The second best cliff in the world.

It has been speculated that Ceuse is the best sport climbing cliff in the world. And you’re living under a rock (no pun intended) if you haven’t heard of it, or seen pictures of its stunning cliff line, or heard of that route-what is it called again? Biographie? No- Realisation. Done by that guy. Ah, yelling Americano. Sharma or something?

I was pretty psyched. Psyched to check it out and see what all the hype was about. Firstly however, on the way to Ceuse I thought it would be nice to have a shower in Gap, in case we didn’t want to pay for camping. The solution was to find a public swimming pool. To our confusement (that’s confusing and amazement in one), it was regulatory for males to swim in budgy smugglers. So that ruled Doug out, he only had boardies…odd huh? Anyway, so my French isn’t so good and we somehow, conveniently, got pointed in the direction of showers for free- much better than 10E. So I say to Doug, “meet you outside once I’m done” and walk off. Then we both walk in the direction of what we thought were our respective gender specific showers and stop; side by side. I found myself looking at everyone- males, females, toddlers, grandmas, teenagers, dogs (ok, no dogs, we’re not in Spain yet)- showering together. Omg. There were communal showers for everyone to shower together, as one happy family. To my relief, budgy smugglers and bikinis stayed on. Didn’t stop the men putting their hands down for a quick rinse though! Only in France.

The walk- the test of all sport climbers’ pin thin legs.
“The walk” was a common topic associated with Ceuse climbing conversations. Nearly every time there was talk of Ceuse, someone would proclaim, “that damned walk” and curse it for a couple moments or more. “It’s so hot walking up! It’s all uphill! My knees got so sore! My hips! My legs!” Et cetera. I was warned and warned. So naturally, I expected the worst. I expected the walk to The Gallery but for an hour and to do it almost every day for a month plus, not just a weekend. And I think that’s the best way to approach it. Know that it’s going to take 40min if you’re fit and wanting to listen to some pumpy music and go go go. If not, and you want to walk and talk, it is a standard 50min or so, depending on how far along the cliff you go. Accept that the walk and climbing go hand in hand. And if you don’t want to walk, then ultimately you don’t want to climb. But I did want to climb, so I walked. No one warned me about the walk down however. It was the walk down in the dark at 9pm that tested my limited patience after a 6am start. Fun in the ‘Dictionary of Andrea’ is not defined as stumbling along a rocky, narrow, tree rooted, and sometimes wet track with a headtorch in desperate need of new batteries. Conversely, fun can be described as running downhill while the track is dry and visible. Until you build up too much speed and don’t make it around the corner effectively- to find yourself having stabbed your chin into a tree and bleeding everywhere….
It also wasnt fun if, like on my last day, you walk along a steep gravel part of the direct route, about five mins from the base, and slip. Stupidly, I put my hand down and tore myself a sweet flapper. Good thing I was leaving that night, and heading to the city!

There was one day I almost went crazy walking up. It was my third last day and I didn’t want to walk. It was hot. And I was tired. And the psych had dwindled to a big trickle of sweat. I stood at the bottom, and said “I don’t want to walk up this hill today”. And as I embarked the direct route from the forest, words such as, “this is meant to get easier! I hate this damned direct route! Eh grumble grumble…” came about. And that was the biggest mistake I could have made, because it took over an hour that day to get to Demi Lune wall. I arrived grumpy and agitated. Sorry Doug! Luckily, I had a sweet day on the rock which made the last two days immensely easier.

Sun Vs. Shade.
I had never discussed climbing weather tactics so much in my life. Usually, I love the sun. But in Ceuse, I detested the sun with an unforgiving passion. It was like there were 4 microhabitats within each day. There was a whole different season in the sun versus the shade at camp, and sun versus shade at the crag.

