English man in Font

Almost exactly one month ago I did Gecko and I tried to the sit start with the hope of one day doing it. At the time I couldn’t do one of the moves, a move that required flexible hips and a dose of heelhooking power. The rest of it seemed ok, but this particular move just didn’t work. My body was no good.

What happened today was a direct consequence of only a few weeks stretching. I wasn’t even sure it was the stretching, but it was confirmed by the look on Lucas’ face when he saw me do it. I’m still not flexible enough to do the move easily and it seems like it will be move that will feel hard on the link but it won’t be a stopping point. In fact, it was a breakthrough moment when I managed to do it. It was as if it came out of nowhere. From an unstable position, with an unstable heelhook, suddenly my body fell into a position which felt just about workable and I could reach up with my right hand. I also found another key piece of beta, which was switching out of a velcro and into a dragon. I guess the narrower and tighter heel region gave me a little bit of extra grip, which meant I could pull on it slightly longer and it enabled me to shift by body upwards. By moving up higher into the move I managed to perform the crucial manoeuvre of releasing my left knee from being near my right ankle to being nearly on the left side of my body. It’s certainly not a pretty sight to witness, my knee scraping the rock, desperately trying to push itself leftwards and force my hips to open up. It’s accompanied by a shooting pain in my right knee and then a ripping feeling in my hip region. That’s when I know I’m in the right position.

Tyler arrived yesterday and we were talking about climbers who came up through the ranks and reached the top but then disappeared into obscurity. It seems like it takes a great deal of effort to get to the top in the climbing world, and once people arrive there, there is nothing waiting. There are no bright lights, no money, no fame, nothing. It’s a completely self interested goal. So why do people put in the effort? The effort is all invested simply for the process in my opinion. Everything we learn is along the way and not at the summit. I think there’s some quote about grass growing on the sides of mountains and not on the top… that probably applies here to what I’m trying to say. Or maybe it’s what Nietzsche said “On the mountains of truth you can never climb in vain: either you will reach a point higher up today, or you will be training your powers so that you will be able to climb higher tomorrow”. Whatever quote I may be trying to allude to, the meaning is the same. Everything is learnt in the process, and perhaps this makes it a pure goal rather than doing it for the fame, the reward, or the prize at the end. To be honest, I really don’t know and these are just late night thoughts.

The other thing we talked about was how the only person who pushed an individual forward is that individual. Climbing is a pretty lonely discipline. Climbing isn’t a team sport like football, baseball, volleyball. It’s a lonely path where the only person pushing you out of bed in the morning is your own desire to succeed on climbing a path upwards on a piece of rock. It’s not a lofty feat, it’s not an earth changing objective, but it satisfies us. It’s something that binds together almost all the people who are reading this. When you’re feeling low on motivation there is no team that can rally together and pull you out of it, you simply have to dig deeper within and push forward. Perhaps this is why there is a distinct line between great climbers and those who didn’t quite make it. The greats have this drive, this passion, the ability to accept there will be lows along the way, but more importantly the insight and desire to know they will get themselves out of it. I’d be surprised if there was a single top climber in the whole world who is super motivated every single day to go climbing and has been for the past number of years. To dip is part of the human psyche. It can be brought on by a myriad of factors, but the most important thing is to move on out of it. Maybe this is the reason why climbers reach the top, or near the top, but then move away from climbing. I can’t think of more than a handful of climbers who have remained at the top for a number of years. Perhaps the most notable is Fred Nicole, who has been pushing things forward since the early 90’s. This is a feat worth stopping and appreciating. It’s genuinely incredible. In my opinion the road upwards is much easier to walk than the indefinite path from the top. With a definitive goal, a higher grade to chase, an object to put on the end of the stick, things are simpler than looking into a mist from which nothing is easily discernable.

I came to font with a goal, but wasn’t snatching at it with two hands pushed forward. My goal was like a point in the future that I figured would just arrive when the time was right, and I felt like it didn’t need chasing. The goal was to do an 8B+ here in the forest. I thought it would either be Gecko assis or perhaps Dune, but after a few weeks of being here I fell into a low. As I wrote previously, I like to arrive and do lots of easier problems, getting into the flow of things, building myself up both physically and mentally. Going from one major battle to the next is really hard work and sometimes it doesn’t seem worth it. My last climbing trip in November/December was an epic process that culminated in a last day send of Amber. It was a long and drawn out process which kind of took it out of me. I didn’t want to start another battle here in the forest, not yet anyway. I feel like I haven’t really climbed anything since I’ve been here and I don’t even know why. I’ve tried some things but without the conviction of a man possessed. Why am I not possessed? I knew that Gecko assis would be possible if I did some stretching and today I saw the result of that stretching. I did the move that only a few weeks ago seemed impossible. Now I have no barriers standing in my way. I have only to deal with my own desire, my motivation, my goals, and my own shortcomings. I think it’s possible that I can climb this problem. No, I’m certain that if I’m mentally strong enough then I will be physically strong enough. I’m not at the battle station just yet, but I’m preparing for it. I’m nearly ready to remove my cape and rush headlong into the challenge.

It was lazy of me to harbour desires of doing 8B+ but not put in the effort of going and trying it. I thought that 8B+ would come and find me when the time was right, but I was so wrong. The thought of success lingered in the forefront of my mind whilst the hard work of doing it remained in the back. Gecko assis is out there and it’s waiting for me. It’s waiting to be crushed. Not just by me either. I’d wager that in the next month or so it will be slayed by a few men hungry for battle…

The past week has been very mixed in terms of meteorological conditions. There’s been a lot of rain, but also a lot of wind, which has resulted in often being  tantalisingly close to good conditions. Days have been spent seeking out the singular dry pieces of rock and some days have been more succesfull than others.

