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.

The Beauty of Spain

Team Spain
Being a climbing bum is great fun, you go to some of the most beautiful places in the world, hang around with honest and interesting people and get to do cool things all day! Being stuck in the flat back in rainy England isn’t so much fun. Trying not to die of boredom seems to be my sole preservation. I have managed to survive by a combination of coffee in town, reading a massive biography of the revolutionary idealist Che Guevara, making bread and the odd trip to the climbing wall. So when my text plea to friends was answered by Adrian saying there was a possibility of a place in Jane’s hire car for a trip to Spain for a week. I was a dead cert!

Rodellar Village

Terradetts Multipitch

The trip was put together by Martin and a team of Southern Sandstone climbers, most of whom I had met at some point. Me and Jane where to fly from Bournemouth (which is actually really easy to get to from Guildford), hire a car and join them in Rodellar in the foot hills of the Pyrenees. This would have been a great plan if it hadn’t been raining for a week across the north of Spain, all the crags where soaked and the river which you have to cross to get to most of the climbing was a thundering torrent. As a result our stay was brief and we headed over to Terradetts further to the west. Although still damp the cliffs where much quicker drying and on our third day in Spain we explored some of the massive multipitch options. Jane and I opted for Smokin a 7 pitch 215 metre 6b route, the climbing was delicate to say the least and with some juicy run outs which really tested my nerves, I only really started to relax and enjoy the climbing once the crux pitch had been lead and we neared the top. I had to make a mental note to myself not to do multipitch for a while.

Castle in Terradetts Valley

Lake of Terradetts

Our accommodation was at cheap refuges which provide dorm accommodation and an evening meal, although nothing fancy it keeps you going and the beer and coffee is cheap. After our day of multipitch we travelled further afield to check out the new climbing area of Santa Linya, this area, slowly being made famous by the attention of some of the world’s top climbers is gradually being developed and is certainly an area to look out for in coming years, offering routes of all grades.

Fording rivers in Rodellar

I feel I need to inject a bit of excitement into this trip, but there is little to add. The areas we travelled through where of extraordinary natural beauty. Steep gorges, snow capped mountains, valleys with eagles and vultures circling beneath you. I hope my photos do the area justice. On our return to Rodellar the end of the week the rock had dried and river subsided. This village on top of a steep gorge boasts some of the hardest climbing in Spain on steep pocketed limestone. To access many of the crags we forded the freezing river, the longer fords numbed your feet. We stayed at a new refuge, being built by a dreadlocked Swiss guy, Kalandraka was aimed completely at the climbing market, by far the cheapest place we stayed it had a lively atmosphere. If you are heading in that direction please stop and check it out.

Enough of this little excursion, I wish I had more to add, but that’s the way some trips go.

Freezing!

-8˚C, aren’t we meant to be having global warming? All winter it’s been pretty mild. Until I decide to head up to the Peak district for a week of climbing! Then it decides to drop to -8˚C. Camping in this is fairly unpleasant. To give you an idea of what it involves it means sleeping in a full set of thermals, two of the warmest pairs of socks you have, a woolly hat and your best sleeping bag equipped with a liner to make it warmer. Even with all this you will still wake up regularly feeling chilly, every time you roll over fresh freezing air will circulate around your sleeping back making you shiver. Icicles will grow from the ceiling of the tent, only to melt and drip on you as the sun rises.

My frozen tent.

Other notable effects of these freezing conditions are that bottle of water you have and need to make your morning coffee has frozen solid. On the good side, the frozen chilli con carne I made before my departure is still frozen solid and so has lasted nicely for the last 5 days. However, the litre of orange juice I also froze is still frozen and hence undrinkable.

Stanage basking in the sun

But enough of the freezing conditions, during the day the opposite happen, as soon as the sun rises everything becomes gloriously warm. I have been heading up to Stanage, a mile long escarpment of grit stone to climb on the boulders scattered below it, an activity called Bouldering. While I have been sleeping, wrapped up in my thermals and woolly hat, up here during the day its back down to t-shirts and feeling like summer. A side effect of this weather system is the amazing sunsets which have lit the sky up blood red every evening and turned the moorland orange.

