Team Cham shreading the gnar like no one else

Then I went to El Chorro for two weeks. It’s somewhere I have never been before, and I was pleasantly surprised at how much I enjoyed it. We visited this awesome crag called Loja a lot – it isn’t polished at all, not busy, and has some amazing routes.

We also risked our lives acessing the routes in El Chorro gorge via the famous El Caminito Del Ray. Basically, this is a walkway that runs along the inside of the gorge about 100 metres up. I doubt the walkway was that safe to begin with, but after over 100 years of concrete cancer, the whole thing is a bit of a joke. But, it does add some spice to a day’s sport climbing, with much fun spent mocking the sketchy ‘safety’ line, body sized wholes in the concrete and parts of the pathway that had simply fallen into the gorge below. It also cements my admiration in the Spanish mentality of being way too chilled-out to both make a safe walkway and stop people using it once it has clearly fallen way below any vaguely respectable level of safety.

As for climbing… well having spent the Autumn climbing granite cracks and boulders, then having almost a whole month of rest over Christmas, I knew I wouldn’t be in the best sport climbing shape.  I found that my strength wasn’t too bad, but I just didn’t seem to be able to recover, even on MASSIVE jugs. I would shake out and shake out, but get nothing back.

But, on the last day, it seemed like my body was starting to work properly again and I managed to recover in the knee bars of this really cool 40m route called El Oraculo at Makinodromo. They book says 8b, but the folk say 8a+. From my poor knowledge of this grade, I would say its 8a+, I definitely found it easier than Les Chacals (Rodellar). But, I was mainly pleased to have been able to recover on the jugs, even if I did have to wait until my last day.

Harold risking life and limb

So sketch

I’m at home for Christmas, then I’m off to Europe to try and get sport climbing fit again (after all the cracks and bouldering).

2011 has been a jammed packed year. It began with writing my dissertation, (the content of which has since left my mind), a spring full of exams, then after graduating – Newfoundland kick started my life as a full time climber, which ironically gave me more of an insight into the life of a full-time traveler, since we didn’t do much climbing.  In the 6 months since then I’ve been sport climbing, trad climbing and bouldering in Europe and North America. Highlights were definitely climbing Once Upon a Time in the Southwest, El Cap and for some reason Ceuse was a really special as well (perhaps because this was my first proper trip after graduating). I’ve spent a lot of time with a lot of good friends,climbing on good rock… all in all I can’t really complain!

This year, however, was also the year a good friend Woody died in a climbing accident in Pembroke. I didn’t have a blog then, and I probably wouldn’t have mentioned it anyway. But for some reason it seems like I would like to now. I’m obviously sad that a friend died, and perhaps even more sad for those that were closer to him than I was. But my memories of Woody help me to realise how special life is. He lived his years on this planet with full force, no holding back, always with a smile and a mischievous grin. I look forward to 2012, with this in mind!

Beth Rodden on Book of Hate

After a few days rest I went up to this route with climbing legends Irish/Spanish/Belgian Sean Villanueva O’Driscoll and fellow Brit James Mcaffe.

This is the most amazing corner ever. 35 metres of perfect open book corner climbing – bridging or chimmneying – pick your tactics for battle!

We were under the impression it was 5.13a, but all internet sources say 5.13d, which is hard! I don’t really know what grade it would get, I guess it’s hard to grade this kind of thing.

Sean, pretty wasted after tearing the valley to pieces for a month, narrowly missed getting the route, but still stubbornly going for it in the blazing heat of midday sun; no one can blame him for not trying! Caff, chimney master, chimneyed his way to glory on his third attempt. Being a terrible chimneyer myself, but pretty flexible, I chose to bridge (stem) the whole thing. Stamina bridging is a crazy affair, and I really had to try at the top, also getting it on my third proper attempt.

Anyway, this route is bloody AMAZING, all I can say really.

Sean stemming for his life

Freeing El Cap is something most climbers want to do when they get to a certain level. Everything about the wall, it’s beauty, history, height and the hard nature of the climbing make freeing el cap the ultimate goal for a good climber.

Lynn Hill’s groundbreaking first ascent of the nose seems to make freeing El Cap even more special for a women, or at least it did for me, since that feat not only broke female climbing history but climbing history in general.