One of these days saw us back up at Cuvier Ouest to try Imothep again. In the days that passed since my previous attempt I’d managed to convince myself that the heelhook wasn’t all that hard to get and that I would despatch it with consummate ease on my next attempt. Nothing could be further from the truth. I had 3 or 4 attempts, struggling each time with the heelhook, and then made an executive decision to call it a day. It’s annoying because Imothep is a very cool feature which I’d like to climb. Perhaps after my stretching regimen is complete I’ll go back and laugh at how pitiful I once was…

Another day was spent umming and ahhing about what to do and where to go. We were stood in the garage watching it switch from blue skies to rain clouds every 15 minutes. We’d suddenly get all hopeful at the sight of blue skies all the way to the horizon, begin to form a plan, then boom! Rain would pour down and saturate everything. After an hour or so of this I decided we should head to something both super fast drying and with a lofty mount to take advantage of the strong winds. Rempart had been crossed off the list after we received a text saying it had begun pouring with rain which then turned into a hailstorm, so the other option was Ubik. Chris had done the stand start only a few days ago, so we were both keen to get over there and complete the line. Last year I spent one session on the sit start but couldn’t fathom out one move which linked the lower section into the stand start.

This year things were different (in part thanks to a video of Olivier Lebreton beasting the sit start). I found some good beta that enabled me to climb into the crux and was falling whilst trying to bring my right hand into the start of the stand. The crux revolves around bring your right foot onto a small but good hold and then standing up into the left hand undercut which was only a moment ago above your head. In order to stick the next move your left foot must navigate outwards onto a positive smear and once it sticks on you’re in a position to slap over into the right hand pocket. The left hand undercut which you move up into is a strange one. When you initially grab it your body is down and right, so pulling on it it somewhat awkward. Only once you get up a little bit more and shift your weight leftwards does it then give something away. Due to the undercut also being above head height when you first reach it, it happens that you pull across it and not upwards from it. What this meant was that there was some strange skin torque going on. I was at first pulling across my tips and then into them. The skin torque was hurting my ring and pinky fingertips, rendering them a little numb after each attempt. I’d begun redpoint attempts because I knew I could get through the moves and then it was a matter of flowing up the top section. I was feeling fairly good on the moves, which is a small relief as I’m generally feeling a little heavy at the moment. My body doesn’t feel lithe and smooth on the rock, it feels somewhat ungainly, and this is something which is contributing to my lack of enjoyment I think. In some ways I feel like I’m lacking an aggressive snap in my climbing, the kind of snap that you get from climbing on steep boards. Maybe this is just a psychological barrier that I’m tricking myself into believing so I go back to some training instead of continuing my adventures on the rocks. Who knows.

I had a good go on Ubik and was up into the crux move from the sit start but then I didn’t quite stand up with the correct right foot vector wich then meant I couldn’t get my left foot on which made the move impossible (for me). I hadn’t done the crux right hand move over into the pocket, but didn’t feel a need to do it on it’s own because I knew I would do it on the link if I climbed a little better. Chris suggested that I should do the move on it’s own in order to make sure I had it sorted, and I didn’t think it was such a bad idea. I pulled on, moved the right foot up, placed it on at the correct angle, pushed my left foot outwards, glued it to the hold, then crushed the move. I knew I could do it and I had it, great. Not great. I looked at my left hand and the horrendous skin torque had caused something very bad to happen. Just as some of the great mountain ranges were formed, my skin had undergone a similarly violent force of nature. On the once smooth skin of my ring finger there was now a skin mountain range running along my tip. It was as if a few layers of skin down, the binding force between layers had given up, and so the torque applied by the undercut had pulled several layers of my skin along, leaving a hole at one end of my tip, and a mountain range at the other. I couldn’t really feel it since it was numb, but it was clear I wouldn’t be climbing again for a few days. I was somewhat annoyed but not surprised. I’m no longer surprised when my skin gives up and does these strange things. I’ve come to accept it. I was annoyed because I felt like I could have done Ubik Assis with some more goes, but this is part of my love affair with rock climbing. Sometimes it’s so good and sometimes my skin gives up it’s desire to be close to rock.

What does a man with a destroyed tip do on a Friday night in Fontainebleau? Party in Paris of course. Sara had come down for the weekend and it didn’t take much convincing to get her keen for a party at the Rex club. The night was a celebration of 5 years of Great Stuff label, and the music didn’t disappoint. The club is cool, the sound system is great, and the people friendly… sometimes a little too friendly. The one thing that came as a severe shock was the price of drinks. I don’t normally spend much money when partying because all I need is a constant supply of water, which ranges from free to cheap. Sara went to the bar and managed to get some tap water from a begrudging barman. At this point we realised why it only cost €10 to get into such a great club… it’s all subsidised by the people who are drinking. Man oh man. A small bottle of Evian was €7. A can of red bull on it’s own was €10. A tiny glass of beer was €14. etc etc.  Still, the bar wasn’t foolish. They knew the basic principle of economies of scale and so they also sold 70cl bottles of whiskey/rum/etc. How much? €150. Yes. That’s correct. It was ridiculous and I made a mental note that all the people around us with drinks were either rich, stupid, or both. However, even with such ridiculous prices for beverages, it was a good club and I’ll be going back for another party at some point during this stint in Font. We stayed until the night ended and the beat no longer moved our bodies. Even though I was a bit tired by the end I had no desire to leave as the music was really nice. If I find the set I’ll post up a link at some point, or if you find it then post a link in the comments!

Now I’m simply waiting for my tip to heal and today spent time watching Sara cruise around the circuits. This afternoon we returned to Apremont and I had a flashback. It all came flooding back to me… my first ever font trip with Neil and James… I’d walked up here on my own to check out some problems (Psychose, Marginal, etc) and it was then that I’d spotted my first ever boar. In fact, I spotted 4/5 small baby boar in a hollow under a rock and instantly realised the danger I was in. I’d walked away slowly trying not to bump into their mother… and so it was that my healthy respect (fear) of boar began. As I remember all of this today I recounted the story to Sara and looked around us at all the signs of boar activity. I knew we couldn’t be far from boar and sure enough within a few minutes we saw one pop up about 10 metres away and then run off down the hill. I know locals who’ve never seen a boar in these forests, which seems totally insane when I consider how often I see the beasts. Perhaps they can smell my fear, I mean respect, or perhaps I just have some affinity with the boar that I am yet to understand. Whatever it may be I’ll be remaining ever vigilant and boar sightseeing tours will soon be an option via unclesomebody.com.

