryan Pascal for a session, being joined later by Tyler Landerman. This was my first taste of really hard climbing, Katy ticked an amazing 7C, while I pulled through most the moves, needing to come back for the last move which apparently shouldn’t be the crux. Ryan and I pulled onto Jack the Chipper a very hard 7C+, and was quite pleased to see us both failing on the same move, although I’m sure without a dodgy finger he could have cleaned up.

The bad part of the area is the landings, being on my own there is little for me to do and I have to team up with other climbers and join in what they want to do. Being one of the weaker guys here that generally means throwing myself at seemingly impossible problems. It’s hard to find a project that I can work on my own, but have set my sights on Supernova a hard 7C on the Bruno boulder beside the river. One thing this place has done is to raise my game up to the next level.

Mountains around the Splugen Pass

Thunder and Lightning

It’s been getting hotter and hotter here and the freezing glacial streams look more and more tempting for a quick dip to cool off. I’ve been introducing some visiting Brits and Swedes to the boulders and managed a huge sessions of repeats and then worked a 7A in the cool of the forest of Bagni until a crystal slashed my finger tip. I was so close and a new sequence discovered by one of the Swedes am sure would have guaranteed success, but with a 7B in the bag a couple of days before I am feeling quite content about how my climbing has improved.

The hot days have produced an incredible violent reaction from the surrounding mountains, vast thunder and lightning storms. The current one has raged for two days, at night the pour of the rain drums constantly into the tent and flooding the campsite. The lightning comes in blinding flashes, piercing sealed eye lids and preventing any sleep, outside the flashes can be separated into blues, reds, oranges and brilliant whites. Inside the tent it feels like some strobe lighting. You find yourself counting the seconds from the lightning flash to the thunder which machine guns around the valley its cracks echoing off the Granite walls. You count not because of some school boy science experiment, but because you earnestly want to know how close the lightning is, feeling incredible vulnerable inside the tent, unable to sleep from the rain, thunder and lightning you try not to even reach up, hoping the insulation of your rubber mat will be of some use. Even with my rational brain telling me that there are plenty of other higher and better conductors out there, your brain still goes around in circles. Suddenly those long hot and greasy days when climbing seems almost impossible seem a blessing to those longs days stuck in the campsite bar, trying not to spend anything and playing Monopoly against the computer.

With the thunder and lightning hopefully ending Yvette is coming over for a five day climbing trip, this gives me the opportunity to take in the shores of Lake Como as I head down to Milan to pick her up and with her departure my time and Val di Mello ends. It’s on to Magic Woods and those magic grades and the tedium and organisation of Switzerland.

Some Bouldering Photos from Val di Mello

Stephan on a 7A dyno

Stephan on a powerful 6B crack climb

Raphael on a roadside 6c

Sam on the first 6C in Val di Mello

Chris warming up on a 5C

Val di Bagni

It’s hot here, so hot. At weekends it gets busier and busier as the crowds escape from Milan which apparently is even hotter. The rivers still carry some of their glacial cool with them and plummet the temperature by a good 10 degrees, making bouldering next to them a pleasure, but away from the rivers you can’t last more than 20 minutes. I have taken to starting climbing at 5.00, just as the evening cool comes in.

Val di Bagni

But there is one hidden gem, Val di Bagni, breaking west out of Val di Massino instead of east to Val di Melo this Valley is the opposite of Melo, where Melo is wide meadows, with stone villages, sporadic forests and boulders catching the full glare of the sun. Bagni is tall dark Beech and Pine forests, glacial streams pouring through it off the alpine summit of Piz Baldie into a raging torrent at the bottom. The forest floor is covered in moss and the forest is dark and very cool. The boulders are often very high here, making a fine line between a boulder problem and a solo. As with much of the area many of the problems are reverting back to nature, simply not enough boulders to keep the moss at bay. The best problems tend to remain clean, but I would bring a wire brush next time I visit.

