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.

Ticking on by

Time goes slowly in the Van, Steve hasn’t yet ventured outside to bivy yet and so the van still feels a little cramped at night. The weather is sporadic, no sooner are you in your t-shirt then the wind makes you put your sweater back on. We seem to get two good days of climbing, then a rest day then it either rains or snows. We woke up the other day psyched for a day on rock to find everything covered in snow and the stuff still pouring from the sky. But things dry quickly and we are normally back climbing the next day.The Belgium's trying to top out a highball, the next day one broke their ankle trying it.
Easter brought the hordes to Albarracin, but the relentless rain soon drove most away, they creep back when it gets a bit sunnier, but not in the droves we were predicted. In Albarracin Easter is bit of a festival and they march their statues of various Saints and the guy on the cross through the streets with a group of drummers dressed in bright purple cassocks. We took this opportunity to get something to eat. Everything is Tapas based, unless of course you can understand the menus, I’ve only got as far as Bocodillos on that one. And everything Tapas based will have both a bit of pig and Olive oil in it. Even if its stewed beef in Olive oil, it will still have some bacon in it. Or mushrooms and beans in Olive oil, you can be guaranteed some bacon. But trying all the little dishes over a cold beer for an hour wasn’t a bad way to spend the evening and then finished off with chocolate cake.
The Snow Arrives
The climbing is still going well and the strenuous nature of the many roofs and overhangs is leaving us very sore the next day and always in need of more rest. We’ve found some amazing lines and got stuck into a couple of 8A projects which will hopefully be done this trip. Sometimes the climbing can be frustrating as we have the assistance of probably the worst guidebook ever produced. ‘Bouldertopo Espana’ by the Roker brothers must be the most poorly researched guide of all times. While there topo and directions are pretty good and you can always find the boulder whether they have given the boulder the right grade, name of both is very rare. Often they just give a 6/7? For the grade, what does that mean? The locals have great fun writing in the correct grades and names for us. It’s a shame that there isn’t another guide available otherwise this one would go straight in the bin.
Me Climbing Well on a 7B
Hopefully the rain will hold off so we can get a second day of climbing and it was be even more amazing if it was sunny on a rest day so we could actually wash and dry some clothes.

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.