The past few days have seen a flurry of rain and not a lot of climbing. I even resorted to climbing in the board because I felt so bad not climbing for 2 days in a row when my skin was ok. Climbing on a board served as a harsh reminder about how different the two disciplines of rock and wood are.

On the board I didn’t feel all that strong. I felt ok whilst climbing but the day after I was sore in the shoulders and had the impression that I’d been worked. I didn’t mind that feeling, in fact, I quite enjoyed it. My theory is that I get weaker when climbing on rock for prolonged periods of time, but at the same time I get better at rock climbing. Basic things like front levers, one armers, etc probably settle at their midpoint whilst I’m rock climbing. Whilst in the board I decided to find out where I was in this respect. I couldn’t do a flat front lever whilst I had my shoes on, but could without them. What this means is that I’m barely strong enough to be doing front levers… still, at least I could do it. Next were one armers. It’s been a long time since I’ve done any one armers so I didn’t know what to expect, but found I could do an acceptable 4 on each arm. This is probably somewhere around my mid level. With more training I could do more but the questions of why is the correct one. One armers are the bi-product of spending lots of time rock climbing and nothing more.

After a couple of board sessions I was aching to be back on rock (quite literally). Yesterday Chris and I drove around the whole forest, seemingly 10 mins ahead of the rain. We’d arrive at a dry crag, get out of the car and then feel the first raindrops coming in. Five minutes later the crag would be drenched and we’d be driving towards the blue skies on the horizon. We did this for a while but then realised we were two donkey’s chasing the carrot and so headed back to base.

Today was supposed to be a somewhat bad day, with rain forecast in coughs and spurts. We headed out for Rempart as it was one of the few places we thought would be dry. Turns out we were 50% correct. Everything facing the sun was pretty much dry and everything spurning the sun was saturated. My aching body was pleading for a gentle warm up and it nearly got it. A few laps on the first 5 in the forest was nice and then a couple of 7A/+ got things going. The aim of the day was to get T-Rex, 7C+/8A, done. It’s a very cool boulder and I’d avoided trying it on previous trips because I’d been told that it was both hard and had a bad landing. As it turns out, neither of these things are true, so I can wholeheartedly encourage you to go and do it! My previous attempt (just a few days ago) had been with the tank empty and today the tank was somewhat full, so I expected (once again it rears it’s ugly head) it to go down easily . Why I have these expectations I don’t know, and I’m beginning to think they are ruining the fun. We got on with it, and were faced with a small problem when it came to the last move. I’d got all the beta for the different methods, but they all felt unfeasible with the exception of the full on jump method, which felt intimidating. After a little word with myself I just went for it and missed the hold but by commiting to the jump I’d overcome the intimidation factor. Amazingly you fall straight down missing both of the neighbouring rocks, which is a relief. Now I just had to link it from the start and all would be well. After pulling on and doing the first move there is a foot move that requires a high step with the right foot. Clearly my stretching isn’t working as fast as I would like and I couldn’t get my foot high enough. It’s really pitiful when I think just how inflexible I am (but it shall change!). After some fooling around and many lame goes I found the trick. All I had to do was ninja jump my foot up to the hold, which only worked because the foothold I was aiming for was fairly large. Once I found this beta I knew I could do the problem. Yes, I knew. I expected it and so it was then a matter of execution and an implementation of rock climbing skills. So failure to ascend would be a failure of my ability to rock climb well.

The rain looked like it might be coming in and I felt a phantom drop on my face. I announced this fact to Chris and so he turned it on, pulled on, then cruised to the top! Perhaps he just needed the pressure? I tried to hitch a ride on his success but it didn’t work. Luckily the rain drop had been a singularity and no more rain followed it down. I kept trying and made it past the foot jump move only to fall at the last jump at the end! I fumbled the hold and plummeted downward. I couldn’t believe that I’d fallen on that move, but still felt like I would get it done. The goes passed and my ninja foot jump went from a 20% move to a 90% one, and I fell a further 3 times on the final jump! My skin was now beginning to hurt and I really felt like I was puntering it up hard. The horizon was changing and the blue skies retreated to the onslaught of big grey clouds. The wind started to pick up and we both knew that it was about to pour down with rain. One more go. Just execute. Just climb it well. It sounds so simple doesn’t it? I pulled on as I had on all my previous go’s. I felt no stronger, no calmer, no better… but I launched for the final hold and managed to keep hold of it. I topped out, felt less joy than relief, and walked back down. Once I got back to the ground the first drops started to fall and within 3 minutes the boulder was saturated. Phew.

T-Rex is an amazing problem and I’m annoyed that I don’t feel happier about doing it. I’m not sure what’s going on at the moment but I’m not feeling a whole lot of joy when I’m getting to the top of these perfect sandstone blocs. Whilst I ponder on these matters, trying to get to the bottom of it all, I’ll do the only thing I can/want… go climbing on 5 star boulders!
Unfortunately, boar sightings have been low, but that doesn’t mean they have been far from my daily life. Today I discovered that in Carrefour they have magazines dedicated to the mighty Sanglier.

I also saw this passion in the meat section where this head was supposed to encourage people to buy boar meat.

It’s been a few days since I’ve posted anything and the prevailing days have been a mix of saturation from snow melt and dampness. The rain came and melted the snow, which drowned all the soil and caused my feet to become sodden. The forest is back to it’s normal appendage but I liked it’s white ball gown and hope to see it again. I managed a short day at Bas Cuvier repeating the classics but there was little else dry and so it wasn’t really a day of climbing.

