Four months in, and I am sitting in a fancy hotel in Zurich, typing up my second blog entry. I started about a month ago, but there has been alot to say. I'm still not finished but I will post what I have so far. Next installment will come soon! But, just to let people know I am still alive and still pretty lazy huh?! Or maybe I’ve just been extremely busy..
UK.
So, if you scroll back a few pages or more, I think it says I was somewhere in the country of pubs after climbing. Where they have pints of tea as much as possible and chips on the side of everything- Curry with rice and chips? How about some chips with your baked beans and cheese? And with those chips, salt and vinegar and neon mushy peas?
I ended up spending one month in the UK. And despite prior misconceptions, I loved it. The less than optimal conditions (sunny days) in the Peak District meant all those death E9’s I had in mind seemed less and less feasible by each degree above freezing. So I ended up settling for star collecting. I filled my days with classics, with 13 stars in one day at The Roaches my record. When I return to Oz, I am going to work on my new website. It’s like 8a.nu. But better. It’s based on quality of routes (stars), not the grade. So in keeping with that system, some favourites were:
- Quietus -an awful bulging roof crack at Stanage (a crag I wouldn’t drive 5 hrs to climb at)
- Fern Hill, Five finger exercise, Requiem- Classic routes at a crag called Cratcliffe.
After Sheffield, I headed to North Wales- Llanberis Pass. Here, I discovered my inner desire to become the triathlete of rockclimbing. Why should I have to discriminate between the three elements of climbing? The argument of Trad vs. Sport vs. Bouldering is old. On Sunday 7 June 2009, I trad climbed Comes the Dervish (a slate E3 slab) in the rain, bouldered my second V7/8- Cleaver Beaver, and clipped some bolts at Lower Pen Trywn. Why specialise in one, when you can be Average Joe at all three in one day!?
Noteworthy occurences in North Wales:
- Did my first V9- Jerry’s Roof (a classic roof problem on the roadside)
- Drank pints of tea at ‘possibly the best café in the world’ followed by a multipitch in the evening sun, ‘where there is no finer place to be’, resulting in having to stop mid pitch and find facilities to cope with the diuretic effects of 1L of tea.
- Saw Andy Jennings lead a trad pitch
- Belayed an impressive lead by Simon Wilson- Pretty Pink (death slate slab)
Pembroke was next. My favourite place in the UK. Amazing traditional seacliff climbing in the beautiful summer sun. A must do is ‘Bloody Sunday’. E4 6A in Huntsman’s Leap. Then, I was lucky enough to be taken to a new area being established, Gun Cliff, to play on some new routes.
Frankenjura.
The land of manky dark forests and tweaky pockets. And first bolts up to 8m off the deck. Where ‘classic’ could mean ‘alpine, potentially dangerous, special’ routes... but to make up for all of this, there were some very enjoyable routes. And even more enjoyable homemade cheesecake.
Just less than three weeks in the Frankenjura and I left feeling like a 70 yr old woman with achey fingers. The Germans are strong and hard. And my fingers and body proved to be too soft. I tweaked a finger on some lame warm up. Got scared by too many spiders in too many pockets. Got put off by too much moss covered rock. And had less than enough rest days in the preceding 2 months.
However, I like the Frankenjura. It was a challenge, and I like to think I did ok. Once you accept the place isn’t a holiday crag and are prepared to get shut down, then it’s a humbling experience. I laughed at outrageous anchors, which were single bolts I mistook for any other bolt on route. And each time I had to clip off a tiny pocket instead of a jug 10cm below, I just exclaimed “damn tall German” and thought, “at least they are bolting”. I can’t complain, because I’m not.
Funny conversation I had with a local before doing Schleimspur 9-.
Before doing this route, a typical nerd looking German with his shorts up to his chin rapped down and put draws in for a top rope. This guy had it all calculated. He had his belaying girlfriend, who seemed shocked and insulted when I asked if she were going to try it next. He had all the ‘tips’. And he had his top rope. After he went, I asked if I could try the route, and pull his rope through. He looked confused. I thought he didn’t Sprechen Sie Englisch. But he did. The conversation went something like this:
Me: Can I have a go?
Nerdy German: On my toprope?
Me: No. I can use my own rope, then thread yours back through.
Nerdy German: ahh….ok. Have you top roped it yet?
Me: No.
Nerdy German: You want to….onsight it?
Me: ahh…I suppose so.
Nerdy German: Ahhh…have you tried it before?