I knew I wanted to come to Yosemite, and I knew I wanted to climb a free route on El Cap. For a long time I didn’t have a partner or a route in mind. I didn’t really want to try Freerider, the usual first route for most climbers wanting to free El Cap, I had seen pictures of Golden Gate and for some reason I was drawn to that route.

A friend of mine, Hansjorg was also keen to try Golden Gate and so it was in Rodellar that Hans and myself hatched a plan to climb Golden Gate together in October. But I had never climbed a big wall, never hauled, never slept on a portaledge, never known how much water you need for 4 days of climbing. So I knew that completing the route free, on my first attempt at big walling might be too much to ask.

Moreover, the more I learnt about the route, the more it sounded like an unfriendly route for a girl. The 12c down climb is described as very reachy and the ‘Move’ Pitch is a 12a pitch with a 5.13 span from an undercut to a side pull. Every time I told someone that I had Golden Gate in mind, I could see scepticism in their eyes. But with a little persuasion from Hans and some fellow brits, I decided that it would be best to just see for myself and if I failed to free climb the route, so what, I would learn so much in the process.

Hansjorg arrived and before he got the chance to climb anything at all, we had packed for the wall. We hauled to heart ledges on the first day. As I sat on the belay with the protraction turning it this way and that, trying to work out which way up it went, I became increasingly worried that I was too incompetent to be Han’s partner for a route like this. I managed to haul the pitch, but only just; it had taken everything for me to get the bag up one pitch. I looked up the wall, at all 38 pitches of steep granite above me and decided that it was silly to be worried about freeing the route, surely I should only be concentrating on getting to the top in one piece!

We set off on the Freeblast just as light was hitting the wall and we got to our haul bags in not much time at all. The first little bit of confidence was starting to creep in. We climbed and hauled to beneath the ear and put up the portaledge. The day was hot, long and hard, but we had done 19 pitches and although this was good to know, I knew that in the morning Hans and I would have to face what we most feared: the Monster Offwidth.

Hans had said he wanted to lead it, his reasoning being that he would fight harder on lead. Although it would have been nicer to lead, I didn’t really care, I knew I would be fighting either way. So Hans set off and he was doing really well, making a lot of progress, but clearly giving it his all. Then, a few metres from the top, he slipped out. Exhausted he got back on and went to the top. Next it was my turn and I was shocked at how nervous I was. I did the big move into the crack, which was something I was worried I couldn’t do. The first half went well, and I began to feel increasingly cocky about doing the pitch. Then for some reason it became harder and harder. Scraping my feet around to find a good heel toe and jamming my head against my hand in the crack, I found myself doing everything I could to stay in.

I got to the top to find Hans at the belay equally exhausted. I asked if he wanted to go again, and he shook his head. With barely any skin left on his ankles, knees and elbows I knew that he had given everything and didn’t have anything left to go again. But he took this with great acceptance, which looking back on is something I really admire, and with this acceptance we turned our attention to the next pitches.

That day we made it to the down climb, still hot in the evening sun. This pitch had a huge question mark over it in my mind. The word ‘reachy’ seemed to shine out on the page of our topo every time I looked at it. Hans went first and to my disappointment agreed that it was reachy. My first try was in the hot sun and just by looking at how far apart the holds were I decided that Han’s beta would not work for me. But later in the evening when things had cooled off, I tried the move again and surprised myself by how close I got to doing it. This could actually be possible for us and hope started to creep in. Whats more is that after all the ‘easier’ but burlier pitches below, working out these technical slab moves was such fun in comparison. There we were 20 plus pitches up attempting a wild foot hand match to a downwards mantel.

The morning arrived and in the cool shade we felt even more hopeful that we would do it. We both got it really quickly and weirdly enough we had done it almost exactly the same way. Although we cheered at our success, just as quickly my thoughts turned to the dreaded ‘Move’ pitch a couple of hundred feet up. Half of me was full of hope: if the down climb is possible for me, maybe the Move is too. But as we got closer, the inevitability of it dawned on me. Luca, our Slovenian friend was above us trying the move and shouting down that he was too short to do the move. He had freed everything so far and was clearly pissed off about having to jump to a certain two finger pocket instead of simply reaching. Being quite a lot shorter and most probably weaker than Luca, I scolded myself at being so naive as to think that I could do it.