More Val di Bagni

The cool of the forest has allowed me to release a bit more energy into the bouldering and feeling back on form managed a 6c+. It was typical of the local problems, low sit start with one tiny foothold which this time was in a position I could use. One hand on the sloping arête and other crimping a small undercling, then a lightning slap up to another crimp for the right hand, reposition my body and throw again with my right for the finishing hold and topping it out. The perfect combination of static control from my left arm and dynamic snatches with my right!

Unfortunately I don’t have any photos of me in action on the boulders as it is hard to climb and take photos of myself. I thought of getting the tripod out and using the self timer, but this would look blatantly posed. So I’ve only got more photos of the scenery, sorry for yet more alpine streams, but hopefully this set of photos will illustrate the difference between Bagni and Val di Mello.

I seem to have written this blog in two parts and haven’t been able to think of away to link them without rewriting the above, so just going to launch into the next section.

Every fourth day I have as a rest day, this rest day I should decided I should be a bit more active. With so many mountains around there is loads of good walks. So up I headed to Bagni after a sleepless night thanks to the tent load of kids and a dog which are camped feet away from my head. I soon found a path signposted to the refugio of Omio, a nice trail with the odd painted boulders so you don’t get lost and even a time estimate on a sign of two and a half hours. For those of you who know me, years of canoeing and climbing have done a tremendous amount to unnuture my legs, and bean poles is an apt description. Unknown to me this hike took me nicely from the valley floor of Bagni as 1200 metres up to the refugio Omio at 2500 metres; it was one long hard slog uphill the whole way. I only made it by sheer will power as my fitness and muscles had given up somewhere down in the forests. The estimate of two and half hours was spot on for me, although someone with legs could probably do it in half the time.

The Refugio at 2500m

My only saving grace was the walking poles I had bought last year when Yvette and I went to Switzerland. They helped a tremendous amount to pull me up the hills and even more to soften the impact on the long two hour descent. I probably won’t do this sort of masochistic exercise every rest day, but for a one off, being able to walk through forested valleys, into the alpine meadows then into the rough highlands and see the nature slowly change is quite remarkable and probably only possible in a walk which increases in altitude so quickly. On route it is pretty much just you and nature, the odd ‘fitter’ walker would amble past and apart from a long green snake which slithered out of my way and one herd of cows I was pretty much alone.

Walkers approaching the Refugio

Enough of the romanticisms! Reckon my legs are going to ache something terrible tomorrow.

Climbing in Italy

So i’ve been calling myself and Englishwoman for the past two weeks, but it seems no one under standards my Italian anyway, so probably went unnoticed. My efforts to find out how to order things in Italian with the staff at the campsite ended up with an unwanted cappuccino. To combat these problems I am keeping things as simple as possible, and just getting the names of items I need.

But I wanted to write a bit about the climbing here. The rock is Granite. Depending on where you are in the valley this can be packed with finger slicing crystals or smooth and more similar to sandstone. The problems come in all sorts, overhangs, slabs, headwalls and lots of arêtes. Being glacial formed they have one key feature! Holds get bigger as you go up. This means that top outs are great, but finding footholds to start the problems can be a nightmare. This is the place to come to sort your footwork out.

A lot of the problems have been set for the Mellobloca bouldering competition they hold here every May. This is good and bad, hundreds of new boulder problems are made every year, but the route setters seem to be mainly on the short side and love adding heinous sit starts. Being 6’ 2’’ and not 5’ 5’’ I can have enormous struggles get my arse of the ground, often not helped by the tiny crystals that are available in always the wrong place for your feet.

Regarding climbing for everyone the majority of climbs are in the sixes and above. Although there are plenty of great fives you would probably run out or be pushed into some of the highball ones if you were here for over a week. My climbing has gradually improved and have ticked a few 7a’s and a 7a+, am close on a couple of 7b’s and put together the moves on a 7c this morning, but now need to connect it. On the other hand there are still quite a few 6a’s which I haven’t completed.

As an overview most of the problems require quite a bit of effort and thought to get. There are very few which are a give away at the grade and you will almost certainly find some where your morphology will help (read I managed to lank my way through a couple of problems) and many where your morphology will be the biggest burden in the world. But in the end every problem is very rewarding and satisfying, whether it is 6a or 7a.