Today the sky was blue and the rocks were dry. The temperature was somewhere around 4C and there was even a slightly cool wind lapping at our backs. In short, conditions felt very good. After having been climbing in sub zero temperatures for the past 10 days it came as a relief to not have to worry about whether or not the water in my car would thaw at some point during the day. Today also re-affirmed to me that the best conditions in font are not when it’s sub zero, but when it’s somewhere between 0-5C and there is a small amount of wind to kiss the holds. This way your skin is not so rigid from the cold, it is malleable and able to grip the fine grains of the rock.

Chris Schulte arrived from the states yesterday and he was ever keen to go to Rempart so he could be reacquainted with his desire. I’m always keen for Rempart as there is a plethora of hard 5 star boulders to do there, more so than perhaps any other crag in font. Our first destination was the Big Five. I’ve still got a dream to complete these 5 glorious boulders but Big Golden seems beyond me. How a powerful 7C+ can be beyond me I don’t know, but I never seem to feel good on it. I’m looking forward to go there with a local who can show me the secret beta, thus making it feel easy, but I’m also afraid that this will simply not materialise. After trying the 7A to the right of Atresie (and giving up might I add) I turned my attention to Atresie.

Atresie is once again an embodiment of the glory of font climbing. It is powerful, burly, and subtle. The kneebar/scum requires the correct placement of the the right foot, the right knee, and the hips, and when all the variables are maximised it becomes possible. I had approximately 5 goes and the final one resulted in my best ever go, which unfortunately wasn’t me getting to the top. It was small progress though and I am very sure I can do this boulder. I tried to pull on again but the knee bar was too painful and so I left it at that. I had some furtive attempts at Big Golden but, as usual, it felt very hard to impossible. One day… From there we moved down to the main meat, Kheops.

Conditions on Kheops felt great. I felt like I could pull much more than my previous session and I felt like I had a good chance today. I’d been thinking a lot about it, about why it’s a difficult bloc and why I hadn’t done the crux move. The crux move is complicated and this is best seen by the number of different ways that people execute is. There are 3 main schools of thought (perhaps 4) which are; left toe on, right toe on (a la Graham). left toe on, right heel on (a la Lopata). left toe off, right toe on (a la Lebreton). The third is the most powerful but the most basic and the other two are perhaps physically easier but require a much more complicated understand of the positions. Needless to say I thought I’d opt for the simple approach. I did try the left toe on, right heel on method and it just felt awkward. Perhaps I could make it work but It would require a breakthrough in understanding. I felt like I was perhaps at the door of understanding but didn’t have the key today. So instead of searching the keychain for the right key I simply started pounding the door with my fists (metaphorically speaking of course!). The more powerful method did feel good some goes and I felt very close to the move, but Chris brought me back down to la terre by saying he also thought he was very close doing it that way until he worked the heel method and then sent the problem soon after! I’m also being slightly different by not using the right hand crimp. Not only do I disdain small crimps, but I can’t use them for the sake of my skin. I even tried to pull on to it today with the crimp and my body wouldn’t let me tolerate the pain. I’m just not into small holds… for better or for worse. What this means is that I’m using a sloper further right which shifts my position on the arete and means my right hand must travel a greater distance in the horizontal plane, which is why I think I was struggling.

Trying Kheops is a psychologically difficult battle in my opinion. Due to the one move nature of the bloc, it is easy to leave disillusioned at having not done any climbing. It seems like it’s not possible to go there and make great progress, or put in good links. It seems to me that one day I will go there and do it. That’s hard to bear because before you do it, you simply fail session after session, and we all know that is bad for the psyche. Progress is the fuel that drives us forward and on a very simplistic level, a session on Kheops doesn’t often yield progress. I don’t really feel like today’s session gave me any insight into the boulder, but this could easily be due to the fact I wasn’t climbing awarely enough. I’ll certainly be going back to try it again as it’s a wonderful line and I’ll be listening very carefully to what it has to say. Perhaps it will throw me a line.

After finishing with Kheops, or rather, it finished me, I decided I was done for the day. However, being Chris’ first day he was keen to keep the ball rolling and we ended up at T-Rex. I approached it with energy levels close to zero but hopeful that psyche would push me through, and it did get me to a certain point but not to the top. I don’t think it’s a very difficult bloc, but I do think it’s a very good bloc, and another fine, fine problem at Rempart. There really is SO much up there which is why I can’t resist going back. I’ll be heading back to do T-Rex, amongst other things, and hopefully a full tank will see the send.

One thing that has been on my mind, or rather, not on my mind is the lack of topping out that I’ve been experiencing. As I wrote upon my arrival, I wanted to get into my trip with a slew of easier problems, with a peak towards the middle/end. Instead I got stuck in straight away and this certainly has a psychological affect on my state of being. Constantly trying problems of 8A and above means I often fail to do things quickly which leaves me with the feeling of not having climbing. It is often the case that one move (the last) can change a bad day out into a good day out. Only one move. If you get to the top you feel a physical boost and of course a mental boost. Failing at the last move can sometimes work negatively, even though it should be recognised that you climbed whatever you are trying all the way to the penultimate move. The final mount, the standing on top, the surmounting of the boulder is a great feeling (sometimes) and it’s certainly something I’ve been missing. I’m missing the feeling of topping out. My triceps are begging me to be utilised and I’m letting them down. I’m really hoping that I can clean up a few of the hardish things I’ve tried and so move forward full of confidence. As it is I’m a little apprehensive of going to try other projects as I’m going to get spread as thin as a crepe. Perhaps a week of focus on things I can definitely climb will put me in a better place. Perhaps I just want to top out something so I can remember what it feels like to feel completion. I think I’m just missing that feeling right now.

That being said, I did go and have a look at Elephunk which was then added to my to do list… When will it stop growing and start shrinking?

