Mello

Some photos of Mello, we've now had her for just over a year. Two from her climbing trip to the Wye Valley and the other from last Christmas.

Yvette and Jon do Spain

Really haven’t been very good at keeping this blog going over the summer. My main excuse is I can only keep one thing going at a time and I’ve devoted myself to trying to write a book. I say trying, well I have written one. Whether it’s good enough to get published is another matter. But guess will just have to wait and see.

Valencia Center

Since I last posted, Yvette and I finally got our house. It was a fight, but in the end we moved in at the end of July. We’ve been busy getting it all homely and just enjoying having our own place. I’ve built a training wall in the garage so I can get cranking and get a good winter in the rock. That was the plan, but within a week of it being finished I tore my main tendon in my forearm pulling to hard, on too small a holds on too hard a move. It’s now nearly 8 weeks since I did that and I’m only slowly getting back into climbing.

Trying to think back for the last five months to what I have been doing. I guess one highlight was two weeks in Spain with Yvete, having our annual climbing trip (I couldn’t climb much thanks to tendon). It was a good little adventure, mostly I covered the same area as I did with Steve back in April. The main difference this time was I had a bit more money to spend, so we ate out a bit more.

Cuenca

Eating out in Spain is a bit of a lottery, the first roll of the dice is whether the restaurant chooses to open, and if it does whether it’s before my British stomach can’t wait and more and goes else were. The next roll is if the food is any good or just microwaved for you. Finally it’s the lottery of whether you can actually translate the menu or if they have an English Menu they’ve translated correctly.

All this leads to a few interesting meals. Breadcrumbs with Ham and Tomatoes, is just a plate of fried breadcrumbs, sorry Yvette for not finding Tripe in the dictionary, guess I’ll eat that one, but we did manage to translate and not order Pigs ear soup. We did have many interesting meals and probably spent more time eating than we did climbing.

Yvette's First Font 6A

Other than our culinary adventures in Spain there isn’t much to report, Yvette bouldered her first font 6A, I climbed all the easy things I could. We went to Valencia and I got Cityatitis as usual and then we flew home. We did learn that mixing climbing and culture doesn’t really work. It’s one thing to climb most the day then sit on the beach and swim in the sea. Another to climb most the day, then walk up steep hills in medieval towns and try and look around museums, the later doesn’t really work. Promise to get an update out after Christmas.

Business of Being at Home

Wow, I really haven’t written anything for ages. The thing is life at home just isn’t as exciting as life on the road. I’ve also been pretty busy. The flat is finally sold and I move out on 13^th. It’s amazing how much stuff you accumulate over the years. It piles up in every hidden corner. Every day I cram more furniture, junk and odds and sods into the van.

With the sale is also the purchase of our new place in Godalming, the plan was to move in on the 13^th, this has been slightly delayed. First of all by us being a bit slow on some paperwork, then HSBC cocking things up and now the seller is being slow. But hopefully by the end of July Yvette and I will have a lovely new house in Godalming and I promise to put up photos.

In between this I’ve managed to get a bit of climbing in, finally breaking into the E grades with a superb E2 up in the peaks and an E1 in Dartmoor, both great outings on beautifully sculptured rock, accompanied by bomber gear and great weather. It’s nice to see the time on rock paying off.

Other than that, I’ve had a great 5 days surfing and enjoying the beach of Cornwall. Hopefully post again soon.

The Return

Looking back the last week went very quickly, at the time I’m sure it felt very slow. We were joined in Gorge de Tarn by the same Brits as from Spain, so once more our evening where spent chilling with Ben, Charlie, Gillian, Bob and Tash. We even opened out the Uno cards, although this resulted in me breaking my chair as I attempted to sneak at peak at Tash’s last card.
I learnt a lot about my climbing in Gorge de Tarn, the first was what ‘Pump’ really means, not some dull ache in your arms, but screaming muscles which uncurl your fingers on every hold. I revisited a 7a I had failed on, normally the redpoint at this grade is just a formality, but I still pulled onto the top slab with a big question mark whether I could fight the pump in my arms and reach the chains. The other lesson was that I am a good route climber, I just need to push on through and take the falls. Because of this I am now super psyched to get back into routes and have set a few goals for the summer.Gorge de Tarn
For our last few day we headed back up through France, a short stop off at the now baking sands of Fontainebleau resulted in more sitting and looking at boulders than climbing them. A quick drink with Toby and Nicky who were down for the week and it was our last night of the trip. The plan being to grab a few hours sleep before heading off at 1 a.m for the 6.45am ferry. Those few hours sleep didn’t happen, an excessively warm van when I got my head down at 9.00 didn’t help, neither did the German van with headlights on full beam taking half an hour to park up beside me, nor the massive party happening 500m down the road at the race course. By 12.30 I gave up, woke up Steve and hit the road early. It was probably lucky I didn’t sleep as my alarm was set for 1.00 next lunch time and not in the morning.
Planet Cause, one of the best 7a+ i've ever been on
So now we’re both safely back in the UK, the van’s clutch problem has nicely been covered by the warrantee, I’ve had my first session back at Craggy which felt hotter and sweater than Gorge de Tarn in the sun and been well chewed by Mello, who seems very happy to see me again.