Scenic Val di Mello

I sort of told a half truth when I said I was staying at Val di Mello, I’m actually about a mile down the valley next to the Sasso Remano boulder. I took my first proper trip into Val di Mello today as a rest day, hiking up the valley as the road runs out pretty early on. Now, I know I made a big thing about how amazing my current location was, but I think the actual Val di Mello has come up trumps. I don’t think I need to go into detail after my last post, it’s just more of the same, rivers, waterfalls, meadows, cliffs and mountains. But wow, I’ll let the following photos do the talking. You might want to click on them as I don’t think they appear very small in the browser and you might want to appreciate them a bit larger.

But enough of the scenery, the people here make it just as much an amazing place as the views. On my first night I wandered up to San Martino for a beer at the local bar, unfortunately my small change didn’t quite reach the needed €2, and the bar didn’t have change for €50. It was simple to them, just pay tomorrow. So up I went the next evening to pay back my debt and visit another cafe. Unfortunately I timed my trip dreadful and the skies completely opened. I sat there hoping for a gap in the rain to dash the mile back to camp, but it never came. As always the locals had the answer, an umbrella, I was on my, return my umbrella the next day.

My rest day hiking up the Val di Mello also couldn’t have been made more cheerful by the locals, everyone stopped to chat in broken English and Italian (my Italian is slowly improving). Lunch was at a refugio where I just ordered the local food with the help of my phrase book. The local stonemason told me I had to have the local wine with the meal as it was the best and he nosed through my climbing guidebook through the meal pointing at climbers he knew and areas which were very good. The meal was exactly what you would expect, nothing fancy; a starter of cheese and salami with bread and a main of thick creamy / cheesy polenta with a bit of meat on the side. The wine was coarse and acidic, helping me not to drink too much and cutting the richness of the Polenta which was so filling I had to leave some. So as not to upset the cook I made sure to learn ‘very good’ in Italian. To finish the meal the Stonemason who seemed to live at the refugio gave me a climber’s rate of €10 for the whole meal of starter, main and half a litre of wine. Might have to make this trip part of the weekly regime!

Over the Alps and into Italy

Our last few days in France passed very slowly, we moved from Annecy to Cluses near Chamonix, a good location for me to start my journey to Italy and also to drop Yvette at Geneva airport. The bad weather continued, although we managed to get some climbing in and whilst the weather held took a scenic drive along some of Europe’s highest roads to take in the snow capped mountains.

The Mont Blanc Range, Grey and Misty

Monday was Yvette’s final day and also my thirtieth birthday, not quite the way I envisaged my thirtieth, but it was the way we planned it. I dropped Yvette off at Geneva airport and promptly had the car searched by the French police on re-entry into France. Apparently a single guy in a British car is suspicious. After numerous questions in broken French and English about where I was going and where I had been I was let go. The only good part of the day so far was that it was sunny, but as I entered the Alps a massive storm sat directly over Cluses, flooding the little campsite and making any possibility of cooking disappear. I opted for a table for one at the local pizza restaurant and then a beer in town, it was only nine o’clock when I returned; probably the earliest to bed I have ever been on my birthday.

I left as soon as I could the next day, In front of me loomed Mont Blanc, with its snow capped peaks and glaciers stretching down into the valley it was magnificent, but you couldn’t help but notice the factories and warehouses littered on either side of the road. I left the French Alps through the Mont Blanc tunnel, stunned by the scenery, but disappointed by the ramshackle towns and industrial estates in the valleys. Once through the Tunnel and Italy the architecture changed, although the industrial estates still littered the valleys picturesque castles loomed on top of hills and minareted churches clung to the side of the mountains. The driving became much more unpredictable, road works suddenly loomed up without warnings and you always had to be alert to what lane to go in. Drivers tended to start their manoeuvres without looking, although they always seemed to notice you before causing a collision. My Sat Nav worked perfectly until I had the only tricky section around Milan, somehow I scrapped through.