The perfect conditions continue to sit over the forest and tease me ever forward toward hard blocs. Today was saturday, which means that certain crags like Cuvier are out of the question. Saturday is a day to go to the places where you aren’t going to be battling for pad space, struggling to hear the birds, or having to endure the beta of a thousand voices. With that in mind we decided to head down to Gorge du Houx.

I walked down there alone, planning on meeting Neil and the Menegatti brothers a little later in the afternoon. The long, straight, snow covered path looked beautiful as it was zebra stripped with sunlight piercing through the trees. Today’s choice mix was the Sound of the Ninth Season and it was perfect. Whilst walking down there I realised it was a great choice of crag as I had the forest all to myself, which resulted in me busting out the occasional dance move. Before I even saw the goal of the day, Londinium, I had a good feeling. Today was a special day. I can’t explain in words the exact feeling, but amongst the trees, the snow, the blue sky, and the beautiful blocs I experienced a very nice solitude. It wasn’t loneliness, but a really nice solitude. I left all my stuff at Londinium and spent 30 minutes walking around taking photos, then ditched the camera and decided I wanted to go exploring and try to find some boar.

It’s been ages since I’ve seen any boar and if I want to retain my title as boar tracker, master of the boar, boar king, etc then I darn well better be able to find some. Off I went in search of the first sign… footprints. It didn’t take long to find numerous sets of footprints in the snow and looking around I chose a random direction then followed the biggest prints I could find. I was walking up a hill still listening to Sven Vaeth work his magic and not really thinking that perhaps listening to techno whilst searching for boar was a bad idea. It was only another 5 minutes later when I found some boar poo that I took the headphones off (still playing) and began to get in the zone. I reached down to test the poo, but it was cold. In these conditions the poo could well have been freezing rapidly so this wasn’t necessarily a bad sign. It certainly looked quite fresh. I kept following my nose and my toes, until I found another load of boar poo. This wasn’t yet frozen and I knew I was close. My headphones were around my neck and I could hear the distant beat of Microworld, but I was also beginning to tune in to the forest. At this point I began to tread very silently, onwards and upwards. I maintained a sensible level of caution but pressed on thinking that a boar couldn’t be far away. Sure enough, within a few minutes I saw one, but he’d heard me first and so when I spotted him he was 10 metres away and prancing through the foliage in the opposite direction. I was quite made up with this sighting. I still had my skills. At this point I decided I could continue my quest into the unknown or make a bee line back to Londinium to see if the others had arrived. Whilst trying to take the most direct line I came across fresh boar tracks, then a load of fresh poo, and my spidey (boar) sense was suddenly at code red. I went dark. My footprints became silent, my headphones too, and my body took me onward. I suddenly rounded a corner to see a natural cave in the rock, but from my vantage point I couldn’t quite see within it. I stood very still and made a loud noise, something like that of a dying giraffe, thinking that it might elicit a response if there was a boar inside. No reaction. I took another few steps forward, but my ninja shoes weren’t ninja enough and the boar must have picked me up. All of a sudden I hear the hooves gathering speed and out came a huge boar. I did what any self respecting man would do in this situation, I turned and ran onto a pointy boulder that I knew the boar wouldn’t be able to climb. When I turned round I had a wonderful vista of the hillside and across it was sprinting one of the biggest boars I’ve ever seen. What shocked me most was not the size but the speed. This thing was fast. It was running down hill, over logs, fallen trees, through foliage, and all at the speed of Usain Bolt on every performance enhancing drug known to man. I watched as it ran all the way down, leaping with such grace, until it hit the valley floor and disappear into the trees there. I was a bit taken aback but really happy with this second sighting. It wasn’t a glimpse, it was a proper performance viewing. After this the headphones remained off and I walked gingerly back to Londinium to see that Neil had just arrived, closely followed by Nils and Lucas.

All this excitement and the climbing hadn’t even began! Neil wanted to do a 7B+/C called Ecaille de Lune. It’s a fairly nice little problem and made a good warm up as I managed to do the moves in a variety of ways, one of which was truly excellent (but not the easiest method so it will never get repeated like that!). After this we walked back towards londinium with a quick stop at De la Terre a la Lune, 7C/+. This problem was the last thing I tried on my 2008 trip, which was on a hot April day. I didn’t manage to do it, finding that I couldn’t hold on to one of the pinches. I’d left thinking it can’t be too easy for the grade, but today Lucas told me it was very easy for the grade. Hmmm… Lucas demonstrated it with consummate ease but that certainly didn’t mean it was easy! I also found out that it’s a jumpstart in the middle (ie. to the big hold) so where I was trying to start last year is an (obvious) extension. My first go saw me at the pinch which seemed horrendous last year, but clearly in sub zero conditions the conditions were much better, and after a little foot trouble I was at the top! This is a 5 star boulder problem and should be on everyone’s tick list.

Onwards to Londinium! I was feeling pretty good, although my left bicep is suffering from Kheops syndrome (ie. rather sore), and the day was going well so far. Londinium changed all that. It took me 10 goes just to remember how I did the first move, and when I did I then fell trying to move off the twin pinches. The right hand pinch is rather sharp and sure enough after only a few more goes my skin gave up and ripped. Only a small hole, but enough to stop play for the day. I wasn’t too disappointed as I was having a nice day at the rocks… not simply for the things I had climbed, but for the overall experience. Perhaps it was the music that had set my mood, but I really felt so lucky, so priveleged, and simply really happy to be in this amazing forest. The perfect conditions look set to stay for a couple of days so I’m going to try and get out on some slopers in the next day or two. I’m elated that conditions have been so perfect for the past 6 days, but I’m also annoyed because I don’t feel in the best shape to take advantage of them. Hopefully I’ll get another good spell in the next month or two and when it arrives I’ll be ready to ascend all the things that are awaiting my arrival.

Rather worryingly, snow seems to be attracted to me at the moment. It came down when I was in Switzerland and it’s come down in the past few days in Font. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that I’m attracted to places that are currently experiencing unusual levels of snow. Whatever the situation may be, the fact is that it’s been snowing. Fortunately I’ve learned to deal with snow rather well, from walking through it, to clearing it, and especially it’s relationship with rocks.