Me: No. So I suppose, if I do it, that would be an onsight?
Nerdy German: Ahh…do you want tips?
Me: No. It wouldn’t be an onsight then would it?
Nerdy German: Are you sure?
Me: Yes.
Nerdy German: ahhh…ok.
So I tried to onsight it. And fell. And when I got down, German had the nerve to say “Do you think, if I told you ze tips, you would have done it?” I replied with, “I don’t know”. And did it second go. No onsight, but oh well!
I must explain why this German was so concerned however. The crux was about 10m up (so about halfway). While doing the crux, the last bolt is about a metre below your feet to the right. Then, you make a few easy moves on jugs….maybe 3 more metres? Then you clip another bolt. So, if you fall at the crux it’s fine. If you fall at the next bolt, it’s not fine. This German top toped it clean 3 more times while I was there.
Some other sweet pockets pullers were:
Stromlinie 9
Sautanz 9-
Bondage 8+/9- Onsight
Bella Additione 8+. This was a very dramatic experience with almost coming off at the crux, with a bolt 2m below and to the right. After clipping in, the blue sky turned grey with dark clouds. And the rain started coming down on the cliff, coinciding with loud thunder. And as I approached the chains, the sky cleared and there was a cheer from the crowds….well. No crowd. Just me. Happy with the onsight.
City Living.
Next chapter of the trip, I went to Munich. I was feeling tired and I needed to get away from the climbing to let my body heal and recover. I got off the train in the city centre with an American (Chris, who hated the Jura). She booked a train to Ceuse and I decided to try and find a bed for the night. So I wondered the streets of Munich in the rain with all my climbing gear and found a Youth Hostel. After all, that’s what everyone my age does when they travel Europe isn’t it? Stay in Youth Hostels and party? Well. I found one, for 24 euro a night. I walked into my 6 bed dorm and took off my rainjacket and approach shoes. I put down my bags filled with draws/stove/70m rope/sleeping bag etc and said hi to my roomie. A 25yr old med student from Fitzroy. She was annoyed. She had just cut her fringe herself and it wasn’t right! Exactly what her hairdresser told her not to do. It was poking her eyes. And her eye makeup was all smudged. And all hell had broken loose. Her dress and shoes were fine though…sigh.
Travel bliss had come to a halt. I felt injured and needed to rest. But I hated the city hostel life. I thought I would stay in Munich for a week but I lasted 2 days. Randomly, I ended up going with an Americano climber to Salzburg and Vienna. These places are beautiful. We walked the streets as photo taking tourists and shared a bottle of wine on our first night in Salzburg. Then went to our dorm, and fell asleep at 9pm in our respective bunk beds. I was in the wrong frame of mind. I felt exhausted, and wanted to be climbing. But knew I shouldn’t. So instead, I was drinking every night, spending too much money on hostels and eating the cheapest shittiest food available, which are kebabs. This lifestyle is not sustainable- definately not if I wanted to be a serious triathlete of climbing.
Polski.
A country I had never placed high on my priority list of important places to spend my euro trip. But, that country name would become a common conversation topic for many months to come, and contain the most memorable moments of my trip. I needed a car. And a van was the dream. But there were issues. How do I buy a car? Who’s name would I put it under? I only speak English. And I don’t have a lot of money. There were a lot of limiting factors. But, the perfect solution (what seemed perfect at the time) was to buy a van with Tassie Doug in Poland. And put it under his broski’s name. Doug’s bro; Andy, spoke Polish and had a visa. And his girlfriend, Ania, was the missing link between me and driving to Ceuse in my mobile home.
I got a night couchette from Vienna to Krakow on the 8th July. Then on the 9th July, I met Doug, Andy and his gf, Ania. And we celebrated my birthday in one of Krakow’s finest hospitals. Andy had the pleasure of slipping off one of the world’s most polished (Pol-ished: haha! Get it?) foot holds and hit the deck. After 4 hours in the hospital for an x ray, we found out Andy had a foot. And it was sprained. We then went out for dinner at an Indian/Italian cuisine restaurant. I didn’t realise how multi cultural Poland was till then. Following this, I had a taste of what would be my favourite drink in Poland- Tatanka. Apple juice, special vodka and cinnamon. 23 and loving life.
I spent just over 2 weeks in Krakow, and saw a lot more in this country than the standard tourist or climber. Time in Poland was spent doing the following:
- Sleeping on Andy’s futon, in his room. In Poland, a standard apartment has a kitchen, bathroom and bedrooms. No living area or dining area. Just larger bedrooms, with beds that usually fold away.
