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.

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.

Cuenca and the Med

Albarracin came to an end with shattered tips, Steve sent to amazing lines to finish off his last days. I pulled as hard as I could to nearly get my project, but was only able to tickle the hold. But we left excited for the next stage of the trip; routes! Our first stop was Cuenca, 2 hours across the mountains this larger version of Albarracin perched on top of a limestone defile is crowded with a gargoyle strewn cathedral, inquisition court and multicoloured medieval buildings and courtyards. We arrived on an over cast day and after the half hour slog uphill to reach the old quarters was not in the mood to take photos. One thing that did put us in a good mood was the routes, 30 metre tower limestone cliffs, mainly slightly overhanging or very overhanging.

We started our mission the next day with the easiest climb in the sector to warm up on a 6c overhanging crack into crimpy headwall to finish. Then the main action a 30 metre gently overhanging 7b+, not a single hard move in it, but constantly throwing you long pulls, crimpy laybacks, slopey rails and plenty of pockets. Steve made it to the 6th bolt before his lack of route fitness showed and then bolt to bolt to the top. I was determined to beat his highpoint, but as I went through the slopers above the roof greased off and had to make do with only making the fifth bolt before going bolt to bolt to the top.
Cuenca
The next day we started on other side of the river with the warm up this time having to be a 6c+. Out main candidate for the day was a seriously overhanging 7b+ on deep pockets. Every pocket was good, with long dynamic moves between, it was incredible climbing, every move flowed, your smeared your feet on small edges and perfectly stabbed your hands from pocket to pocket with a bit of extra psyche for the deep mono just before the end. Steve went for the redpoint but couldn’t find the extra energy for the first crux dyno to a large pocket. I decided to try my fate elsewhere and have a shot at a 15 metre 7b I had tried the day before. The crux moves making up the first three clips and then a pumpy finally on slopers and long reaches of under clings. I fired off the first section fine, jumping out the crux to a huge jug the reaching through the slopey rail. I was getting so pumped, a month of bouldering had done nothing for my stamina. The final move was a torturous reach from a juggy under cling to a two finger pocket. It took me three goes off undercling to reach the pocket, each time climbing down to a slopey rest to try and get enough energy. But in the end I had climbed my first 7B cleanly!

That was the end of our stay at Cuenca, we had wanted to stay for longer, but are skin was still trashed after Albarracin and neither of us liked the idea of pulling on those sharp pockets anymore. An overzealous local official had also spotted are van parked up at night and taken our details and it seemed we would struggle to find somewhere to stay for free in the area. But there is one last bit of Cuenca to pass on, my best Tapas experience in Spain. It was recommended in the lonely planet guide so we headed into the new town to check it out. It was an old, narrow, mahogany lined bar and at 8.30 already bustling with locals, are table was only a foot of the ground. Our first round of drinks came with an aperitif of chicken soup and then a plate of fried eggs, ham, crisps, bread and salad. All on the house (although the drinks are slightly more expensive here). Our first bit of Tapas was Gaspachio Pastor, a game stew with hundreds of complex and different flavours; I can’t really describe it as it’s like nothing I have had before. Almost like a risotto, but with no rice. It wasn’t a bit plate, but we couldn’t have eaten any more. Our second choice was baby squid, they where char grilled and had so much flavour compared to the usual deep fried calamari or frozen options you get in the UK. Unfortunately being skint climber our culinary adventure ended there, but Cuenca is somewhere I will have to go back to.
Orpesa del Mer
So now we’ve given the climbing a break for a few days, to let the skin recover and muscle relax. We’ve found a beach north of Valencia called Oposa, which by Spanish Mediterranean standards is fairly undeveloped. There is even a forest covered hill which they haven’t been high rise flats on. Our van is parked up by the sea and we are just doing nothing.