The world of climbing is very small and also very social, so it wasn’t long before I’d met some people from my local climbing wall in Guildford to try some boulder problems with. Bouldering is slightly different from regular climbing. Generally you aren’t climbing to high and your climbing is protected by a foam mat to land on when you fall off. However, the aim is generally to climb the hardest moves you possibly can, this means you generally don’t climb the boulder first time, but have to try repeatedly to get the moves right. This can take a few goes, maybe a few days, or even a few years. Obviously you can also get it right first go. So far I have managed to get quite a lot first go, some of the harder ones took me a few goes and one that I had been trying a lot last year finally got sent*. This was only to be replaced by a new project, which I have been working on for the last few days and still can’t get that last move.

Sunset

Unfortunately grit stone is a harsh medium, with holds more akin to sand paper then rock. After a few days the fact that my finger tips weren’t bleeding was a result of me being sensible and backing off every day when the skin started looking especially thin. Luckily, just down the road is some nice smooth limestone, nestled in the sunny side of the valley I was able to continue climbing and at the same time grow some skin. With Paul in up for a few days we had the opportunity to do some routes. This wasn’t a 100% pleasant experience as yesterday’s first climb was still in the shade and the rock was still freezing, maybe the icicles hanging off it should have given the game away. The result was a complete loss of feeling in the fingers, I couldn’t feel what I was holding onto and to make matters worse once at the top and in the sun they had to defrost. That sickening hot aches feeling left me immobile for a few minutes and I was very happy to abseil off the cliff.

Sunset reflecting off the moorland

Now Paul’s gone its back to the grit stone with fresh fingers and once this freezing mist has lifted it will be back to the rock. Oh, maybe one more coffee before I brave the outdoors again.

Frozen landscape

*climbing jargon for finished the boulder problem.

So, this is it!

So, this is it. I have two days left at work before I head off traveling and climbing and still have many unanswered questions. Is this the right thing to do? Can I support myself and survive? Will I enjoy myself? So many questions, although I have answered most of them, I am still left with nagging doubts.

Leaving work feels harder than it should, I take pride in what I do and the account I have built up over the last year and a half has to be handed over and I am sad to see it go. I have enjoyed the people I work with and the many business men and women around the world I have spoken to, many now on first name terms. However, I am never sure if they dread the sound of my voice or enjoy the chance for a distraction from their work.

Me climbing and Paul belaying.

To get myself in the mood I headed down to Swanage and the Quarries at Dancing Ledge for some climbing with Yvette and Paul, a friend from the local club with a refreshing outlook on life. Bearing in mind I am planning on spending the rest of this year climbing I was hoping for a better start. I climbed like a pansy, got scared the second above a bolt and didn’t commit to a single move. Rather an ominous start. But what a day, early Feb and it could have been late June. Many of the routes are described as needing cold crisp winter conditions to enjoy fully. We got the winter bit right, but the clear and crisp was not happening. It was t-shirts all round.

The day was finished off with a pint at what must be my favourite pub in the world. The Square and Compass in Worth Matravers.

Yvette, belaying and enjoying the sun at Dancing Ledge, Swanage

http://www.hiddendorset.org/index.php/hd/gem/hd1117.html,

It feels like it hasn’t changed in 50 years. Local Beer and Cider are served from a hatch, food is simple and consists of homemade pies or Pasty served on a paper plate and it is the only pub where children, pets, a flock of chickens and some old hippies mingle freely and happily. It’s the perfect ending to a tiring day on the cliffs of Swanage.

Yvette, bringing the refreshments at the Square and Compass

Anyhow, back to reality. What will happen next? First I have to get through two days of work and then the world is my Oyster. Keeping to my budget will be tough, but with finger crossed I will enjoy the ride. Next stop the Peak District.

Kenya Part Two

After our swift journey back to the campsite our vehicle was met by shocked tourists and locals and the campsite soon filled up with worried tourists inspecting the arrow holes and shattered window of our minibus. Yvette headed off to try and wash out the broken glass from her hair and clothes while I tried to contact the British High Commission to report the incident and get advice.

Other tourists did likewise, some started to comprehend the situation. As reports of fuel stations closing as they ran out of fuel, people calculated whether they had enough fuel to escape or enough food to stay at the campsite. Kikuyu, desperate to escape the killings which were happening congregated at the campsite in the hope of a safe lift out. Tourists received calls from desperate Kikuyu, some who had already been badly beaten begging for help.