Routes in Sasso Remano, the largest boulder in Europe

Next was lake Como, with the mountains crashing down into its shores I made a note to get back here on a rest day to have a look around. Soon I was winding my way up the mountains to San Martino and the Val di Mello. This is what you want alpine valleys to look like. Lush flowering meadows, a mountain stream cascading through the middle, steep granite cliffs on either side and in the distance snowed capped peaks with their Glaciers winding down to the ancient villages in the valley. Suddenly everything felt good again, and it was sunny. This is going to be my base for the next month, climbing the boulder fields on the valley floor and chilling in the alpine villages. I’m enjoying it already.

Bouldering in Val di Melo

The Different Faces of France

My big road trip of Europe has started and has so far been a wet one. Yvette has joined me for the first 10 days of my planned 3 month expedition and our first port of call was a return to Fontainebleau, a month earlier it had been almost too hot to climb. Now it was too wet, our first day was almost completely rained off and we had a forced tour of the herb market at Milly la Foret. At least the evening cleared up, allowing us to cook dinner in the dry. Unfortunately the next day was more of the same, although we did get a bit more climbing in as the sun finally came out in the afternoon.

Sleepy Little Bourgogne and then Busy Bourgogne

Our next stop was a couple of hours further south at Saussois in the Bourgogne (Burgundy) region. Just near Auxerre this is sleepy little France, a France where everything opens and closes on the whim of the shopkeeper. Villages which in England would be guaranteed at least one Pub or bar are ghost towns, you have to travel through a few villages till you find one which has a bar open to wait until the rain stops. Shops might open for a few hours in the morning, just enough time to get your groceries or a baguette. Saying goodbye to sleepy France was a relief after our one night stop. We now headed south to the Cote d’ Or, the heart of Bourgogne wine production with names such as Nuit St George, Gevrey Chambertin, Brochon and Fixin. Acres and acres of vineyards stretch from the dense forests towards the distance horizons, chateau’s peep out from in between vineyards and this is definitely not sleepy France. Everywhere is busy, the vineyards are constantly being checked, tractors and even horse drawn ploughs are in action everywhere. You get the impression of everyone working hard to produce their world famous wine.

The Palace of the Dukes of Burgundy and Cafe Culture in the Centre of Dijon

We take an afternoon off and head into Dijon the regions capital, famous for its mustard and wine. This is the heart of trendy France, the wide medieval street are lined with all the latest fashions, the roofs of the buildings are tiled in bright colours and in the centre sits the palace of the Dukes of Burgundy with the city laid out neatly around it. The wealth of the city is portrayed in the vast number of churches and cathedrals , some dating back to the 13^th Century and some of the facades designed to rival the best in Italy. To me I find churches depressing, reflecting to me the persecution and psychological imprisonment that religion brings to the world. With the touristy bit out the way we treated ourselves to what the French do best, food and Yvette had her first taste of Snails! Although for all those who have eaten then they tend to just taste of the strong garlic sauce they come in.

The next day we managed to squeeze in a bit of climbing and then headed down to the capital of the Cote d’ Or, Beaune, this walled Medieval town is the heart of Pretentious France, the patisserie owners looks down their noses at our dirty (climbers) attire and we feel very out of place amongst load Americans and the dressed up French. I was relieved to escape back to our campsite.

Our time in the Bourgogne finished we headed on down to the Alps, to Yvette’s final port of call before I drop her off at the Airport and I head into Italy to continue my tour. The trend of this trip continues. Rain blocks out all views of the surrounding mountains and valleys. We arrive at lunch time and find all the shops closed, preventing us from getting more gas for our cooker and a guide for the climbing, encase its stops raining and we get the opportunity. We’ve opted to have a few nights of luxury in Annecy, with its fast flowing canals and tall ancient buildings it is beautiful and would be impressive to see it on a sunny day. As I finish writing this I have my fingers crossed hoping that this crap weather will blow over us and we can get on with the job of having a holiday!

Historique, Wet, Beautifull, but some how Soleless Annecy