Gorge de Tarn

We finished off in Margalef with a playful day on an amazing 7c then down to the coast and Raul and Sabina. As always Spanish hospitality was at its best, an amazing meal, good wine, a hot shower (the first of the trip) and a soft bed; if only we could have stayed longer. But the drive to France was beckoning and up we headed, the further towards France we got the harder it rained, by the time we went over the Pyrenees it was torrent, giving the van a well needed clean.

It eased off as we came past Millau and into the valley, parking up beneath a huge rock roof which kept the remainder of the downpour off us. As often happens we pumped into another couple of Brits who we had climbed with in Siurana and Margalef. Bob and Tash, who I also knew from my days climbing in Portland are just wrapping up their trip as well, slowly heading back through France to England. Other British climbers who we met in Spain are also likely to pop in during the next few days.

Gorge de Tarn is quite an amazing place, a crystal clear river runs through the centre and the cliffs rise up vertically and overhanging on either side. We only climb on one side, on routes that are often long and draining. I’ve been working on my stamina, so working on doing multiple 7a’s and 7b’s in a day. Sometimes the 7a’s get climbed onsight, but more often than not my stamina fails me and then my exhausted arm’s struggle to get me to the chains at the top. I would love to project something harder here, but without the stamina that is unlikely.

The trip is now coming to an end, within the week (depending on when I get this blog up) I will back in England with Yvette the Puppy and everyone else. I will be relieved when it’s over, I still am amazingly psyched to climb and climb and would love to stay here in the Tarn and get good on routes. But many other parts of the trip have taken their toll of me and I am ready for home.

Margalef

We left Siurana and travelled across the hills to Margalef. Although Siurana was amazing for the scenery and being able to watch Steve McClure onsight his way through an 8b and and 8b+ in a day I needed something that suited me a bit more. The village of Margalef must rate as one of the quietest in Spain, a half empty store, closed refuge and the odd trickling fountain. But we’re not staying in the village but up a wiggling track with steep roofs of rock powering their way over your head as you drive through. This is what we came here for, short steep and powerful routes in deep pockets.
Waiting to Climb
The rock is a limestone conglomerate, so limestone packed with pebbles and stones, where these fall out you have your perfect lipped pockets to pull on, where they haven’t a slopey crimp or future foothold to use. The other thing which is different in Margalef is the wind! We enjoy light warm breezes throughout the day which stop us overheating on the routes. As dusk comes down these are replaced by gales which rip through the valley, changing direction every few minutes to shake the van and toss our chairs across the campsite if we’re not sat in them.
Charlie and Gillian warming up
Moving away from Margalef and back to my last post, I think I may have been guilty for using my blog and this keyboard to vent my frustrations, sometimes on a long trip when it’s just the two of you it can feel like your only outlet, hence the bit of re-editing on my last post. But moving on, Margalef might not be as beautiful as Siurana but the climbing here has cheered me up, we have enjoyed every route we have been on from pumpy 6b warm-ups to very steep pocket pulls on 7b’s and 7c’s. I still have not mastered the art of redpointing a route where you practice the moves before linking them together from the ground up; but I’m making progress. One thing you do notice on the routes here is how much your body gets pumped by them, even a warm up, although none of the moves are harder than any other place we are climbed we find our forearms screaming with lactic acid within a few clips.
We’re finding that we are strong enough for almost anything, but just lack the stamina, I cruised my way through the crux of a 7b+ only to fail a clip from the end as my stamina failed and I couldn’t cling onto the easier climbing to finish. At the moment we are just trying to climb everything we see, we have a few goes on some of the harder stuff but if it doesn’t go quickly we move on and find more entertainment.
Ben at full stretch in Margalef
We have two more days of pocket pulling to go before moving up to see Raul and Sabina near Barcelona then onwards to France for the final week and a bit of the trip.

Siurana

Siurana; we’re parked up beneath an ancient ruined castle, its parapets straddling the small rock outcrop that makes up Siurana village, its complete with Keep, domed roofs and a tunnel underneath to sneak in by. Siurana is famous for its waves of overhanging rock and one of the world’s first 9a, ‘La Rambla’. We came here so psyched after our time in Cuenca and rest up on the beach. But so far Siurana has been nothing but disappointment. We warmed up in the sun on our first day and quickly realised that further climbing in the heat would be impossible, so we chilled till the shade covered the cliffs. We warmed up once more and I pulled onto one of the classic 7a+’s. I have nothing positive to say about the route, the bolts where all over the place, you clipped off barn door potential side pulls when there was an obvious jug below and a few feet afterwards which would have made better position for the bolt. I fought on till the 6^th clip and was then faced with a 4m run out on strenuous ground and lowered off. It put me in such a foul mood I also bailed on the next 7a, also meant to be a classic of the area.

British Van's parked up in Siurana

I promised myself a clear head and positive outlook for the next day. We warmed up on one of the most enjoyable route so far then leapt into Bitec de Biceps a 7b+ on very steep ground. I got through the first crux and then came off above the second clip trying to dig my fingers into a shallow pocket. I gave it a few more goes before lowering down for a rest. Steve pulled on and flashed it, going through some obviously run and sketchy terrain near the top. I realised that if I failed to get it then I risked leaving at least £50 of gear in the route as a present for the next climber, the bolts being too far apart to bolt to bolt it. I had to call it a day. I am now gutted that we left Cuenca, there were so many lines that were perfect for me.