I didn’t climb yesterday but I did go out to clean some specific boulders that I want to climb. It only takes a small amount of mental aptitude to make foresight 20/20. Before the snow had a chance to melt I went to Rempart and cleaned it all off the top of Kheops then drove over to Rocher de Bouligny to clean the top of Gecko. The snow was still light and fluffy, so it came off without too much of a battle and I managed to stay on top without slipping off.

Today I woke up and conditions couldn’t have been better. Coldness certainly plays a role in the function of perfect conditions, but it’s definitely not linear. Beyond a certain point, more cold doesn’t really help you to stick to the rock, it just makes it harder to warm up enough. Personally, if my tips are cold they have zero grip. If they are warm and have blood fed to them then they stick like glue. I don’t know if that’s the same for everyone but it’s definitely true for me. Anyway, it was pretty cold yesterday with the car registering -6C throughout the day. Some others reported double digits of cold but I didn’t see them myself so I can’t comment. Today it was slightly warmer, at about -3C, and trying to act like a wise man I decided to warm up at home. I figured that the warm up at Bouligny would be snow covered and warming up on Gecko would most definitely be unprofessional. Why I have an obsession with being professional I don’t know. I guess it’s because the other option (amateur) is much worse. 15 minutes of fingerboarding and I felt ready to jump in the car and head to the rocks.

The ice road from Maisonbleau is turning into a little playground for me now that I’ve become more confident about driving on a sheet of ice. All the main roads are clear and dry so getting about is as rapid as ever (just in case you’re reading this and trying to decide about coming down this weekend!). I was listening to a wonderful Philippe Sherburne mix that had my head bopping, feet tapping (not whilst driving), hands clapping, and body jigging. I must have looked rather funny arriving at the rocks with my body convulsing! I met up with Lucas who has been trying the sit start and his father who was on spotting duty (not too cold for real men!). I’ve started getting into listening to my generic portable music player whilst walking around the forest, seemingly protected from the boars by a 4/4 beat, and why not? The peacefulness of the forest is all well and good when I’m climbing, but sometimes I like to mix that peacefulness with something like todays choice mix.

Climbing began and my skin was cold. Very cold. I had no purchase on the rocks and fell off very unexpectedly a few times. I’d come here to try the sit start to Gecko and after cartwheeling my arms around like a Catherine wheel I felt good enough to try and properly work the moves. The first move is a very easy cross over move, probably 4+. Sara could do it. The second move is a longish reach rightwards to a sculpted dish, which is probably about 6a. Then there is a fast rejig of the feet, culminating in a right foot heelhook. This is where the problems begin. Once my right heelhook is in place my balance feels all off, and as I try to bring my left leg back leftwards to open up my body, my right heel rips off because I’m not flexible enough to keep it there. By pulling my left foot leftwards, my inflexible hips demand that my right foot comes along for the ride. With the heelhook in place, a right hand movement sees your hand arrive at the starting hold as for the stand up start. Then you pull off your right heelhook, place a left heelhook, left hand to an intermediate, and then again to the hold from which your left hand begins the stand up. Now, I can very comfortably pull on with my right heel on, my right hand on the starting hold, and climb the next 3 moves into the stand start and upwards. This presents no problem for me. I can also climb the first two easy moves into the heelhook. I can’t, for the love of wonderful sandstone blocs, do the right hand move upwards with the heelhook in place. It’s nothing to do with strength, skill or even technique. It’s to do with inflexible hips. I am absolutely sure that I can do this boulder problem in one more session if I can stretch my hips enough to allow me to do this move. I figure it’s going to take a few weeks of stretching to get to that stage so I’m now armed with a goal and a plan. I’ll get flexible like a 13 year old Chinese gymnast and then head back to send. This is expectation.

What does expectation have to do with anything? The other night a friend asked me when I was most happy, or what made me happiest. Obviously being an over thinker I didn’t give any sort of immediate response, but I did begin to think about this question. I mulled it over, trying to remember the times at which I’ve been happiest in the past few years. Was I alone? Was I with my friends? Was I with a throbbing mass of thousands of unknowns? Which moments were popping up in my head? I’ve been really happy when sat appreciating the majesty of the world around me in certain beautiful locations. Things like my brother graduating with a first obviously made me extremely happy, but on a more selfish note, when I topped out on Partage I remember being really happy. Also doing Danse des Balrogs made me rather happy. Doing Amok and UBIK with DC was amazing because I didn’t expect myself to be able to do an 8A/+ back then, but I somehow climbed out my skin and managed it! The happiness from doing these things is often very transient, but whilst it’s there it feels really good. Topping out General Disarray was also very good. These all seem to be climbing moments, and to be honest they have been amongst the best moments from the past couple of years. I have had very happy times outside of climbing, but the single moments that I can remember are climbing related (probably due in large part to not having a very fast random access time to old memories!). Perhaps it’s because they are like an intense spike along my graph of happiness, which is generally high. I also thought about the many other boulders that I’ve done which gave me no satisfaction at all. Topping out on Amber gave me some satisfaction, because I’d undertaken a monumental battle to get that thing done, but as I wrote previously the battle was not a simple case of me versus the boulder problem. The battle was actually external to the climbing, so my success was against something like the whole of mother nature and also myself. I found out whether or not I have the dedication, resolve, and determination to get something like that done. I got my answer but I didn’t get a wonderful sense of achievement from topping out the actual boulder problem, that came from the whole process. Why? I expected myself to climb it. I knew I could do it from my very first session and should have done it that session or perhaps the second session. If I’d done it in 1 session I would have felt pretty great, but I didn’t. What took over was expectation. I knew I could do it and so it became more a question of when? I expected myself to be able to climb it, and I expected that I would climb it, so when I did climb it I wasn’t surprised. That was totally different to the process with Partage. I went there (rather nervously) for a go thinking I would get totally shut down, but I didn’t. I did well! I was both shocked and elated, and this feeling came through when I did it.