Hans went up and impressively got it second try. But Hansjorg is pretty long, and strong so this did not console me in the slightest. I went up, did the lower 12a section and reached the undercut from which you do the ‘Move’. I looked up at the next hold and knew that the distance between them was longer than my body length. But in the flow of the climbing I saw an unchecked vague sloper in between the two holds. I could only hold it with my right and if I got my left foot really high. This combined with the fact that I could not match the sloper meant that my body was forced to do a huge cross over with my left hand to the side pull, taking it as a gaston instead. Knowing that the next hold was up and left and I was wrong handed, I fell off exasperated and disappointed. I played on the move for a while, trying all sorts of different things. Jumping didn’t work because the hold was side pull. I tried holding all the other features in the rock, willing myself to be able to hold them, but couldn’t.

My brain strained trying to think of how I could do it… there must be a way. After trying everything I could think of, I knew that the closest I had got was on my first attempt; the crazy cross over. So all I had to do was work out how to get my right hand on the hold instead of my left. It sort of dawned on me that I would have to match this horrible gaston and make it a side pull, but with no feet out right I wondered whether I would be strong enough. After a few attempts I had got to the point where, with my left hand crossed over, I could kick my right foot up, just on smears in a back-contorting position that would eventually enable me to match the hold. Once I done the foot movements, it was easy to reach the pocket, but completely stretched in a totally off-balance position the foot movements felt crazy hard. As I swung around with a thousand feet of air beneath me I though to myself that if this were a boulder problem on the ground I would be really pleased to do it. But, I had done the move, so theoretically I could do the pitch. By this time the sun had arrived in full force and my skin was thinning by the second. I came down and asked Hansjorg if he wouldn’t mind waiting for the morning shade.

The next day I woke up, really nervous. I knew I could do it, but I felt tired and achey and my back was stiff from trying the move yesterday. I got to the bottom of the pitch and just before I set off, I heard a succession of congratulatory cheering from around the corner to the left; clearly some people were dispatching the crux pitch of free rider (which turned out to be some of our friends). After 4 cheers, I thought, come on Hazel, they are sending, now you have to too. I felt really shaky on the start with no warm up. I also felt the momentousness of the pitch. I realised that if I didn’t get it this morning, with only a certain amount of food and water, we would be forced to move on, leaving a free ascent impossible. I pulled into the move, crossed over and started the tenuous hopping of my right foot up the smears in to a position that would enable me to match. Trying my best to trust my right foot, I came in to the match and reached across. I was into the pocket! With a few more hard, pumpy moves to go I prayed that I could compose myself enough to do them. With Hans, Luca, Nastia and the french team cheering from above I reached the finishing jugs, really relieved.

Me on the Move Pitch

I know I have described this ‘Move’, (or 4 moves in my case) in a lot of detail, but for me this was the crux of the route and I have never done a move like it, and probably never will again. In all those hundreds of feet of climb, this 10 foot piece of golden pocketed rock, had forced me do a move I would not of thought would be possible for me. Even though grade wise this pitch is way below what I have done before, that move combined with the fact that we were 3 hard days in to a big wall attempt, probably makes Golden Gate the hardest thing I ever climbed. I guess this goes to show, that grades really are arbitrary, with your experience of the climb the thing that really matters. For Hans this pitch was nothing, and the monster offwidth everything, Golden Gate for us, would be a very different route.

I suppose it also shows that having to do things differently to other people is not a bad thing, but instead something to appreciate. Admittedly, had I not done the move, I would have been angry that one move had prevented me from freeing El Cap. But given that I worked out how to do combined with the fact that it was still really hard for me, is kind of the perfect scenario: the ascent would have been boring if it had been easy.

On to the next pitch Han’s had to reface his nemisis: another offwidth named the Chicken Wing chimney, which he bravely lay backed. A few more pitches took us to the Tower of the People where Luca, Nastia and some french teams were resting in their ledges. Pleased to have done the the move pitch and to see some friendly faces, I enjoyed hanging out with them under their tarpaulin, sharing our experiences of the route so far.

