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Top Ropes and Tick Marks: Once Upon a Time in the Southwest (E9 6c)
28 June 2011, 5:12 pm

Back in my Dad’s day (according to my Dad) head/redpoint tactics such as toproping, practising, tick marking, mock leading were for those climbers who were too rubbish to onsight or at least go ground up after a few tries. ‘Headpointing’ and ‘cheating’ for him and his friends were practically synonymous. Probably because anyone can do a route in 20 tries… right?

Up until a few years ago, I was almost always an onsight climber and I shared a similar perspective to my Dad.

But now I’ve crossed to the darkside and I see their value. Whether it’s a sport route, a boulder problem or E9, redpoint stress is well, very stressful. Mainly because of the self-doubt that creeps in, when you ask yourself whether you can actually do it; maybe you were just deluding yourself the whole time; perhaps you’re not good enough a climber after all. Even when you really believe you can do it – there’s still the time or money constraints, weather, skin, friends, fitness, injuries etc.

And that’s coming from me, who has spent at most about 5 days working a route. Hardly stressful compared to Scott Burk’s 261 days working the Nose. You’d pretty upset to find at day 240 that you’re actually shit at climbing, or you don’t have the time or money to come back. Or Leo’s 10-year stint on the prophet, the pressure of doing it the day before he flies home.

Sounds rubbish? Not really. When climbing is mostly about setting arbitrary challenges for yourself, you may as well go big and find a project.

Dave Birkett on the first ascent of once.. Alex Eves photo, stolen from UKC So a week after finishing uni, as weak as a kitten, Charlie asks me if I want to go down and try D. Birket’s ‘Once Upon a Time in the Southwest’. Even though I’d tried it a month before with Neil Mawson and worked out how to do the crux, I was a little reluctant to give up the plan of going to Pembroke to get some mileage in, start getting some fitness back and generally have fun in the sun after such a horrible time revising for exams. Onsighting perfect routes above the sea with good friends? Sounds like heaven. But instead I go down to Devon to try one route with only a few days left before leaving the country. To stew in Charlie’s van, in the rain and in my own self-doubt: the routes too hard, the rain wont stop, the holds are snapping off, if one more goes it could be over, too hard for Hazel.. etc.

Me on the start of Once.. A classic 'safety first, probably got a rollie in the other hand' Steve Findlay shot. Before I racked up for the route I had one of those ‘moments’. I looked behind me and there was a family just beyond the shade line, enjoying time spent by the sea tanning and watching this silly girl drag herself up a rock. Why couldn’t I come to Devon and just enjoy Devon? Why couldn’t I be content with the sea and the sand, the pubs and the quaint little villages?

A little cold and a little too keen, I suffered from some disco leg at the start, but after the first crux I eased into it and it started to become apparent that I wouldn’t fall off and I would love it. At the top of that wall, thoughts of fun relaxing times in Pembroke seemed too easy and too boring. Of course the days stewing in the van were worth it for this. In the words of Si Wilson: I was ‘buzzing’… even more than I was after passing my driving test. I pulled over the top, wind whistling past me, loose dirt blowing in my eyes and I was psyched, psyched out my tree and a little sad that it was over, that I was standing at the top and not alone on that face crimping for dear life, onto those holds that I had come to know so intimately (and sorely miss those that had fallen). My 30 minutes buzzing for 4 days of stressing.

Even more pysched than me was my Dad who belayed me. So I guess my headpoint/cheating has to be worth something, even to an old-school, no-chalk using, onsighter like himself… runway tick marks and all.



Source: hazelfindlay » Hazel Findlay blog

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Newfoundland
25 July 2011, 1:57 pm

Although I was glad to have done Once I was a little worried that I was ridiculously unfit having not climbed at all for a month over exams and not properly for a few more before that. Then having finished, only done one route; a slab.

A day at Cheddar struggling to get half way up 7b+s and a few days in Pembroke struggling to hang on to E5s certainly confirmed these worries. Newfoundland was to be a North Face-organised trip with Alex Honnold, James Pearson and Mark Synnot plus camera crew, routes of steep granite up to 14 pitches long… no worries right? After all 7b+’s at cheddar are no joke…

As chance would have it I wouldn’t need to be particularly fit for Newfoundland and neither would I get any fitter, since we spent most of it in a tent. It rained and it rained and it rained. 10 days we camped under the wall and of those days we climbed three, and of those days, only one was actually a ‘nice’ day.