So where does this expectation come from and is it really a good thing? Well, we all have expectations about what we think we should be able to do. Some people underestimate their level whilst others overestimate it, and our self perception changes over time. Once upon a time I didn’t expect to climb 7C when I went out, then I expected to be able to do a 7C with lots of effort, and now I expect myself to do a 7C fairly easily. This is progress. Some people, however, get confused about their true level and this can lead to rather disappoint results. If one expects to do 8A’s everyday but then fails on every 8A around and even fails on 7C’s then there is something wrong with one’s self perception. It’s sometimes hard to accept that your perception is wrong and changing it is even harder, but ultimately it’s the best thing you can do. Not living up to expectations is a terrible loop to fall into as things rapidly breakdown and you end up frustrated. My expectations of myself have evolved and now I find myself expecting myself to do things when maybe I shouldn’t. I’ve always been confident, which isn’t a bad thing in my opinion, but now I feel like my expectations sometimes act as weights on my shoulders. I expect myself to do certain problems, and if I don’t do them in my allotted time span I then feel no satisfaction in having done them because I feel like I’ve fallen short of the mark I set. This might seem ridiculous to some people and it sometimes seems a little ridiculous to me too, but this is how I operate. It’s how I push myself to keep on striving.

After all these thoughts, I have to return the question which started them all off; when am I happiest? The answer has to be that I’m happiest when I’m doing something that I didn’t think I could do. I’m happiest when I achieve something that I know was hard. Hard in the sense that it pushed me and I overcame adversity to do it. This happiness isn’t specifically inherent in rock climbing, but it is intrinsically linked to the process I apply to rock climbing.

This expectation about Gecko assis has the possibility to ruin my eventual (I hope) ascent, but I’m not going to let it do so. If I do Gecko assis it will be a very special ascent to me. Special for a whole number of reasons, but especially as it was one of the very first hard boulders I ever saw way back on my first font trip with Neil and James. We were hardcore punts and we watched DG trying it with amazement. Now, after many years of sacrifice, joy, training, and climbing I’ve gone full circle and it’s me who’s doing the climbing. I think my desire to do it is somehow stronger than my expectation of me doing it. Even though I’m so sure I can do it, I simply long to do it more than that, and so the scent of success is pulling me along like a wonderful home cooked pan of fesenjan.

E. Expectation. Elation. Eventually.

Since the last entry I’ve only got in another 2 days of rock climbing. The weather turned sour for several days and I rested hard thinking that when it broke I would be there with guns a blazing ready to gun down everything in my way. When it did break I headed to Cuvier to try a few things on my hitlist.

Apotheose, Imothep, and Kheops were on the menu. A trio of delights. I figured it was a good line up, taking into account a good starter, main course and dessert. The warm up was fairly brief consisting of me going up and down a slightly wet 5+ several times. I was following in my own footsteps and so I felt pretty good. Last year I would do this same warm up, then move onto the second stage of warm ups which consisted of Carnage, Berezina, then the link up. This year, I walked over to Carnage, pulled on, and completely missed the crimp. Last year I can’t remember falling off this problem so the fact I was back on the ground came as a bit of a shock. I wasn’t sure what was going on but my second go saw me hit the crimp for a second before ripping off very hard, skinning two knuckles, and then giving up. What on earth was going on? The bleeding wasn’t stopping as it was on a knuckle, I was feeling shocked, and so I did the logical thing and moved on to Berezina. Once again, I don’t recall falling off this problem for quite a while… I pulled on, jumped upwards, watched as my hand COMPLETELY missed the hold and then felt my feet back on the ground. Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot. The shock was setting in. I had no idea what, why, how, etc. All I knew was that this was a very bad sign of possible things to come. I had another go or two on Berezina and latched the hold, then made my way upwards. I felt no relief in doing it, only a sense of confusion as to why I’d fallen off.

Not feeling good but keen to shake it off and step back into round 2, I decided to have a go on Apotheose. This is my last remaining challenge on the bloc, which is something I really want to finish and I’ve been trying it for quite a while. Certainly I’ve had a quick go on at least 10 days. My first few goes were poor and only pushed me further towards being KO’d. It’s only a 1 move problem from a bad sloper and up to a sloper/sidepull. Apparently people use a heelhook to do it, but for the life of me I can’t get the heelhook in whilst remaining in a position from which I can move. Instead, I’ve opted to try and campus it or to use a tiny foothold. The tiny foothold method has never really worked for me, but today proved slightly different. One go my foot was drawn towards a micro hold and gripped the rock enough to give me a tiny push upwards. My foot only stays on for the first 30% of the movement but it’s enough to give a bit of an upwards push and I managed to hit the next hold higher than I’d ever managed to. I searched with my eyes to see the foothold once on the ground and with the help of Pritchard I managed to find it. I gave it a brush and a tickmark so my foot could located this needle in a an ocean of hay. More goes passed and I was making good progress but I still wasn’t on top, which was the obvious goal. Something then changed and the sloper went from grippy to greasy. I gave up, whilst trying to remain positive, and we headed over to Imothep. The starter hadn’t quite gone down, but my small taste had indicated that it was indeed possible. In fact, the session was a break through session in that I found the micro foothold to propel me upwards.