My attempts to get assistance from the High Commission were futile as they were on holiday, however, the Dutch, German and Japanese tourists had more luck and where able to pass on the advice to hold tight and follow the advice of our tour operator as the whole country was descending into violence. All we could do was to pack our bags, valuables in a grab bag, passport in our pocket and enough money on us to get out. Everything was in the minibus to go at a moment’s notice.

That night we headed off with 6 German tourists to a hotel down the road to celebrate the New Year, one of the more tense new years I have had. But, the company was good and the entertainment of African dancing, fireworks / explosives and interesting food still made it memorable. As did out minibus being pelted with bottles as we headed back to the campsite by a small mob in the town. We didn’t seem to be having much luck.

As we slept hippos brushed against our tent and loudly munched on the vegetation growing around the campsite. We were woken at 5.00am by our driver who had managed to arrange a convoy out. I went to find the Germans we had shared New Year with. One couple had already escaped, driving through the night to miss the roadblocks and get safely to Nakuru. The other couples had low fuel and would have to sit out the violence until help arrived.

Our convoy consisted of an overland truck with 20 Dutch tourists on it, another minibus with a Japanese couple, a car with a Dutch doctor, her husband and two children, a small lorry taking their goats to market in Nairobi and a Kikuyu family desperate to get back to safely. Our first stop was the police station at 6.00am to get a police escort. This was no easy task, 3 hours of negotiations achieved little. After 3 and a half hours our guide suggested we pay them, a minute later we each had an armed police officer in the front of each vehicle and their Landrover started up and ready to go. Unfortunately they couldn’t escort us all the way through the troubled area as part of it was out of their jurisdiction. Another hour of discussion took place and finally a route taking us across the back road up to the top of the Rift Valley and to the safety of Kikuyu lands was decided. We finally left at 11.00.

The route is along very dusty and rocky roads, roads which are never travelled by tourists due to risk of banditry and their remoteness. The journey was of two contrasts, the first travelling through amazingly desolate countryside, with the occasionally village of brightly painted mud huts. The rugged countryside looked like it couldn’t support anything, but still small groups of people lived here.

The dust from the road clogs our view of the other vehicles

The other side of the journey was the toughness of it. The dirt roads kicked up clouds of dust and you couldn’t see the vehicle 200m in front of you because of the clouds. Everyone had wrapped t-shirts over their mouth to stop the dust from chocking them. Our faces where quickly black with the dust and the road was taking its toll on the vehicles. The first to breakdown was the overland truck, followed by the minibus with the Japanese tourists in it. Both repaired quickly by drivers who had as much knowledge of the creatures and people of Kenya as they did of mechanics.

Soon the first challenge was thrown at us. A river had to be forded, its steep exit meant it was all hands in building exit ramps out of stones to allow the car to get enough purchase to exit. 40 strangers started to become a team and the other vehicles quickly made it across the ford. However, it was now the turn of the lorry to breakdown.

The steep ford with the broken down lorry in the background and police in the foreground

The roads got steeper as we climbed up the rift valley zig zagging up seemingly impossible slopes. We frequently had to stop as the vehicles struggled, the terrain was taking its toll on the cars clutch and every time it stopped on a slope we were all out pushing it up the steep hills.

Everyone out of the vehicles helping get the car through. The overland truck can be seen in the distance

Then on one of the steepest sections the lorry slid back out of control and rolled. The driver was flung out, but the passenger wasn’t so lucky, trapped in the cab his leg was broken in three places. I arrived to find the road covered in dead and dying goats, many more were still trapped inside the crushed lorry. By the smell some had already been dead a long time before the crash. The over land truck and majority of the police escort were out of radio contact and couldn’t be called back. But those of us left pulled together.

Our first aid kits were out the van and myself and the Dutch doctor started to splint up the casualty’s leg. Everyone else jumped into action and the Japanese girl nursed him throughout, setting up shelter from the mid day sun and helping him drink. Her husband got to work freeing the surviving goats from the crash while Yvette ferried up water and any drugs we had for the casualty. It felt an honour to be part of a team which hours before had never met but now were pulling together like a trained unit.