I found myself waking up at 6am on mornings I wanted to climb at La Cascade, struggling to get out of bed because it was cold out. Thirty minutes later, I was sweating in shorts and singlet walking up the hill. One hour later, I would be wearing gloves and downjacket while belaying, in hope of keeping warm to climb. Then the sun would come out to play at about 12pm. And I would have sunglasses on, shorts and crop top struggling to see my climber on the cliff because it was so hot and shiny. I would then retreat to the shade, and eat some lunch with a jumper on. Then the walk of justice to the other side of the cliff (Berlin, Demi Lune, Biographie, etc). Walking from La Cascade can often be misconceived as a mere, ‘walk around the corner’. An Estonian friend of mine claimed it took five, maybe 10 minutes (he also claimed it took him 30 minutes to the crag each day). However, don’t be fooled by this ‘walk around the corner’ trap. This walk is below the cliffline, so it is like a suntrap. It has no shade from the trees, or cliff, and is usually done between one and four in the afternoon, so it’s prime skin cancer rays time. I still don’t know exactly how long it takes because I would embark without thinking it was far enough to validate timing. But as you walk, with all your gear, in the sun, looking at the heat rise from the yellow grass in the distance, you can’t help but feel like you are in the desert, as opposed to the Alps. Then, once the shade hits at about 4pm, the rock cools (eventually) and you prepare for microhabitat 10 of the day. Downjackets and pants back on till dark- 9pm. Then the walk/run/stumble down in t-shirt weather.

If you don’t do a morning session, just evening, you walk from base at 3pm and sweat like a feral farm pig (do pigs even sweat??). Meanwhile, you sit at camp twiddling your thumbs getting bored. Psyching yourself out of the climb that you fell at the last bolt on yesterday. Or getting frustrated that you will probably only tie in 4 times that day due to only having 5 hours of shade/daylight. One to warm up, maybe a moderate climb next, then two goes on a ‘hard’ route. Then stumble back in the dark.


Ethics of route sharing on the battle ground.
Of course the “best sport climbing crag in the world” is going to be packed to the brim right!? Peak season at Ceuse is Summer- July to August. The high altitude means this is the best time to climb at Ceuse, and everywhere else is too hot. So therefore, is apparently the only place to sport climb in all of Europe. Or at least that’s what it felt like- 12 months of usual traffic in 2 months. This is when every loud American, reserved Polish (yet tried to make friends with me, thinking I was Polish from my number plate), ‘Auf gitz!’ German, French (need I say more?), mulleted Spanish (and their dog), cheery Italian, and whoever else, were trying the same route as me.

I am from Melbourne- a place where my local crag is The Grampians, a four hour drive away. I am from Melbourne- a place where I really struggle to find a climbing partner for just two days mid week. A place where you often know most people at the campsite, if there is anyone else there in the first place. A place where everyone sits around camp at night, drinking wine and laughing away. It’s common to park your car and see maybe one more, a walker’s car. A place where while you walk to the crag, are surprised if you hear voices already there. Weekend or weekday. Irregardless of perfect weather. At The Gallery. Or Muiline. Or even the highly regarded, Taipan Wall. If you really wanted, you could try your project 10 times in one day (whether it’s productive or not, that’s not the point). Often your physical fatigue and skin are the limiting factors of attempts.

Ceuse is in a completely different library, let alone page of the same book. The campsite had up to maybe 100 people on the busiest nights. But you wouldn’t guess it if you had a blindfold on. There are tents, cars and vans everywhere and people- quietly lurking around. During the day, people at camp read and rest. Ultimate goal is to preserve energy. Occasionally there is a short slackline session, until the male campsite owner orders something in French, to the desired effect of the slackline being dismantled. At night, there is nobody around till 10pm. Prior to that, everyone is desperately trying to get a third attempt in before its dark. Soon after, there is the dull sizzle of food being cooked on stoves and silent whispers. Sport climbers are a serious bunch- especially Ceuse climbers. Once food is cooked and eaten, recovery begins for their next project attempt. Straight to bed.

Chris, a friend I made in the Frankenjura, turned “21” while we were in Ceuse. This girl made many friends over her two months plus visit. So, night of her birthday she invited everyone around to her trailer trash caravan. People sat and stood around, drinking, talking, laughing and eating birthday cake. Nothing outrageous. However, come 11pm nearby campers broke up the happiness. It wasn’t quite as abrupt as mallets or hammers to the head. But a polite, civilised ‘sport climbers- I need to rest’ complaint was sufficient. They weren’t from NSW.

I soon discovered if I wanted to climb anything at La Cascade I had to wake up at 6am. This allowed enough time to arrive at the crag at 8am, warm-up and have two attempts of a new route/project of my choice, in the shade. Otherwise, the only routes free would be above 8a+ (I’m not that turbo- yet) or something that didn’t appeal. Or climb in the scorching sun. It was an unbelievable site, to see 20 people stitched along the one wall at any one time just as the sun was settling in on the crag.