Imothep was a different proposition. Compression and heelhooks, a style I enjoy. The conditions on it were really good and the orange light was gorgeous. I set the camera up and it looked amazing. I was really hoping my luck was about to change and that I could capture the send while the light was so perfect. The first move required a high left heelhook and my hips REALLY struggled to open up and find the placement. Neil pushed me past the move and I did the next several moves, up until I reached the next high left heelhook. After a more concerted effort I found a way to do the first move, by heelhooking on a marginal hold instead of a jug. This only affirmed to me that I need to stretch more. Why neglect such a weakness in my game?! It makes no sense, so stretching is now on the agenda. I eventually made some progress and climbed up to what I think is the last tricky move for me. My arms are stretched so wide, which in combination why my inflexible hips made it ridiculously difficult to get my left leg upwards onto a heelhook. It’s so frustrating because all the heelhooks are huge and if you can get to them there is absolutely no way they’d come off. For me, they were all marginal as I couldn’t get to them, thus making the moves much harder. I’m not complaining though, I made this bed and I’m certainly willing to lie in it. Well, that’s not quite true since I’m actually going to do something about it and get my stretch on! If you’re not working your weaknesses then you’re only contributing to being an incomplete and unbalanced climber, which is not something I want to be. I think I can do Imothep, but after so many goes I was thrashed, my skin was sacked and my legs were hurting. I didn’t want to let it go though. I searched for inspiration and found the energy to dig deep and have one more go. I wanted to break through this punterdom and crush this thing into oblivion. I put my shoes back on, announced my intentions of one more go, and set off. Unfortunately all my willpower didn’t translate into arm power, hip flexibility, and climbing skills. I fell off like a sack of spuds and knew I was done. Time to let it go and leave in the dying light. I was a little disappointed but I was trying to take the positive away from the situation. The starter and main course had not gone down and so I thought moving on to dessert would be about as ridiculous as things could get. I simply packed up and left.

Whilst walking out I was thinking about a conversation I had a few weeks ago with Sara about something similar. There are always two ways of looking at any situation, with the eyes of an optimist or those of a pessimist. So, was the glass half empty or half full? I’d mentioned to sara that the whole half empty/hall full thing was a fallacy. In reality, and the way I look at it, is that the glass only contains half it’s total volume. I guess I’m a realist. So, what would a realist make of the day? I’d fallen off Carnage for the first time in ages and then the same with Berezina. But then I’d made (some) progress on Apotheose by finding my micro foothold and getting as close I’d ever been able to. Afterwards I’d moved on to Imothep and puntered it up hardcore style for a while, until I’d found my marginal heelhook placements and in the end I’d got (what I think is) fairly close. I’m sure that even with not being able to use the heelhooks effectively I can do it. I’ve also discovered that I need to stretch, so I’ve made a plan of attack. Thus I’ve come away with a plan for improvement and from my failure has come a path leading to (what I hope will be) success.

Today was the second of the two days that I’ve had since the last blog entry. I thought my skin had recovered and so I decided I should try something hard in order to take advantage of the good conditions. I decided to return to Cuvier to warm up and then move over to Bouligny to try the moves on Gecko Assis. This was a good plan and it meant I would get some stuff done and also make progress on my project.

Cuvier received me with welcome arms, as always, and I walked to the Carnage block to begin the warm up and then tick Apotheose. I’d put the previous day of confused punterdom behind me and was looking forward. Perhaps it was complaceny that tripped me up on my previous visit as I’d not warmed up all that much. My mum used to ask me what the difference was between a wise man and a fool. Well, everyone makes mistakes as to err is human, but the wise man learns from his mistakes and doesn’t make them again. Today I discovered that I’m a fool. I warmed up on a single white or red problem, I can’t remember and it doesn’t really matter. Then I went back to the Carnage block and tried to pull on. Once again I missed the crimp and knew immediately that I felt bad. My skin was already weeping and had I been professional about things I would have packed up and left. The problem was that it was a beautiful day and I wanted to stay out and climb. So instead of being pro I just moved my pads a few inches and pulled on to Berezina. Once again I fell off, and immediately felt a pain in my left shoulder. The jump method on Berezina is hard on the left shoulder and trying it without being warmed up had now tweaked my left shoulder. It’s now super tight and will take a day or two of stretching to recover. I don’t know why I’d done this and I was actually a bit sacked about it because I’m not normally so foolish. I tried several more times and my skin was burning. I felt so bad on the first Berezina sloper and I fell off again as a famous font face walked up to the boulder. I couldn’t put the name to the face though, but that soon changed when he went to pull on to Berezina. Just before he pulled on I remembered who it was. The thing that gave it away was his back, it bulged outwards in every direction from his jumper. It was Christophe Laumone (edit; This is the name I meant to write but my brain made a typo!). He despatched Berezina with consummate ease, as you would expect and I asked him for some beta on Apotheose. Unfortunately he did it with a heelhook and proceeded to tell me that it was actually a very peculiar move. I guess my method is less peculiar but ridiculously more powerful. Swings and roundabouts. After he wandered off I began the siege of Apotheose.

The sloper felt great and I was hitting the high left hold every go but I wasn’t hanging on. My hips must have been too far away from the rock and I wasn’t accurate enough on the hold. My foot wasn’t able to stay on the foothold for very long as it was so bad so It was propelling me upwards but then as it shot off my body must have been moving slightly backwards, thus making it harder to latch the hold which I was aiming for. I do think this method will work but for sure it’s very hard. Soon enough my skin gave out and I couldn’t take the pain in my tips so I gave up.

The plan of attack was now meant to carry me to Bouligny to try Gecko but I was completely thrashed. I’d once again fallen off my warm-ups and then failed on Apotheose. So what should I be taking from this session? What was the realist’s approach to today’s activities? Well, I’ve learned that I need to try and be more professional. I need to leave before I get sent away in disgust by the boulders. I also need to warm up more. I think complacency definitely got the better of me. Just because I’m back in font doesn’t necessarily mean things will fall into place like last year. The next time I hit cuvier I’ll be warming up thoroughly and then I’m sure the old warm up circuit will be resurrected and despatched. I’m also going to have a couple of days off to let my skin recover completely. I think I just feel so good in Font that I don’t think I need to warm up as much, and that I can repeat everything easily. Perhaps my mental image of my climbing was exceeding my physical reality. I’m not entirely sure, but after 2 days of rest and stretching I’m certain that the blocs will stand no chance. Time for the fool to step aside and let the wise man lead the way.