But, it was a good trip anyway. A real adventure: with lots of driving, sailing, camping and getting to know nice people. This route took 4 days

Highlights included meeting the Newfies. Newfies are a rare breed of people, with a rare accent. You’d be hard pressed to even call it an accent considering it isn’t particularly clear that they are speaking English at all. The best description we could come up with was of an Irish man with a mouth full of marbles. George Fudge, our boat-man and host in the little town of Francois was certainly one on his own in terms of incomprehensibility. At best you could discern key words like FFFAAAAAAGGGGGGG (fog), which sounded a little bit like Brad Pitt’s ‘dags’, (“you like dags?”) in Snatch. Negotiating our early pick up from the cliff was challenging to say the least.

Other highlights were feeling like you were in Pocahontas discovering the ‘new world’. The landscape is beautiful but barren.  Even in it’s most populated areas Newfoundland is basically empty compared to the UK (we saw about two cars on our way to Burgeo), so sailing to one of the most remote villages of Francois was quite the cultural experience.

Climbing highlights? Summiting the mountain was pretty special. Mark and I climbed Leviathan a stunning 5.12 that keeps you interested even on the easy pitches. And Alex and James finished an incomplete line to the left. We had initially wanted to put up some new routes on the wall but since the wall was either wet or getting rained on for the rest of our time there, we didn’t get the chance.

Hazel on Lost at Sea Mark Synnot Photo Lowlights? The fog. Rain and wind can stop you from climbing but fog can stop you from doing almost everything. Most mornings we couldn’t even see each other’s tents let alone go on long hikes. We also had a pretty rough storm one night with very high winds ripping through the camp. Mark’s tent was close to being completely destroyed and mine would have definitely blown away had i not been in it. After almost a week of fog and/or rain, motivation for life was wearing thin. By day 10 our love for the dome tent was running as low as the beer supply and we were ready to leave “the grimmest place on earth” – harsh words from Alex… it wasn’t that bad.

But the boat journey back to Francois was that bad. Judging from the shades of green we turned on that hour-long journey all of us (except from Mark) were clearly wanting of sea legs. Games of ‘fake vomiting’ played by the camera crew in attempt to set the rest of us off left a particularly bad taste in my mouth. The only thing that kept me going was the comforting fact that Alex looked far greener than I felt.



Source: hazelfindlay » Hazel Findlay blog

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Maine Maniac
30 July 2011, 2:12 pm

After leaving James to fend for himself in the hopping town of Deer Lake (rumour has it he had to wait 3 days for a flight back to France), the rest of us made the 4 day mission back to the land of freedom and SUVs. With a week left before Alex and I had to fly home, we went to Maine to check out some of the sea cliffs there.

First up was a little sea cliff called Quoddy Head. We had heard rumours of an nails hard, unrepeated 5.13d called Maniac. It was put up in the early 1980s by a man known as ‘Spiderman Dan’ and if it really did turn out to be this grade it would have been one of the hardest routes (if not the hardest) in the country when it was put up.

Quoddy Head is the most eastern point of the USA and also it seems… the most foggy. Trying hard to ignore painful flashbacks from our 10 day stint in the thick fog of Devil’s Bay, we made our way to the illusive Maniac.

Dan Goodwin on the first ascent of Maniac. From Dan Goodwin's website www.skyscraperdefense.com We were surprised the route hadn’t seen a repeat since the wall is really coo looking. A clean face with yellow and black streaks up it. The first half is trad and the second half is sport and it climbs a lot like a steep slate route but with rougher rock. Nice crimps that face the wrong way with intricate foot movements. Having climbed 3 routes since I left home I was even more unfit (if that’s possible) than I was before Newfoundland. But this route was really cool and I wanted to do it.

Alex polished it off on the second day (but not as easily as you would have thought). I gave it a top rope try that day to warm up and was unable to link more than 4 moves together. I looked down and told the guys it would be ‘an absolute miracle if I did the route’.

Either our religious member of the team had a little word with the big man upstairs, or I pulled something out the bag, either way I got it on the third day and was psyched, not out my tree, but pretty damn psyched.