We watched a few French guys try the next pitch the 5.13a Golden Desert and it looked amazing. A boulder problem led into a perfect thin lay back, traversing through some roofs at the top. Hans tried and with some initial difficulty working out the boulder problem he continued to cruz to the top. I managed to flash this pitch and as I lowered down I marvelled at how beautiful the climbing was; on the ground this pitch would be a 5 star classic.

We slept in our ledge that night and depending on whether we could do the A5 traverse, the last hard pitch, this would be our last night on the wall.

The next morning Hans impressively onsighted the 5.31a A5 traverse with no warm up. Although he proclaimed it easy I was feeling pretty doubtful, 4 days on the wall had caught up with me and a pumpy traverse on slopers with no feet was not my style. I gave it a bash and fell pretty early on. Panic was creeping in. I knew Hans wanted to finish the route today and I knew that I had only an hour or so before the sun came on to the wall. I had a hurried rest and tried again. The next time I gave it my all but my foot popped off a heel hook a metre from the belay. A little heartbroken I almost lost my composure. I had been so excited to do the Move pitch and now it seemed like a free ascent was slipping away. Hansjorg remained super chilled and this helped me to realise that this was just a short traverse, just rest and try it again.

On my last go, knowing the moves better I climbed quickly to make up for my fatigue and arrived at the belay very relieved. With only 4 more easier pitches to go, I knew I would free climb El Cap.

Tommy on the A5 traverse

Some amazing, steep razor thin 5.11 flakes lead to the last pitch. These were the glory finishing pitches I was looking forward to. Unfortunately the very last pitch is a run-out, circuitous  5.11 that left me puzzled as to where to go. Exhausted both physically and mentally, with the most horrific rope drag, I ungracefully clawed my way up the final slabs in a style that was far from the glorious top out I had imagined. When Hans arrived at the top, we had a brief celebration, but the work was not over. After getting the haul bag stuck and ropes knotted, I realised that I would not really be celebrating until we reached camp 4.

We got to the hire car and at around 5pm, almost 5 days after we saw it last. I thought back to my mind frame on that morning; groggy, apprehensive but psyched, it seemed like such a long time ago. We chatted about how weird it was to be down and how nice it would be to have a shower. Hansjorg was a great partner for the wall and I really appreciatehim going up there with me, despite my lack of big walling experience. Freeing El Cap was once of my most enjoyable climbing experiences and also the most challenging. Although, for now I’m psyched to go bouldering and single pitch climbing I know I’ll be back on El Cap at some point.

And this is what Hansjorg has to say if you are interested – a little briefer and more to the point! http://hansjoerg-auer.at/golden-gate/

pretty walls and rivers

But Rodellar is also ridiculously steep. I don’t think I’ve ever climbed on rock this steep. All the different caves that overhang by half their length on both sides of a canyon, give the place the feel of a jungle gym, with the spanish jabbering away like monkeys.

In some ways, I dislike a lot of the routes in Rodellar. Rock this steep on holds and tufas this big make you feel like you’re not climbing, but wrestling a gorilla. Or as my friend Rupert says: you feel like you’re trying to get pajamas on a gorilla, tiny pyjamas on a very big, angry gorilla, who doesn’t want to go to bed. The other comparison we made was between the holds of Rodellar and the blubber of a whale. I thought that the jugs were not like holding jugs, but instead like holding the inside of a whale you had just cut open.

These comparisons aside, Rodellar is not all wrestling gorillas and hanging onto whale blubber. There are less steep cliffs and when it cools off a bit, the holds begin to feel more like jugs and less like blubber.

I found a cliff that was a little less steep than horizontal and found a route on it that had some lovely small in-cut holds instead of whale blubber holds. The crag is called Pared de la Virgen and the route Les Chacals. Most people (yes I checked on 8a.nu) think it’s 8b and a few think it’s 8a+. Unsurprisingly, I’m going to go with 8b, if it’s 8b to Adam Ondra, Sasha Diguilan, Neil Mawson, Chris Savage, Dave Graham and Ethan Pringle (among others), then its certainly 8b to me.

