If anyone is at all interested in clipping bolts, Catalunya is a must stop. The amount of immaculate rock in this area is unlimited. Terradets. Oliana. Santa Linya. Montgrony. Mont Sante. Margalef. Siurana. And so much more. I spent just under two months in the region of Catalunya. Three weeks post Kalymnos, then another three weeks post Christmas. Despite spending this amount of time there, I would say I attempted maybe a mere 0.0001% of routes. Every crag you go to, there will be locals, crushing everything. Spain as a population, has got to have the largest percentage of talented climbers in the world I have seen. Back in Oz, I see person after person in the gym, strong and fit, but never applying that ability to rock. In Spain, I see person after person at the crag, going bolt to bolt, and never letting go. Onsighting 8b is common occurrence. After some interrogation as to how they get so fit. The secret; climb rock. Any chance you get. Climb rock. Gym? Rarely ever. Maybe to get some power. Sure, the elite train concurrently- in the gym and rock. But, in general, get outside and have fun is my interpretation.
While in Kalymnos, I was lucky enough to have some local Catalan friends, Steve and Marieta keep watch of my Kangoo. This allowed me to fly from Barcelona to Athens, then catch a ferry from Athens to Kos, then another boat from Kos to Kalymnos. Epic journey but better than driving from Barcelona to Greece, paying tolls and fuel along the way, and paying to get the car back and forth on ferry.
On return to Barcelona, Super Steve picked Doug and I up from the airport and brought us to their home. They cooked a wonderful meal, and offered us their motorhome bed for the night. The next night, was a party! Spanish style ‘pica-pica’. The party was for Marieta’s father’s involvement and dedication to their mountaineering club. Everybody brought a dish of food, and ate and drank the night away. I, myself on the other hand, drank too much wine too quickly, crashed and burned, and fell asleep before dessert. Lame.
The following three weeks was spent climbing around Catalunya. It was an unusually cold winter this year and I really struggled during December. I hate the cold, and don’t cope very well at all. I don’t think a day went past where I didn’t think about catching the next flight home. The thought of laying around on the beach with all my friends was so much more appealing than sleeping in my car, waking up to frozen water bottes near my head. I would wake up in the morning, dreading the thought of getting out from my doona and two sleeping bag system, only to begin my layer system- thermal trousers, trousers, leg warmers, two thermals, windstopper, down jacket, scarf, beanie and gloves. Eating breakfast outside in temps of sub two, sometimes in snow, were not the ideal start to the day. Climbing at the crag was not feasible pre midday or post 4pm, because the rock would be ice any earlier, or dark any later. I found it almost impossible to warm up and get muscle fibres firing. My hands were numb. My feet numb. My shoulders and neck felt constantly tensed. Any time out of bed was spent shivering. Terrible for recovery. Terrible for trying to redpoint. Terrible for motivation. Terrible for my happiness. Terrible for my soul!
By some miracle, I did manage to do some climbing. There were some key south facing areas, if on a clear day, were bearble. “Perfect conditions” to some, not so perfect for others.
Terradets: Bruixes
An amazing ‘wave’ looking wall which is slightly overhanging and densely concentrated with about 50 routes from grade 7a-8b. Perfect for winter. This cliff is classic limestone, intermittently dispersed with tufas. Chose a grade, see if it’s free, get on, and chances are, it’s an amazing rockclimb! The climbing is generally pumpy and consistent, with cruxes, but not complete stoppers. So, if you are fit, go for the onsight! The tufa climbing is less three-dimensional than Rodellar and Kalymnos, but still a lot of fun.
I must admit, all routes I did on this wall were great, but no one line blew me away. There are still many more routes on my wish list here, but there are a few I managed to tick off. Oh, and I must do a “thanks” to the ‘Terradets Hotel’ café where I spent hour after hour, day after day using their free wifi. Heaters. And drinking good café con leché with pastries. Saviour from the cold during nights of -10 deg.