After an hour of frantic work the police Landrover noted our absence and returned in time for us to put the casualty in the back. With just 30km left we now had some of the steepest terrain to cross. With the car’s clutch burning out and the risk of some of the vehicles rolling like the lorry we were regularly in and out of different vehicles. I spent most of the next hour in and out of the police Landrover surrounded by armed police. We jumped out on the steepest terrain to help push the car through it. Yvette sat in the front with an armed officer on either side being given a personal tour of the area, an experience she is unlikely to ever forget. All this in the afternoon sun was exhausting. Then we came over the top of the rift valley to be met by a view which few tourists have ever see, from the back of the Landrover I could see across the Rift Valley, it was spectacular.

The rugged countryside as we rose out of the rift valley

Then it was all over we were safely in Kikuyu lands and paid our police escort and headed out for the second leg of the journey. It had been 5 long exhausting hours. At Nyanhuru we said goodbye to the convoy, the remaining vehicles had insufficient fuel to continue to Nairobi and decided to camp for the night. We took on the Kikuyu family to try and get them back to Nairobi. But low on fuel it was still uncertain if we could make it. Our driver was confident we were safe, but with every face looking Alien we didn’t share their confidence. I still felt like a rich westerner who would be easy pickings for any opportunist. On the main high road to Nairobi we found the only petrol station with fuel, charging double the usual price, but it was our only option. It was dark by now and still 2 hours to Nairobi, at the petrol station, a police vehicle rushed by, attending to riots which had broken out in Naivasha, a town we would shortly have to drive through. The rest of the journey went fairly easily, except for the Zebra which bolted out in front of us and bounced off the front of the minibus, adding to the damage we had already received. We passed numerous police road blocks which gave us some notion of safety and then finally we were in Nairobi and safety, it was 9.30pm , some 15 hours after our journey started at the campsite and after 10 hours on the road. A proper, bed and shower were much appreciated.

The next day we were able to bring forward our flights out of Kenya, unfortunately the riots had now started in Nairobi and on the day of our flights mass protests were being planned. Confined to our hotel we watched the news, the Kenya news service broadcasting pictures of a calm and peaceful country, the BBC and CNN of people being hacked to death and the police firing into the crowds. On the day of our departure the police closed off the center of Nairobi and cracked down hard on the rioters. Our driver dressed up for the occasion and managed to persuade the police road blocks that we needed to get into the center. Safely behind police lines the journey to the airport was uneventful and soon it was all over and we were out of Kenya.

We left a beautiful country in turmoil, with tribes attacking tribes, politicians clinging desperately to power and a country which was the picture of African stability in tatters. Yvette has resolved that she will return, but with reports getting worse this seems to be unlikely to be any time soon. I hope we can get back some time.

Letter from Kenya

Some of you may be following the turmoil that is Kenya and which me and Yvette escaped from earlier this year. My good friend Kevo emailed me from Kenya today with his account of what is happening, I found it moving and informative and asked if I could share it with everyone. I hope you enjoy it.

"Greetings hopping all si well with you.

I thanks you so much for your emails and overewhelming support by sending me nice emails checking on me and my family and even some calling. What else can I say rather than saying I am lucky to be your friend.

However, things in kenya are getting from worse to nasty; may be am sure some of you have friends here in kenya and they write to you being optimistic which I would like this email to sound like it, but I am afraid killings is becoming daily occurence in some regions. There is a lot that you are not getting in the media but there is nothing like kenya any more and people are being incited by selfish, barbaric self centered politicians. There is nothing like disputing elections any more but it is something else which I am yet to understand.

In areas where seem to be no law governing people, the so called president has kept quite in the state house and has not even stepped there to show solidarity and calm people as he should show that he is in power. One of our radio station has reported that there are some areas in Rift Valley where only people with sharp tools(panga) can rule and survive.

Things are turning to be tribal and if innocent person finds him/herself in wrong group, the persons life ends there!

Slum areas are poradic and people are moving away from there homes without belongings and camp in police stations and parks. It is sad and hard to tell let alone understand.

Police have been caught in action use brutal methods in some areas under the name of fighting holligans and this has been understood as tribal crack down. Members of Army have been deployed in Naivasha. nakuru and othere areas of Rift valley.

One member of parliament was gunned down early this morning and reports have been coming that property distractions, looting and killings happned in majority of slums in nairobi.