‘Around the corner’, Demi Lune, Berlin et cetera, tactics weren’t so easy. There were a lot more people to contend with than at La Cascade, meaning options were limited. And even if you were on your route of choice, Bloke One, Two and Three would ask if they can go after you. Which is fine, if it were an ideal world and I did everything in one shot. But I don’t live in an ideal world. Let’s give you a typical scenario:

Doug and I walked over from La Cascade to Berlin and were the first to sit under a route called Blocage Violent 7b+, and wait for the shade. This route had always had a party on it, and a party waiting, so we never bothered. But today we were early, and it was just us until Doug was ready for his first attempt. And as he climbed, the masses swooped in. Just like climbers swooping in for free booty left by bumblies at Araps over Easter. It was easy for me to say “I am climbing next”. That’s easy to accept. But what made things complicated was, Doug fell near the top. So obviously, would want to try again after me. But then, here are the questions I still need answered:
- When does Bloke One go?
- After me?
- After Doug’s second go?
- What if I fall?
- Do they go after me if they asked while Doug was climbing?
- What if they ask while I was climbing?
- Does it depend on if they are dogging? Or a redpoint attempt?
- What about Bloke Two?
- Do they go after Bloke One?
- Or after Doug and I try a second time?
- Or do they bugger off and try a different route?


So in this aforementioned situation, I fell. And Doug had tied in and was chalking up for his second attempt after me. No one had asked to go next, until now. A Frenchie, came over and the conversation went something like this:
Frenchie: Can I climb now?
Doug: Now? No. I am about to climb.
Frenchie: And after you?
Doug: Well, no. Maybe after her (me).
Frenchie: I will be quick, I just want to warm-up. I will only go halfway.
Doug: Well, after we go you can.
Frenchie: Usually, people take it in turns. I will be quick, just a warm-up for me. It is very busy, nothing is free and this route is very beautiful.
Doug: Yes we know it is busy. We have waited 2 weeks to get on this route. That’s why after I go, and her (me), then you can go. That is taking it in turns isn’t it? Or you can try something else. If it just a warm-up, you can try anything?
Frenchie: blah blah….walks away.

Hmm. So I am still confused as to whether we were being irrational? Or rude? Or that’s fair?
Usually, I like sharing. My parents brought me up well. You can share beta, get more rest, sit and relax, blah blah. But, as you may have picked up, climbing in Ceuse with good conditions is limited. It is limited by shade, sun, rock heat, darkness, fatigue and other people. If you let them go, your second attempt is in the sun. Or, you have waited so long your fingers are numb. Or it’s dark. I felt like a mere country girl in a big city- a mere Grampians climber in the big bad world of Ceuse.

WC- Toilette- Lavatory- Toilet- Footpath.
It’s a sensitive topic, but I am going to go there. In brief, Europe crags are feral. Never have I come across such inconsiderate, foul, hygiene habits. On numerous occasions I found myself walking along the main path to the crag, looking down at brown smeared toilet paper. Or puddles of piss. Or the worst bit, sanitary napkins! Why not take one step to the side to pee? Or sometimes I would accidently take what I thought was a path to another part of the cliff, to find myself at the “toilet”. There is no hole digging, hardly any distance from the crag, or discretion with amount of toilet paper used. My favourite was a pile of toilet paper sticking out from under one of those starting, height disadvantaged-cheating rocks, under a climb at La Cascade. Yummy.


To project or not to project?
I was torn on whether or not I should project something hard. In the previous month, the most I had tried anything was four goes in one day. Everything else, was usually within two, sometimes three attempts. But I thought seeing as I would be in Ceuse for a long period of time, I should ‘project.’ But I decided not for at least the first few days. First few days were dedicated to familiarizing myself with the cliff. No demoralizing- similar to Italy shut downs.

I must admit, I don’t know much about the outside climbing world- the kind of stuff you read in magazines, watch on dvds, talk on forums about, et cetera. I have no idea who the big names of climbing are or many famous routes. All I knew was that Realisation was at Ceuse, but I thought I might leave that for my next trip. Baby steps.

Helen Day briefly wrote me a list of things to try, which was inclusive of the routes ‘Mirage’ 7c+ and ‘Carte Blanche’ 8a. I also had a UK friend ‘oohh and ahh’ over Carte Blanche. So, as I arrived I thought I may as well try it. I made one goal- to do this one route. I had theoretically done two 8a’s before. So why not one in Ceuse too?