Although its the sort of climbing I’m good at – crimpy wall climbing – the hardest part for me was not getting too pumped and since I have almost no forearm stamina to speak of at the moment I found it difficult to grade. Alex seemed to think it was 5.13c/d or 8a+/b. That was.. until I did it and then he probably thought is was 5.10! Jokes aside, we didn’t find it easy, so it was a good effort for Dan to have done it back in the day and we were happy to confirm the grade for him, as hard.

The other area there is a place called Great Head.It’s another sea cliff with nice rock. It doesn’t have that many routes but worth a visit if you’re in the area. Alex completed a project and almost ticked the crag. I, on the other hand had a few pathetic attempts at some of the routes and feeling a lot like a wet flannel, realised I would just have to be content with taking Maniac from Maine and call it good.



Source: hazelfindlay » Hazel Findlay blog

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Ceuse
29 August 2011, 7:54 am



After Maine, and a few days at home, I got the word that Bristol-based loud-mouth Ollie Benzie was driving down to Ceuse and after not climbing as much as I wanted to in Newfoundland I was really keen to touch as much rock as possible. There seemed like no good reason not to stop off in Ceuse for a few days before moving on to Chamonix. For one reason or another a few days turned in to two weeks. In those two weeks I turned from a very unfit climber to a not so unfit climber. On day one I failed to onsight the warm up (7a+), by day seven I managed to onsight 7c+. Perhaps it was because I started off with such low fitness, or perhaps it’s the nature of the place, either way it was nice to see progression in 7 days. And in those two weeks, Ceuse also became my favourite place to sport climb.

The two things I’d heard about Ceuse before going were that ‘the easier grades are harder’ and ‘when it rains it doesn’t matter because things stay dry’. Both those things are quite far from being true; 6a at Ceuse is still easier than 7a (along with everywhere else) and when it rains, almost everything gets wet. On the assumption that the latter rumour was true we walked up in torrential rain, to learn the hard way, that it wasn’t. We sessioned the only vaguely dry route whilst trying our best to avoid a seepage line and waterfall that narrowly missed all the crucial pockets.

What is true is that the climbing is amazing, there are lots of friendly people (perhaps too many), the walk-in really isn’t very bad (until it gets too hot), the bolting could often be described as spacious and it feels a lot harder than sport climbing in Spain. I think it has become my favourite sport crag because of the style of climbing (got to love the two finger dragging in the pockets) and the run-outs. Usually I get bored of sport climbing after a while, but its hard to get bored when you’re taking 30 footers. Routes that really stand out were Blockage Violent, Femme Noir, Mirage and Little Big Wall. With mileage being the main aim I was reluctant to project something, but I would love to go back next summer and try some harder stuff.



Source: hazelfindlay » Hazel Findlay blog

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Switzerland
30 August 2011, 7:28 pm

It didn’t take long for life at Ceuse to get too hot and too easy… not that sport climbing is easy – it’s very hard – but it’s no stress, friendly, simple, non-committal… time for some alpine climbing. And when I say alpine climbing I mean high up, with as much effort spent on minimising use of spikey metal things. First up was a little two day mission with mountain guide and good friend of my Dad’s Steve Monks. Steve is a Brit, but he’s spent most of the last 20 years living in the sleepy town of Natimuck near Arapiles in winter and Switzerland in summer. When I went to Australia 3 years ago, Steve did the best he could to help us out, the same applied for my visit to Switzerland. Before I arrived he had a route in mind and we wasted no more than a day before getting up there.

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



Source: hazelfindlay » Hazel Findlay blog

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Chamonix
4 September 2011, 8:18 pm



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.



Source: hazelfindlay » Hazel Findlay blog

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Back to Ceuse
22 September 2011, 12:51 pm

I bumped in to DMM reps Alex and Rob in Chamonix and persuaded them that it would be a good idea for me to be a third wheel on a Grand Capucin mission. The next day I packed my stuff to walk in, as I watched torrential rain hammer the windows. It’s OK, it will stop. Well, it didn’t stop and since we had already wasted a few days due to rain, the boys decided they’d had enough. Sometimes climbing full stop, is more important than climbing what you want to climb. So they decided that their best bet was Ceuse, and I decided my best bet was to tag along.

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, 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.



Source: hazelfindlay » Hazel Findlay blog

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Rodellar
26 September 2011, 12:55 pm

Rodellar is first and foremost a very nice place. You really feel like you’re on holiday. Most crags are no more than 10 minutes walk through an idyllic canyon, the Spanish are chilled out, the beer is cheap and weather is not British.