I did the crux moves on my first try, but worried about my lack of fitness I was concerned that I would fall off higher up. Having watched Dave use a rest out right after the crux, and then finding myself unable to get to it (a big move to an undercut) I was a little annoyed. But Chris suggested that I could use this to my advantage; as long as I looked at the rest as I climb past it, then my anger would motivate the drive to carry on. This seemed to do the trick and I got it 4th try. Grades and ‘I’m short’ moaning aside, I guess its the hardest sport route I’ve done.

Daila Ojeda looking much stronger and a lot more glamourous, models the crux moves (Maria Torres photo, pinched from 8a.nu)

I did an 8b in Turkey, but it was probably soft. It was also an 8a+ to a boulder problem and the boulder problem is easy if you have a small, strong ring finger, which I have, so in my mind it doesn’t really count.

It’s funny though; even though this was my hardest redpoint, after a few hours I’d decided that it wasn’t very hard and didn’t feel very proud of myself. The route took me 4 tries, so obviously if I really projected a sport route I could climb harder, but it was more than that. That evening my friend Chris Savage, very experienced in the art of hard sport climbing, said the same thing; that every time he clips the chains on a hard sport route, the first thing he thinks is ‘I can climb harder’.

And I think that this is maybe why I prefer trad to sport climbing. When I get to the top of a hard trad redpoint or onsight, I never think ‘I can climb harder’, I usually think ‘that was a really cool route, I’m really glad to have had a battle with that one’. Hard trad routes, looking back, seem like friends, that I learn to know and remember for a long time afterwards. After I’ve done a sport route, I usually care more about the grade or what a route says about how well, or badly I’m climbing. In other words, the actual route and the enjoyment of climbing it, gets lost after I’ve done it. Don’t get me wrong, I really loved the climbing on Les Chacals and I was psyched to complete it, it’s just that as soon as I did it, it felt easy, even worthless and all I could think of was how much harder I could and should be climbing.

Apart from the climbing in Rodellar, I really enjoyed being around a lot of good friends, who for some reason or another were out here in high numbers.

Jen came down and we joined team Austria on the classic Fiesta De Los Biceps, Riglos. That is as fun a route as any, I think the picture says it all.

Jen on the first of many steeper pitches, Fiesta De Los Biceps

A fun ‘active rest day’ activity is to go canyoning. Myself and Mr Pickford, a little late in the day ventured out with wetsuits into some canyons and followed it down. At the start, when the water came barely above our ankles, we felt silly for having the wet suit. But after doing some swimming through deep pools and high walled canyons, we were thankful to have them.

Dave Pickford, a fine example of an extreme canyoner

I’m back in Bristol now packing for Yosemite in a week’s time – bring on the cracks!

Climbing at Cascade

I was upset about not being able to climb on the Grand Cap – it looks amazing – but I was very happy about being back in Ceuse. On my last day of my previous trip to Ceuse I tried Femme Blanch (8a+), and had written in my diary ‘must finish’, always one to try and follow up on my own commands, I was psyched to be back.

It’s a really cool route, with a bouldery start, pumpy middle section and prolonged, run out slabby section to finish. I thought I would get in second try, but it actually took me quite a few goes… I had an unusual excuse the first time: a wasp stung me in between my toes and apparently puffed up and painful feet are not great for slab climbing.

On my next try I ran out of light and unable to see my feet, I messed up my sequence, ended up wrong handed and unable to clip the bolt. I tried to create a new sequence utilising a ticked foot hold. This did anything but work and I fell with the unclipped clip at chest level. I’d asked my mate Amit, to give me as soft a catch as possible, this combined with the runout meant that I clocked up a fair few air miles. More pissed off than anything at having fallen off again I did not appreciate the air time, but I think it could have been one of those falls where you have to take multiple breaths.

Even though the next day was my 4th day on it was also my last at Ceuse. With a deflated foot, a little more day light and better concentration on my behalf, it felt easy, and I left Ceuse the next day feeling happy to leave.

Femme Blanche 8a+ Alex Haselhurst Photo

I really enjoyed Femme Blanche, even though it took me a few more tries than I wanted it to. The climbing is really good and I really enjoyed working out the sequences between the bolts. After a little thought, I think this is why I like run out sport climbing; you can onsight climb even when you’re red pointing, since the only way to rehearse the moves properly is to top rope, and that’s no fun.