Second day there, a friend was trying Mirage. So despite Doug and I agreeing not to try anything hard for at least a few days, we caved in. This 25m beautifully long route, as the name suggests, is quite deceiving. It fools you into thinking you are close to sending, until you peel off at the very end. I saw half a dozen guys (never saw a female on it) fall at the last bolt. It starts as a roof, straightens up, and then gives you massive jugs to prepare for the finish, which is steeper, thinner and more sequency. This route took five attempts (three days), a lot more than I initially thought it would….

Two weeks later, Doug and I had our first attempts on Carte Blanche. The start of this route is really steep and bouldery and quite honestly, ugly. We had no beta- hadn’t watched anyone on it and were feeling less than fresh after climbing the day before. Doug went first and made it to the second bolt, cursed a bit then lowered off. I went next, got to the same spot, cursed a bit, then lowered off. Doug went next, dogged to the third bolt, cursed a bit more, then bailed. I went next, dogged to the fourth bolt, cursed more, then bailed. At sunset, we managed to get to the fourth bolt- the crux. Yet, the first 3 bolts felt utterly desperate. During the walk down there was a long philosophical talk on satisfaction of onsighting vs. projecting the hell out of something. It was over a week until we decided to get back on it. I had one go, got too frustrated, and cleaned my draws off. Again, you will not find fun in the ‘Dictionary of Andrea’ described as getting my arse absolutely wooped! This route felt utterly unattainable within a practical amount of time. I proclaimed it too hard to do within three fresh days and would prefer to do three new routes.

Over the next two weeks I ticked a couple of 7c’s and 7c+’s. There was another route that caught my interest however. Bourinator 8a- translation from French is meant to mean something to the effect of ugly, powerful and burly- perfect style for me! Hah! I saw a few people on it and heard a lot of talk about it. I think the trigger for me wanting to do this route was my friend, Jurgen. Jurgen jokes a lot, and I find him hilarious. But, I know there is a slight truth to his jokes. Eg. He idolizes Chris Sharma and anyone who climbs hard. He jokingly said he categorises everyone he meets into ‘grades’- 7a, 7b, 7c, 8a, 8b and anything more is praiseworthy. Don’t get me wrong, he has no discrimination towards ‘weaker’ climbers, just, more respect for those that crush 9a!
Anyway, one night over some wine, Jonas, a German friend who was trying Bourinator, mentioned he had only seen one girl try this route before. In result, Jurgen joked it was because women have less power, very obviously implying I wouldn’t be able to do it. Challenge accepted and dispatched in three days!

This route opened the dusty rotting cupboard of Carte Blanche again. It was a rest day, and I had three more days left in Ceuse. So Doug and I had another philosophical conversation deep into the night, over whether or not we should try Carte Blanche again, or a few easier routes. After much deliberation, I decided to risk the possibility of failure. Three days to send a route I had previously filed into the impossible folder…

This time, we had done our homework. Over the previous few weeks, we watched people on the route and asked anyone who had done it; how to do it. I had never passed the crux before, because I got too demoralized by the beginning to care. But word on the street was that after the crux, it’s sustained, pumpy, and cool. I could do sustained, pumpy and cool! So Doug came up with a brilliant idea; pull through the first two bolts, figure out the crux, and suss out the top. And that’s what I did. I figured out the crux move third go, and nailed a good sequence for the last bolt (because I saw two people fall there that very same day). Then second attempt, I did the route with one sit, linking from the crux to the top. Sweet! All hope was not lost. There was no way I was coming off at the top.

That night, there was more deliberation- rest tomorrow then crush the day I leave? But what if I don’t do it and have to leave? Or, just try it tomorrow and hope for the best. And if not, then I still have day three? But then, on day three, I will probably be too tired if I couldn’t even do it second day? Oh the stress!

Decision was made, and I walked up the next day. But my head was a mess and I fell at the crux twice, and then it got dark. I was a silent, angry, stressed ball ready to explode! I walked down in silence, mind racing as fast as a Tour Du France cyclists’ downhill wheels. That night I ate in silence, ate almost a block of chocolate then went to bed. And as I drew the crazy psychedelic Ikea curtains of my van, I remembered how much I loved life. I remembered how every night, as I close those curtains, I feel like a child in my very own cubby house, and the biggest grin is plastered on my face. So, poof! The stress was gone and I woke up feeling like a monk post meditation session.