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!



Source: hazelfindlay

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Golden Gate
23 October 2011, 6:07 pm

I freed El Cap. But I also broke my computer, so this has been written quite hurriedly. Even so, it’s really detailed, so skimming could be advisable! I got a little carried away because it was the little details that made climbing this route such an amazing experience for me.



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.

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.





Source: hazelfindlay

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Book of Hate 5.13d… apparently
23 October 2011, 6:22 pm

Beth Rodden (I think) 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 I think.

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.



Source: hazelfindlay

[Jim]

Fucking AWESOME!!!!

[Oldmanmatt]

Ditto Jim.
 

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Book of Hate
23 October 2011, 6:22 pm

Beth Rodden (I think) 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 I think.

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.



Source: hazelfindlay

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Joshua Tree
20 November 2011, 12:24 pm

After Yosemite, Ryan (Pasquill), Ryan (spidie) Mcconnell, Katy (Whittaker), Andy Reeve and myself went to J Tree for a short visit. J tree is undoubtedly a beautiful place, with a crazy desert landscape and strange trees. But if anyone tells you that its a world class climbing destination and/or that it doesn’t rain there, then they’ll be telling porkies. The crags are mostly pretty scrittley, not very high and spread out. The weather reminded us of home… Then again – it’s always hard not to be disappointed in a place following a month in Yosemite. A big highlight was doing Equinox, a classic 12d finger crack. The shots are an attempt to pay homage to Mr Moffatt!

Andy on Equinox - YES! Ryan flashing Equinox... not without a few grrrrrs Me - Sszzzzzzaaaaaa! beautiful mornings



Source: hazelfindlay

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Buttermilks Bouldering
4 December 2011, 12:51 pm

After J-Tree we went to Bishop for three weeks. We mainly climbed at the Buttermilks and set up camp a mile or so above the boulders. The Buttermilks is a beautiful place and the rock is perfect. I struggled with the bouldering, not really being a boulderer, but I learnt a lot… from the rock and from Ryan and Katy. I also struggled with my skin, which is a real issue in Bishop. Your skin definitely thins before the psyche and the muscle power, which is a shame.



Katy Flying on 'Fly Boy' camping in the snow



Source: hazelfindlay

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An end to 2011
20 December 2011, 1:23 pm

After Bishop, I went to Mexico for 5 days, for the North Face global athlete meet. This basically involves all the TNF sponsored athletes (climbers, skiers, snowboarders, runners) getting together for some fun in the sun. There are talks about The North Face, eating, drinking and surfing. We also got to go snorkeling, which turned out to be rather exciting when a party of dolphins and two humpback whales turned up. It was really nice to spend some time with a group of such talented and friendly people… and it was also a nice change from camping in the snow!

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!





Source: hazelfindlay

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Hello 2012
24 January 2012, 11:17 pm

2012 started with a day skiing, which was also my second day on skis ever. I would like to say that I want to learn how to ski ‘to improve my skills in the mountains’, so ‘I can ski into alpine routes in the future’. This is true, but I mainly want to ski because skiing is ridiculously fun, even if I did face plant on numerous occasions. I also enjoyed the steep improvement curve; on day 3 I was actually twice as good as on day 2. After climbing for 16 years, I must have lost my chance of finding improvement curves like that at age 7.

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



Source: hazelfindlay

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First stop: Chamonix
1 March 2012, 11:22 am

I spent three weeks at home, training, seeing friends and family and most importantly, buying a very desirable Citroen Saxo Desire to accompany me on my travels. This being my first car, and having driven very little since passing my test last June, I woke up each day some what apprehensive about getting in her and driving around Bristol. When my friends heard I was driving to France on my own, on the wrong side of the road/car, after only a week’s driving, they were a little concerned. My friend Nina even offered to buy me extra driving lessons after witnessing a certain parking episode. I must admit I was a little nervous myself, but I wanted to go to Spain and I wanted to have a vehicle out there.

First stop was Chamonix and in the end, doing that drive was far easier than any driving I had done around Bristol, just a little bit further. I ended up spending almost two weeks in Chamonix, which was a little longer than I expected, but it was a lot of fun. I upped my time on the slopes from 3 days to 7. The improvement curve wasn’t as remarkable this visit, but I did spend more time challenging myself off piste. A very memorable day was spent skiing into the Argentiere ice falls to do a little ice route with friends Jack and Christian. We also skied the Vallee Blanche – which felt hard for me, but completely worth it. And towards the end of my stay, temperatures grew and I actually got two days of rock climbing in. All in all a  good start to my European adventures.