Jam session 7b onsight
Orient 7c onsight
Occident 7c+
Derribos Arias 7b+
Energia Positiva 7c+ flash
Latido del Miedo 8a (completed post Christmas)
Montgrony
After my first day at Montgrony I would have said “I blame Doug” for the visit. But now, I suppose I should say “I thank Doug”. Montgrony has a famous route called “Aromes du Montgrony”. Doug was told about it from a friend back home and at any chance he could talk about it, he would. Rumour was, if you like tufas, this is the ultimate. Montgrony is completely south facing and at 1300m; meaning damn cold on a cloudy winter’s day.
On the first day, the sun was out and there were about 30 people at the crag. One other girl was trying to redpoint it, while her friend was on a rope trying to take pictures. She looked strong. She was little, but strong, with ‘Fixe’ and ‘Tenaya” all over her- like a sponsored climber. Hmm. My chances were not looking good after she fell, and told me how this route ‘had cost [her] a lot”. I later found out it took her 10 attempts, despite being an 8b+ climber.
My first time up this route was epic! It took me what felt like hours to gain the mere 30m. The headspace I was in, was not very productive. This route is a powerful 8a+ with three distinct sections. The first third climbs the combination of three separate tufas. Unravelling an efficient sequence proved to be quite technical and unlikely. Before leading into the second third of the route, there is a ledge, where you get an awkward crouch/no hands rest. Soon after embarking the second third of climbing, a deep pump settles in up the pure pinching of a singular tufa, which widens as you gain height. The top of this tufa widens to an almost “body humping’ size in which you compress with your knees and palms. I hated this section. I went up this route once on the first day, unable to work past this section. I took fall, after fall, after fall.
On the second day, I managed to dog my way to the top twice. I was exhausted and sore and this route felt utterly impossible. I was able to complete the top third, which is tricky face climbing on good holds after a good, awkward rest. At the end of the day, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do. I really wanted to do the route, but at the same time I was hating it. It was so powerful! And ugly thrutching/humping. And hard!
So the next day, I found a swimming pool to do some laps and some stretching. To stay warm, I stayed in a café for a couple of hours, drinking coffee, eating pastries and playing chess. The temperature in the town of Ripoll was literally freezing! Terrible resting temps!
Doom day. I wanted to leave Montgrony as soon as possible. I wanted to go somewhere warmer because the forecast was to get arctic. This final cloudy day, Doug and I were the only people at the crag. I tried to warm up wearing a pair of thermal pants, trousers, woollen leg warmers, two thermal jumpers and two beanies. After a short rest, I decided to go for it. Confidence and morale was low on embarking the redpoint, but I managed to fight my way through the bottom two thirds. At the awkward rest before the final head wall, I shook out and shook out but was chronically pumped, with completely numb feet. I had to just go. I am so embarrassed at how badly I climbed this last section of rock- it was appalling! My numb feet kept popping off holds! So I was cutting loose and gripping on as hard as I possibly could. Then I would thrutch to the next hold, and not be able to get my feet up, and stuff the sequence up. Then my feet would blow again. Oh! I thought I was off for sure- each and every last move for the last eight metres. Miraculously, I clipped the chains and descended. On landing, Doug yelled at me for taking five years off his life.
Santa Linya
The cave where the strong men play. If I could climb 8b and up, I would love this place. But at the moment, unfortunately, I can’t. Maybe one day? On my first day here, I felt like such a bumbly! I was surrounded by the world’s best sport climbers, hiking up 8b+, 8c second go. Edu Marin almost sent his 9a link up three times in one day, and I was falling my way up a 7c+.
The climbing in the Santa Linya cave is solid and powerful. The 7a I was trying to warm up on has a dyno from a two finger pocket at the top. The cave is steep, with holds really far apart, and not a lot of good feet.
I have spent about four days climbing in this cave, and done one 7a, in terms of climbing. In terms of viewing, I saw Chris Sharma complete his long standing project, Neanderthal. It was quite surreal really. Everyone in the cave stopped what they were doing, and watched as Chris climbed one of the hardest sport routes in the world. The camera was rolling. The yelling was switched on. And he climbed to the top of the cave. It’s absolutely mind boggling as to how hard that route is, and how it is possible for the human body to accomplish such a feat.
At first I was disheartened as to how weak I felt. But in hindsight, I leave knowing I can get better. A lot better. I watched a lot of very strong, talented people do amazing things over those few days. It made me realise how high the standard is, and has inspired me to be a better climber. Reality is, I have a lot of work to do!