While I warmed up for my last day at Ceuse, I knew my body was tired, third day on. My usual warm-up, Lapinerie 7b, felt tough today. I knew I only had one good go in me to accomplish my one goal, any more attempts would be useless. So I gave it my absolute all. There were about five instances I thought I was peeling off along the way. But at each semi-rest I pretty much talked to myself, and psyched myself up for the next semi-rest. Section by section, I held on. Until I got to the sequence at the top which I supposedly had wired. I missed a footer in my exhaustion, cut loose on a crossover on small crimps, regained my feet then went for the jug for glory- and missed it. I lowered down, packed up my gear and carried it down to pack for Paris.


The first route to bring me to tears.
‘Ténéré’ 7c+ is a route at La Cascade, a steep cliff typically involving big moves on big holds. This route follows a beautiful orange streak just to the left of Mirage. It starts as a roof, straightens out on massive jugs then finishes over a small roof that then slabs out. I heard the crux was the roof at the top, a typical footless mantle type scenario on small holds. But on my first day, I found three more cruxes. Ape like moves to handle bars, bar one. One angled throw to the sharpest pocket I have held in all of Ceuse (exclusive of Frankenjura). I didn’t like my chances. I am not a big person. In fact, some people may go as far as to call me, short. I watched a tall guy on this route, and the moves were nothing. But as I tried it, in my head it was “one, two, three, LAUNCH!”, then this same process 2 more times, and then the crux to finish. But, I was determined to do. Because I found it hard (again, I hadn’t seen any girls on it) and it was the line of the crag. Second day/fifth go, I launched my way up. And that sharp pocket gave me a nasty blood blister, popping while topping out. That pocket almost made me cry.

One route did however, make me cry like a spoilt little child who wasn’t allowed a lollypop- “Le privilege du serpent” 7c+ . On my flash attempt, I got to the second last bolt. I then got to the very same spot on my second attempt. Then third. Then fourth. Sheer frustration! I pulled straight back on and tried to go to the top. Beta was, don’t clip the last bolt, just go straight to the anchors. But by my fourth go, my arms were….weak. I went for the jug, fell, grabbed the rope, then punched myself in the nose as the rope went tight. ARGH! I felt so dumb, inefficient and shit. And, my nose hurt! So, for the first time ever, I cried over climbing. Maybe I care more than I used to? Or maybe I expect more? Maybe both. Or, my nose just hurt?

Onsight of my career.
I don’t like slabs. In fact, on occasion I have claimed to hate slabs and believe I am terrible at them. But, as a dedicated triathlete of climbing, one must embrace all forms of each element mustn’t they? There was one blank face at Berlin Wall, which looked amazing from a distance, and from below. This route was ‘Cent Potates’ 7b+ (26 right?), and I onsighted it in one hour. And I puff my chest out to everyone over this claim!! It’s wicked- one of the best routes I did at Ceuse.


And on that note, á bientot! This Ceuse chapter has proven to be much longer than anticipated. Five weeks at Ceuse is the longest I have ever spent at any one crag. I suppose, in between all my whinging and whining, I secretly love this place. All except for the damn fox in the forest that stole my 1kg bag of pears! Naturally, no place is like home, but this place is pretty damn sweet.


Installment four shall come at a later date. Till then, hope you are all having fun adventures of your own!

Oh. And a ticklist of some sort. X means, I was essesntially too soft.


La Grande Face
- Inesperance 6a+/6b+/6c+/7a (third pitch is glory pitch!)

Demi Lune
- Carte Noir 6a
- Marylou 6b
- Harley Davidson 6b+
- Chant de Cristal 6b+
- Lapinerie 7b
- Minette a la plage 7c (extension of Marylou)
- X Carte Blanche 8a

La Cascade
- Des Trous (direct) 6c
- Medecine douche 6c+
- Ananda 7a
- Super mickey 7b (crux was getting through the masses to actually tie in)
- Corps estranger 7b+
- Vagabond d’occident 7c
- Blanches Fesses 7c
- Mirage 7c+
- Ténéré7c+
- Le privilege du serpent 7c+

Berlin
- Super Mario 6b
- Zagreb 6c
- X Casse- Noisette 7a+ (slab)
- X La petit illusion 7a+ (hint: not an ideal warm-up)
- X Galaxy 7b+ (worst route I tried on Berlin)
- Cent Potates 7b+
- Blocage Violent 7b+
- X Makach Walou 7c+ (tried it for one day, then realized I would rather try something else)

Un pont sur l’infini
- Gelati Dolomiti 7a
- Bourinator 8a

Les Maitres du Monde
- Bibendum 7b+
- Teuchipa 7c

Dre.