Me trying to shred, with a pack and a rainbow suit (Jack Geldard photo) Shredding or sinking?(Jack Geldard photo) Bea, far from her Spanish home town Betty Extreme Alpine! Or not? There was talk of an extreme alpine mission, i.e. skiing in to a big winter route. But I found that skiing was way more fun, and not quite so cold. And that really, I am a rock climber, not a crampon kicking axe slinger. Maybe next time.



Source: hazelfindlay

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A week in Provence
1 March 2012, 12:08 pm

As another detour on my way to Spain, myself, Jack, Charlie, Mayan and Dave spent a week in Provence. First we went to St. Leger for a few days, which I thought to be a really cool crag. Coming from Chamonix we were psyched for some sun, but it was actually too hot and ended up climbing in the shade. Saint Leger is perfect for this, being a valley with one side shady and the other sunny.

Then we went to a crag called Lourmarin, which is really cool with unusual rock, but unfortunately we discovered it was banned and went to Buoux instead. I’ve never been to Buoux before, having always thought that it wasn’t really my style. But I actually really enjoyed it. It’s a really beautiful place and I am quite partial to a bit of pocket dragging.

We checked out Venasque after Buox, which provided the perfect counter-style to Buoux. Instead of sharp pocket dragging, we had round jugs on steep terrain. The crag by the road is OK, but luckily we bumped into some locals who showed us a better crag slightly higher up. This crag has a bigger selection of higher quality routes. After warming up we jumped on the classic Mauvaise Limonade 7c+/8a. The route is really good, and I was pleased to flash it, but… half way up I did a rather high heel hook/rock-over and as I shifted my weight on to it, I heard my knee go ‘pop’.

Mayan Smith-Gobat on Mauvaise Limonade 7c+/8a It was pretty sore the day after and difficult to walk on, but it has been getting better day by day. I’ve been in Spain a week now, and it’s on the mend, but I’m still avoiding heel hooking, egyptianing and deep step-throughs. As a climber who has a slight, if not strong affinity for these types of moves, I am struggling quite a bit. But I’m just really thankful that the injury wasn’t so bad and that I can still climb.

Apart from the knee life is good, and a week in Provence was a perfect start to my stint of sport climbing. It feels good to be on the road and the little car is holding up… apart from a little injury of her own, concerning the gear box. Similar to my knee, I hope she will keep ticking along… at least long enough to get me home!



Source: hazelfindlay

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Coaching Weekend 16th – 17th June
15 March 2012, 7:33 am



 

James McHaffie, Jack Geldard and myself are running a coaching weekend on the 16 – 17 June, this year, in North Wales.

If you feel like you want to up your E grade, or you fancy learning some new techniques such as self rescue – come along. Jack and James are both strong trad climbers and trained climbing instructors/guides and I’m not too bad at trad climbing either!

For more details have a look at Jack’s site

http://jackgeldard.com/2012/03/14/coaching-weekend-16-17th-june-2012-north-wales/



Source: hazelfindlay

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Terradets, Oliana and a little ‘Accidente’
1 April 2012, 6:25 pm

After spending a few weeks in Terradets I could feel some fitness seeping back. I say ‘back’ but really I’ve never had a huge base of sport climbing fitness, which, I suppose is why I wanted to go on a sport climbing trip in the first place.

Anyway, Terredets is perfect for getting fit. It’s a long slightly overhanging wall, with a huge supply of 7c – 8a+ to try and onsight or get in a few tries. It’s true that the style of the routes is quite similar, but the routes are really fun, albeit polished. The wall opposite, ‘Regina’ is also really good, and way less polished because of the ‘long’ (30 minutes) walk in.

K Widdy, happy to be in EspagnaThe long approach to Regina feels way easier when you have a dog/horse to carry the quick drawsToo much to choose fromClimbing with Sheffielder’s Neil (Mawson) and Pete and Katy (Whittaker) was really fun, but it was also nice to climb with my friend Jack (Geldard) and rowdy Americans Jesse (Huey) and Maury (Birdwell) after they left. I’m always amazed by how many people I see again and again on my travels, and how nice it is to have so many friends to climb with. I never seem to find myself devoid of partners to sport or trad climb with.