I have visited Chamonix only once before in my life, with my Dad and Brother when I was really young. Every summer we would go on holidays to the South of France to swim in the rapids, climb limestone and drink cold coke. But one summer, for some reason we stopped in Cham for a day. All I remember was proper heavy rain and being scared of the men with guns on the Swiss border. This time there were certainly no men with guns on the border, but unfortunately still a little rain.

Climbing on the Petit Clocher reminded me of how much I enjoy granite climbing and also that my granite skills are a little under practiced at the moment. I’ve found in the past that after climbing on granite for a little while, you find a certain flow to it. I’ve been in Chamonix for about 10 days now and although I’ve not climbed on the granite as much as I would have liked, I’m starting to feel that flow coming back.

A good friend from Canada, Jen Olson, is based in Chamonix for the summer working as a mountain guide. Whilst in Canada Jen has always been the perfect host, hooking me up when she can and sharing some fun days climbing together – probably most memorably in the Bugaboos. So when she invited me to come climb and stay with her again, this time in Cham, I hurriedly agreed.

The weather hasn’t been entirely cooperative, but here are some pictures from a the few days we had on the South Face of the
Aiguille du Midi.

Jen following the 7b crux pitch of Super Dupont

The rock is so beautiful on the south face of the midi, we couldn’t help but smile the whole way up the classic ‘Super Dupont’.

An Unusual Audience

Mountaineers or Lemmings?

The Alps is a crowded place to say the least and the consequences of this can make climbing here feel a little odd. For instance, you could be climbing on beautiful alpine granite at 3800 metres, breathing hard because of the altitude, cold hands, placing cams in perfect cracks… and then, punctuating this soulful experience, what do you hear? None other than a bunch of very excitable tourists, most likely from Tokyo or somewhere similar shouting wildly at you from a metal bubble moving through the air, a mere 20 metres from where you’re climbing. Or you’ll top out of a route and instead of hearing the silence you usually associate with being in the mountains you hear a french lady’s voice over a loud speaker announcing the time of the next lift to Chamonix mingled in with the sound of a drill and a generator. It reminds me a lot of Yosemite Valley; the tourists sat on the bus gawking at the climbers, but in some ways, it feels more absurd in the Alps. You’re in the mountains but you took a lift there, just like you would take an escalator up to the 30th floor of an office block in the city. After paying through the teeth to be herded into a metal bin and dragged up the mountain side, it’s anything but hard to feel the overwelming human presence in an environment most climbers value for having the opposite.

All that aside, I feel the best way to deal with the absurdity of the situation, is to humour it. On the top of the midi, Jen and I made jokes about escaping the rat race, silent mountain tops, isolation, being at one with nature etc, whilst we fought to hear ourselves over the noise of drilling and Wang the Asian tourist shouting at us from the ‘observation deck’. As long as you can laugh at the absurdity of it all, appreciate the fact that, if the lifts weren’t there, you’d have a two day, up-hill walk from the valley floor instead, and the fact that rock doesn’t really get much better, you’ll have a good day.

The route is called ‘Ave Ceasar’ and it was put up by Didier Berthod. It’s on this really cool piece of rock called the Petit Clocher du Portalet. It has 2 pitches of 7c and a 7b+ with a sprinkling of 6c. The route was amazing, the rock perfect and the cracks painful. We gave it out best effort, but we failed to do the 7c pitches clean due to lack of: correctly sized cams, pain tolerance, ability to locate obvious jugs, ring lock for 40 metres, fitness, time, and the requisite granite skills.

Steve and The Petit Clocher

The first 7c is a super sharp finger crack that peters out into half pad laybacking – or if your sensible enough you bust out right to a jug. The other 7c is a 20 metre pitch of ring locking, OK for 10 metres but gets pretty tiresome after 15. Our failings aside, it was a brilliant route and I would love to go back. I would also be quite interested to know about any one else trying it/freeing it… And there appears to be an amazing looking 80 metre-long finger size(ish) crack to the right that is meant to go at around 8a. So much to do!

me on the 7c finger crack pitch Steve Monks photo

The first of the many ring locks. Steve Monks photo