I am in school at the moment but the place is not the same, some of the students have not reported as transport oit side naiorbi have been polorised and thugs have been taking advantage of the situation robbing, rapping and killing people. We are very much hopping that International mediation which is at advanced stage will help calm the situation and gives us our kenya back. At the moment, people can not understand why leaders(selfish politicians) are still talking about power yet people whom they are fighting to lead are perishing.

keep us in your thoughts and prayers and again thank you for your sweet notes.

Lots of love,

kevo "

Kevo with us in Kenya (white shirt 2nd from left of photo)

Kenya Part One

Kenyans waiting patiently to vote

Yvette and I had arrived in Kenya on 26^th the day before the presidential and parliamentary elections for a 3 week safari and beach holiday. We had watched on the 27^th Kenyans queing around the clock to vote, listening to their reasons for voting for Kibaki or Raila. Then slowly watched the votes coming in, as we headed up to Samburu for the start of the safari Raila was clearly wining and as we left Samburu for Lake Baringo Kibaki’s loyal Kikuyu tribe had resigned themselves to him now being an ex-president.
At Lake Baringo things suddenly changed, Kibaki was suddenly announced President and sworn in even quicker, our Kikuyu guide went out to celebrate while the westerners in the camp discussed the audacity of the coup that Kibaki had pulled off. That night while we slept rioting started in the town some 500m from us and any Kikuyu found were being beaten.

Lake Baringo is famous for its birdlife, so we started the day with a boat tour then headed on to Lake Bogaria to see the flamingos and Geysers. We now left these lakes in the upper Rift Valley to head south to Nakuru for the next leg of the safari. Although before we hit the road a quick repair to minibus’s steering column had to be made, as the steering had failed.

Sun rise over Lake Baringo

The journey to Nakuru should only be a quick 2 hour drive down good roads and we were making good time. In the distance a large group of people stood on either side of the road. As we drove past things felt tense. Within another few miles we came across a second large group, this time partly across the road. A police Landrover with armed officers was on hand and although the atmosphere felt even tenser we drove through safely. Still further down the road we found another large group of men. This time they had completely closed off the road and there seemed to be no way to pass. A white truck, which had got through pulled up beside us and a group of 8 locals armed with bows, arrows and clubs got out of the back. Our driver spoke with their driver, I’m guessing about whether we could get through the road block ahead. Suddenly our driver accelerated the minibus away and the armed men jumped back. He threw our vehicle off the road to our left and u turned it to get back on the road. As I looked around I saw the men with their bows pulled back about to shoot. I pushed Yvette’s head down into the foot well and the arrows clattered into the outside of our vehicle.

Soon we were back on the road again and heading back towards the road blocks we had been through earlier, with the white truck with the armed gang chasing us. Fortunately the police Landover had progressed through the road blocks towards us and we pulled them over just up the road to report what had happened to us and left the armed police to deal with the white truck and its occupants. But, we still had 2 road blocks to get through. At the first road block they had been busy since we had passed through and as we drew closer saw large rocks being placed on the road. As we got closer any gaps were being hurriedly closed off. By the time we were a few hundred yards away and the entire road had been closed and the mob surrounding it was looking very hostile. At the last minute our driver saw a gap off road to the right and swerved the vehicle off, the mob ran at the vehicle and I looked around to see they carried stones. Once again Yvette and I ducked down into the foot well as stones smashed into the side of the minibus. This time they were better shots and one put a nice double brick sized rock through Yvette’s window covering us both in shards of glass. It had been another close escape. At the final road block which we had passed with ease earlier in the day, the mob still hadn’t quite sorted their act out and had only partially closed off the road; we easily found a route around and sped back to the campsite with earnest glances over our shoulders to check we weren’t being followed.

Kenya Photo Tour

Spotted Barbet, just outside our tent at Lake Baringo
Bizare Palm Trees
Vervet Monkey, thirst, but luckily didn't have access to our cold beer
Elephant, moving to water in the morning
Flame Tree, in full colour thanks to the unexpected wet weather in Samburu
Impala, posing for the cameras in Samburu
Tusker, perfect after a long hot and dusty day, although seem to make Yvette smile

Samosas, invented by the Indians, exported by the British, perfected by the Kenyans