After a slow start due to my knee, I was quite pleased to do a few 8as second try and onsight a bunch of 7c+s, but really what I wanted was a project.

So after picking up American friend Alex (Honnold) at Barcelona, we left for Oliana in search of something hard. I tried China Crisis, an 8b+ there, but found a move I couldn’t do. I would have loved to persevere with a project there, either that one or something different, but it felt very hot and as the wall gets the sun most of the day, it didn’t seem like the best place to get locked down by something hard.  So we ended up climbing quite a bit at Tres Ponts, as its shadier and doing Mon Dieu, an 8a+ at Oliana.

We also missioned to Riglos for the day. I climbed Fiesta De Los Biceps last year, an amazingly steep 7 pitch 7a up a big sandstone conglomerate tower. Alex was keen to onsight solo it, which is what he did… whilst enjoyed my morning tea. Then we simul climbed a random route on the tower next to it. We didn’t have a guide book or know where any of the routes went so I loaded up on quickdraws, picked a random route and climbed as many pitches (all but one) as I could. It was just about easy enough (for me) to simul climb, but we were in the sun and it was hot, and it felt about time to head north.

Alex, up there somewhere, wondering if he'll stick the riverIt’s been fun, having a car and enough friends dotted around to have the freedom to climb whereever I want. But sometimes, I feel like I have too many choices. Oliana felt too hot, so I left, but sometimes it could be better to preserver with a place. It’s a hard life…

Oh yeah – on a separate note – I did the inevitable and crashed my car. I took a corner too fast, a car was coming the other way and I felt too close to it. I probably wasn’t too close, but I over corrected anyway and ended up spinning out of control, hitting the barrier and then careering backwards in to a tree. I was psyched not to spin the other way since I would have ended up flying air born into the bottom of a deep gorge.

I tried the engine, it wouldn’t start and I was convinced that the trip was over, and I was flying back to England without a car. But luckily for me I was traveling with 3 men who knew a little more about cars than me (impossible not to really), and kindly pointed out that the car was still in gear. With the car back in gear, a little push got it back on the road with nothing more than a few bashes, scratches and a broken headlight. Bueno.

Jack, Maury and Jesse giving the old Saxo Desire a 'once over' after her big crash. Cheers Guys. **Note Jack's T-shirt, perhaps I shouldn't take Jack's life-philosophy so literally in future...  



Source: hazelfindlay

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Gorges Du Tarn and first 8a onsight
10 April 2012, 9:40 am

I’d always wanted to go to Gorges Du Tarn. It looks so pretty in photos, and as Spain was getting a little hot it seemed like a good destination. I also knew that good friends from Bristol were there.

I was still searching for a project, but once again I didn’t find one. There were just so many 7c-8a+ to do. The style is mainly pocketty and LONG. There are a lot of pitches between 50 – 70m. This seems amazing on paper, but when your 60m up with hideous rope drag that makes V0 moves feel like V3, you sort of start craving a good old 20 metre pitch.

Adam (Mulholland) crushing, 3 beers in

The actual valley is really nice, with sleepy, cute french villages dotted along it. The local people there are also ridiculously friendly and super keen to recommend routes.

Alex on Le plaisir qui démonte, 55m 8a+, Tennessee WallSince I failed to find a project I was pretty happy to onsight my first 8a,  Les ailes du désir. I did the 8a to the right second try, and it felt like I could have onsighted it, so I saved the other one for when I was fresh. It felt really easy. I took a long time on it, but only because I didn’t want to read something wrong and botch the moves. I also felt like I could recover on nearly all the holds, which felt nice.

It’s funny I’ve always thought it would be nice to onsight 8a, and I felt like I could quite easily with a little forearm stamina. But it felt so easy that it didn’t seem like much of an achievement. I tried to flash an 8a at Regina, Terredets and it was a whole different experience: I went all out, fighting the pump, flailing and screaming, right to the very end. Although I was annoyed to fall at the last hard move, it felt like much more of an achievement because I really gave it everything. Anyway it’s sort of interesting because it shows that what your proud of often doesn’t really correlate with actual success.

Maury and Jesse returned for some more bolt clipping after their alpine adventures in Cham - here they are squished in the Saxo on the way to the train station.