- First Sunday I walked around a gravel car yard looking for a van amongst about 1000 random rusty vehicles. Meanwhile I was clutching my bag, scared of it being stolen after being warned by Ania and wandering how many of those cars were stolen.
- Climbed at the two most polished crags I have ever been to while it was 30+ degrees.
- Made up wicked boulder problems at the two local climbing gyms.
- Drank beer that was cheaper than water or non-alcoholic drinks.
- Ate amazing ice cream at least once a day, sometimes twice.
- Saw a classical pianist (who looked like he was 15) play Choppin pieces.
- Bought a blue Renault Kangoo from a fat Polish man wearing pink crocs, shorts and yellow singlet that didn’t cover much.
- Ate a 60cm diameter pizza (not by myself, but there is always next time).
- Built a bed and storage space in Castorama (massive hardware store) carpark in 30+ deg heat. We used a borrowed (shitty) drill and communal tools from within the store, or utilised their excellent return policy.
- Got curtains made at Ikea- a shop that is taking over the world and makes Andy’s favourite meatballs.
- Was invited to Ania’s family home out in the country to eat homegrown, local cuisine. Had a BBQ on the balcony in the rain. And left with homemade jam and a warm fuzzy feeling over how lovely Ania’s family is.
- Drove to about 6 mechanics to get a “MOT”; Roadworthy equivalent.
Drive out of Poland to Italy was…long. It took 6 hours due to roadworks and traffic jams, for what should have been about one hour according to Google Maps. A large proportion of the drive was at 0km/hr. This was partly due to traffic, but also the temperamental speedometer that would occasionally decide to stop working. This would all be a lot more bearable if we had the ability to choose good music, but, no. We bought the cheapest possible car stereo we could find, from a nice, but dodgy Polish guy, Konrad. So all we could do was put Doug’s ipod on random. And it would, randomly work, and not work…
Arco.
The next destination was Arco. Rumour was, there was good climbing, and the cheapest climbing gear in all of Europe. Doug and I arrived in Arco feeling like we hadn’t slept in two days and sitting in a car for even longer. So we decided not to climb that day. Just buy me a new harness (my belay loop stitching was coming apart, much to my partners dismay) and whatever other goodies I “needed”. But, we soon found out Italy is a bit like Spain in that, the streets turn to a ghost town between 12.30 and 3.30pm. All shops close, meaning no harness for me.
We decided to get the bodies moving and work our fatigue away by climbing. We didn’t have a guide, let alone an English one. But I had prior tips from Jurgen (Esther’s partner) that Laghel was good. So we went there, and it was barricaded like an army station. Well, at least an intense construction site. With “PRIVATO” and other signs to the effect of, “Keep out or else” all over. So, we waited till a shop was open, took some pics of a guide and headed to Nago. We found the cliff, but couldn’t find the track. It was amazingly frustrating seeing it and being 200m from it, but having houses and fences all around. A successful failed climbing and shopping day.
Alas, in the next few days we found some climbing at Belvedere and Nago. Okay cliffs but nothing I would fly to the other side of the world for. I would however, fly to the other side of the world for Italy itself. I love this country! The people are so joyous and friendly. The streets are small, cobbled and beautiful. This whole area is postcard worthy (or even opening scene of the new James Bond movie worthy!). The ice-cream is the best in the world. The four cheese pizza, the best in the world! Well, it’s the only four cheese pizza I have ever had, but, I can make that claim on principle of Italy being the pizza castle of the world. So, I was torn. At the end of a climbing day I was on the verge of tears after struggling on 6C+ routes and wanted to leave, yet wanted to stay for the celebratory atmosphere and vibe I got from the locals. It was a love-hate relationship.
Next was Lecco- home of a hotel that charged 10 Euros for a shower. Guess how desperate I was feeling? Anyway, on the upside, it was also the home of the best crag I went to in Italy, Nibbio. Long, nice, technical 20m plus routes in the shade all day- so perfect for the hot summer days I was getting! I did a route “McKinley”, my first 7C (third 27) second go which was a pleasant surprise. Sustained, pumpy face route and brilliant. It was relieving to leave Italy on a good note, because it was time for Ceuse....
Next Chapter coming soon- Ceuse/Paris (including Moulin Rouge with my mum) and Zurich. Stay tuned! Till then, hope you enjoyed the reading...whoever you creepy stalkers are!
Dre.
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