Oliana
For full value of this cliff, the ability to climb 8b is a minimum. However, it was rumoured there was a classic 8a, ‘Mishi’ definitely worth the drive for. So, the journey was made via an amazing bakery in Artesa, along with two English friends, Neil and Ruth.
I spent two days on Mishi, and for the first time ever, I needed to take ibuprofen to relieve the intense burning sensation of my fingertips! There is a bouldery crux start, leading into an almost vertical head wall of about 30m. Post crux, there was my own personal crux. A thrutchy, awkward, reachy sequence on sharp holds after a decent run out. I tried this section time and time again, loosing precious layer after layer of skin. Sheer pain and frustration!
Sending day involved a warm up and dogging session. Then a nap and laze about in the sun, until shade on the cliff at about 5pm. Then redpoint! Such relief!
Post Christmas Spain stint
After Christmas (I’ll blog this adventure seperately) I returned to Spain to get pumped. During the Christmas/New Year period, Doug and I Ieft our car with some new found friends- Team Britain; Tom, Lynne and Alan. This British trio live with about half a dozen chickens, three dogs- one giant Schnauzer; Harry, Ellie (who was on heat while we were there, meaning super snappy) and poor little Dillan. During our stay, they also acquired a stray cat- now named Baldrick. I like to call this humble abode- Farmville in Vilanova de la Sal.
Team Britain were kind enough to offer us a roof over our heads for the icy winter period of January. It was so amazing to have a house to go back to at the end of a climbing day, especially after my near breakdown over December. However, Farmville in Vilanova de la Sal is not perfect. Spanish houses are not built for winter- meaning insulation and heating are abysmal. This one house felt like a house with extension after extension. No natural light. No insulation. No heaters, just one fireplace, which even my 10 year old sister could have engineered better. I swear there were days it was colder in the house than out. Returning from a climbing day and starting a fire was epic. It was epic, but at least we could start a fire. And use a kitchen, instead of squat around an MSR in the dirt outside…
It was a good team system really. Team Britain would work late, and return at around 11pm some nights. So, in return for a roof, each night, Doug would start a fire and I would start the evening meal. So, come home time, the table would have freshly baked muffins, bread, soup, pumpkin pie, cupcakes... curry....pizza...apple crumble...much to Alan’s dismay (who was on a diet- as every second sport climber is).
Majority of crags in Catalunya were wet after the Christmas period, all bar one- Disblia. I spent every climbing day here, minus two in just over two weeks.
I felt pretty rusty for the first couple of days, after having three weeks off over Christmas. After a few routes, some fitness returned and I started to seige Patiasso al Pallaso. Patiasso is meant to be the classic 8a of the crag. There are a set of chains at a semi good hold, which gets a separate grade of 7c+, or you continue through a bouldery crux up a shield. This extra grade cost me numerous days, and so much frustration! I spent the most amount of time on this route, than any other route IN MY LIFE. No exaggeration. I didn’t think I would ever do this route. Each time I went up, I would only progress half a crux move, if that. I had no power endurance- I knew it was bad because each time I fell, I needed a couple minutes to try and catch my breath from holding it for so long. So, it was my last climbing day before I had to leave for Paris. I had just taken a rest day. I warmed up and felt like Super Woman. I was determined not to add another unfinished project to the Europe list- I sent Patiasso al Pallaso first go. Psyched. I then tried a 7c+ to the right of it and failed twice. Not so psyched. Didn’t feel like Super Woman for long...
My last night in Spain was spent at Farmville- sharing a good meal and good wine with Team Britain, plus Neil and Ruth- an English couple I met in Rodellar. It was another sad moment in the morning when I had to say farewell. I have come to dread these moments more and more. I enjoy so much meeting the amazing characters that have made this trip so memorable. Each and every person brings their own dynamic, as annoying or seemingly insignificant it may seem at the time, but when reflected on later, is fondly remembered and appreciated. As much as I enjoy the climbing in Spain, I appreciate the atmosphere and the wonderful people I have spent my time with more than any other destination. So, on departure for Fontainebleau, I borrowed a pad from Team Britain- certain I would return! Too scared to say “Good-bye” but rather, “see you later”.
Dre.
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