Source: hazelfindlay

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Home
10 April 2012, 2:45 pm

Since it started to rain a lot in France the decision was made to drive home. It was a very long drive, but nicely broken up by a day in font and an exciting moment in the ferry port, where I made an ‘accidental’ but successful attempt to breach port security.

Excited as I was to be at home the weather forecast was not very inspiring, so we spent only a few days in Bristol before booking flights to Morocco!

In those few days, apart from battling with Mr Taxman at HMRC, I had a day of UK tradding, which was strangely my first since doing ‘Once Upon a time in the Southwest’ in June and Alex’s first time using the infamous ’double rope technique’.

Alex H-Bomb Honnold on Coronary Country E6 The fins in all their glory, taken from this article about Sharpnose http://www.planetfear.com/articles/18_Lower_Sharpnose_Point_686.html I’ve heard so much about Sharpnose and the pictures have always looked so pretty. It is a really cool crag, but unlike a lot of crags in the UK – where the opposite is true – the rock at Sharpnose is worse than it looks. It’s actually a little unnerving, and has a remarkably sandy feel to it. We did Wraith E5 and Coronary Country E6



Whilst I was on the phone to Mr HMRC Alex climbed with Dave at Cheddar in the rain, a crag that he deemed to be ‘the most disgusting cliff he’d ever seen’ and Swanage which he quite liked. Off to Morocco then…



Source: hazelfindlay

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Akchour Valley, Morocco!
7 May 2012, 8:21 pm

Morocco was a great trip. I loved the country and I loved the climbing.

Alex (Honnold) and myself left Bristol in the rain, flew to Marrakesh, stayed there a night then took the train North to the valley of Akchour. We were originally going to go straight to Taghia and stay there, but we heard rumours of multipitch tufas near the med and thought we should check it out.

The main wall in Akchour, still many lines left to bolt! The valley of Akchour is beautiful, much greener than the rest of Morocco. The climbing is pretty cool, but has very ‘fresh’/'new’ feeling, in other words it can be loose, chossy and crozzly. But given a few more years of traffic it could be a really cool place. We stayed at a little climber’s café come guest house called Café Rueda, where you can find topos and information about the climbing. We did two longer routes and finished some open projects at a little sport crag.

A nice little sport crag called sector Kozy. We finished 5 more routes at this wall (I did 1, Alex 4). The climbing can be quite crozzly in places with sharp, skin-tearing bobbles, but with more traffic some of the routes will be really cool. Of the longer routes, Timbuktoo 7c+/8a was the most interesting. It starts with big dripping tufa climbing and goes into cleaner less steep rock higher up. We also simul climbed Africa a 7a+. Even though it was dubbed the classic of the crag, we thought it was pretty average. What was most interesting was trying to climb with a lot of rope drag, which for some reason – I’m notoriously bad at and do my best to avoid, but since Alex is all about going fast and light and efficient, refusing to simul climbing anything below 7a+ was ‘out of the question’. Over the time we were in Morocco I think I improved a little at leading with rope drag and managing the rope whilst seconding, but I still have an aversion to it. Despite disliking rope drag, I must admit that its a nice feeling to have done 3 or 4 pitches without stopping.

In the blue painted city of Chefchoen, this guy is in the right trade It was nice to travel in a non-western country, and it’s something I haven’t done in a while. My memories of doing this have always been that although its interesting to travel in different places, sometimes it feels as though the people are only interested in you for your money. I loved traveling in India and found the people friendly, but I also felt as though they were trying to rip me off, or perhaps pick something out of my pocket. After leaving Marrakesh, I didn’t really have this feeling of unease in Morocco. We left our rooms unlocked the whole time and never once worried about our things getting stolen.

Pretty Chefchoen We hitched to the little sport crag and much to our surprise, were picked up as soon as we put our thumbs out. One time a local family picked us up in their small truck and I sat with bare arms, next to an old Muslim lady with full head scarf. But instead of treating me with disdain, she started pointing at my arms and laughing so hard I thought she was going to wet herself. Anyway, I thought it was pretty cool that she found the idea of me going to hell when I die that funny.

Although we enjoyed climbing in Akchour, thoughts of Taghia pulled us away. We were lucky to meet a nice French girl, Lisse who had driven her van from France, and was driving south to Taghia. Not only were we getting a ride straight to our next destination, but being in her van meant we got to sample more of the country on the way down.

