To Albarracin

Targasonne should have been a three day stop over, but on the second day the heavens opened and we where drenched in snow. Snuggled up in a local bar over the Plat de Jour of Tripe stew (it was pretty good, only the last bit looked a bit too much like a pig’s intestine) and free internet the conclusion was inevitable; lets head straight to Albarracin. So we left those amazing lines of Targasonne and headed south through a very wet Spanish Pyrenees and down to Albarracin. Yet another massive 8 hours of driving, although this was more eventful, we had the celebrations of achieving a whopping 50miles to the Gallon, meaning the less fuel the van drinks the more we can drink. But within in sight of Albarracin we couldn’t change gear. My clutch just wouldn’t work. I managed to get the car going by starting it in gear and could just change between them, so we crawled the last miles, in the centre of Albarracin I couldn’t even change anything and we cruised to a halt in a parking bay two miles short of our goal.

The parking (camping) at Albarracin

There was nothing for it but to sleep in the van and see what we could sort out the next day, neither of us being mechanics we could only guess and hope it was just the clutch cable that had gone. The next morning our limited Spanish was put to the test, we ascertained there was a mechanic one kilometre down the road and headed off with some hope. At the garage a young mechanic asked us to wait for the boss who on arrival whisked us back up to the van to have a look. He immediately diagnosed the problem; we had a small brake fluid leak which also powered the clutch. A fill up, another bump start and we were back in business with only a thirty-two euro bill, most of which was for the extra can of brake fluid we bought encase of further leakage. Our broken Spanish had prevailed and we had a good hour of amusement watching the mechanics repeatedly getting into the wrong side of the van to drive. The hardest bit of the whole job was when the mechanic dropped the cap to the brake fluid tank into the engine and the younger mechanic was sent for to try and fish it out.

The snow and roof of Albarracin

The mechanic reckoned the clutch should now be fine till be get back to England, but to check the brake fluid occasionally. So a day later than planned we finally arrived at the bouldering of Albarracin. We thought the snow had been deep up in the Pyrenees, but here it was nearly a foot in places and very cold. We knew that Albarracin was high at 1300m, but didn’t expect this much snow, especially in April. The snow has meant a lot of the problems where wet, but we found an amazing roof section to while away the afternoon on, including the first 7C of the trip.
One thing you also start to realise about life on the road, especially a trip like this in Spring, is that when things aren’t perfect life can get pretty boring. Life revolves around sleeping, eating, climbing, eating, reading, climbing, eating and then sleeping. It’s cold and damp outside so almost all of the above except the climbing is done in the van. It’s the little things that get you through the day, the enjoyment of a good book, making sure the cheese and sausage of lunch is good and trying on a limited budget to cook a descent dinner. Tonight’s delicacy of Spanish sausages and ham in red wine and tomato sauce with veg and potatoes was particularly good. But tomorrows will be the left over sauce with some extra veg with rice and if we’re unlucky so will the next days. It’s not all glamorous on the road.

Back on the Road

Since India life’s been taken up with work and a bit of climbing, I never found time to finish my last part of my India trip for the Blog. All the time was the plan to get back on the road. Only for a short time, but back climbing properly again! I had my notice handed in for 15^th of March, but still no plans, only the week after this did things start falling into place, I got the van and with Steve on board rushed to get it done for our Thursday departure, as with all DIY I left the craftsmanship to Steve and allowed myself to do the furnishings and fittings (bits that are less likely to be bodged).

The Van under Moonlight and below Steve in Font

Thursday finally came, the van finally being completed the night before and we headed down to Dover, in Fontainebleau we crashed out at the Hippodrome, a large horse racing circuit with free camping on the side, but no facilities. It was great being back on the slopey sandstone of Font, an over confident approach with my feet left me arse down on the mat a few times, but I soon got the hang of it. For a first day back bouldering it wasn’t bad, three 7A’s and a 7A+, things felt good! Things felt better as we had joined a group of Canadians touring Europe of the winter, including Tim who I had so much fun climbing with in Magic Woods last year. To top the social gathering Raul and Sabina pitched up that night brining Johnny and her three new little baby Ferrets. Unfortunately with only one more night left in Font we never managed to fit in the regular Uno nights of Magic Wood. Our two days in Font where just what we needed, we got our eye in and got a huge confidence boost from the quick send of an amazing 7B+ roof. We left feeling really ready for the rest of the trip.

Panoramic view of Targasonne, the Pyrenees with the Van in the Foreground

Life on the road can also be pretty boring, the next day was exactly that 10 hours of driving, those pretty villages of Font soon gave way to the monotony of flat French countryside stretching for miles and miles. After 5 hours we finally hit the Dordogne, but were too knackered to enjoy it. The only highlight of the trip was turning that last hill after Toulouse and being confronted by the Pyrenees with their snow capped peaks, within the hour we were up in the snow line, snaking through the passes on our way to Targasonne at 1500m, luckily Targasonne or ‘Le Chaos de Targasonne’ as its know is south facing and the doesn’t linger for long, but it was cold enough to freeze the van’s windows in the morning.

Me taking the swing in Targasonne

‘Le Chaos of Targasonne’ describes it perfectly, from a high vantage point you have this amazing pile of boulders stretching out from you for a 1km in each direction, but beyond that is just fields and mountains, no more boulders. The climbing is on ruff granite blocks of all shapes and sizes, often following incredible lines. In the sun we climbed in t-shirts, but quickly backed out of the shade where the temperature plummeted. So far the climbing has been excellent, with two days here before we commence our journey to Albaraccin we’re seriously concerned if our finger tips will last.