Alex and Lisse



Source: hazelfindlay

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Taghia!
7 May 2012, 9:29 pm

welcome to paradise OK, so Taghia has to be one of the best places I’ve been for mulitpitch sport climbing, if not climbing in general. And I will definitely go back.

Only two routes on this wall

Firstly, Taghia is beautiful! It’s like paradise, even if you’re not into climbing. You walk 3 hours to the village with some donkeys to carry your stuff as there are no roads that go to the village. As you turn the last bend of the valley you are greeted by big orange and yellow limestone towers that loom over a little village with a pretty little stream running through it. There are bright little patches of green where ever the stream reaches the ground and little water falls that sprout out of the walls. Every time we walked into a route, I was so happy to see that even the mud is pretty, it’s a funny shade of purple and sparkles in the sun.

poor little donkey The accommodation scene, is that basically, you choose one of three gites in the village and pay a fee per day that covers, a bed, dinner and breakfast. We stayed at Said’s place and found it to be really friendly, pretty clean and comfortable, shower scene.. not great but good enough. And just a warning – if you have something against the French, perhaps Taghia is not the best spot for you. Taghia seems to attract the French like bears to honey (they’re not stupid, the French).

When Hazel is in charge of packing the lunch this is all we get, an almond to share We were in Taghia for 10 days and 9 of them all were filled with some kind of climbing or hiking. Taghia is a place where you will find it almost impossible to sit still, and this isn’t just because there is no internet, TV, pubs or shops. It’s because it feels like a playground, a Disney land for the climber and hiker. Everywhere you look there is an adventure hiding, waiting to be had; all you have to do is pick a direction to walk in. Apart from the very first day, when we got caught in an epic snow storm, we enjoyed stable albeit slightly cold weather.

Alex, Widmo The rock is really solid and clean. Mainly crimpy or pocketted, and anywhere from slabby to slightly overhanging. A lot of the harder routes that we did haven’t had much traffic and as a result are fun to onsight as there isn’t much chalk or boot rubber giving you clues. The routes are anything from one to 18 pitches, the best ones we did, around 16 pitches. There is trad climbing there, but we thought that the sport routes were on nicer rock, and are on the most part the harder routes. A lot of the time we would walk for an hour or so to get to the base, and although you can ab the routes, we chose to walk off them, taking an hour and a half or something. All the climbing and hiking really added up towards the end of the ten days and I felt pretty tired on the way home. But it felt nice to be tired, because I knew we had really made the most of our time there.

Afternoon tea I really enjoyed the rock climbing, but there is something special about Taghia and the people that live there, that will bring me back, even when the memories of the cool routes we did have faded. Throughout the village the local people will always say hi, in either French or Arabic and if you meet a lone shepherd walking on the high plains, he will most likely invite you to have tea with him and chat to you in broken French.



These are the routes we did with a few words about them if anyone’s interested in doing them.

Les Rivieres Pourpres 7b+ – really cool, awesome rock, well bolted

Tout Pour Le Club 7c – really nice, brilliant 7c pitch lower down, really technical, no rubbish pitches but only 7 in total

L’Axe Du Mal 7c+ – really nice, a lot of easy pitches, and some not so nice ones higher up, the 7c+ crux isn’t so hard, with the hard climbing only being a few metres in length

Sul Filo Du Notte 7c+ – really amazing, a lot harder than L’Axe Du Mal. I onsighted the first 7c+ but the second one has quite a hard few moves, which I worked out after a fall but they were very low percentage, involving the smallest holds/thumb sprags known to man. The upper pitches aren’t very nice, with lots of crozzly rock.

Widmo 7c+/8a, really good – the 7c+8a pitch I got second go, and is really cool, not very cruxy, the next 7c+ isn’t that hard, but be warned if you aren’t rapping the ’3′ pitch that is supposed to traverse you off to the summit, is longer than your rope length, has no bolts and is a little sketch if you’re not into soloing slightly chossy rock/gullys after a sport climb.

Zebda 7b+, really nice, a short approach, hard first pitch for 7b+ especially if you’re short.

I also did Belle et Berber with Lisse, 6b+, about 10 pitches, really nice

We also tried Fantasia, but we got really cold and came down at pitch 7, but it looks really good, will be psyched to try it on a return trip.



Source: hazelfindlay