English man in Font

The last few days have been frantic with Ty and I coming up with ideas and then rushing around trying our best to film them. Some worked and some didn’t, but I hope that when you end up seeing them you’ll either laugh or be impressed. Our days have been spent rushing around many crags and my final day was no different.

I’d been saving it all up for one final push at the Gecko. A cold spell was due to arrive on Friday but my last day was Thursday so I had no choice but to try and make the most of it. In order to do that I decided I must wake up when it’s coldest, ie. just before the sun rises. Our normal time of rising is somewhere between 9:30 and 11am so asking my body to wake up at 6:30am then go into crush mode wasn’t going to be a walk in the park. Perhaps by body was ready however as I woke up 1 minute before my alarm was going set to go off. A sign? Was my body really ready for this morning assault? I wasn’t going to take any chances and decided to turn to the dark side… a nice cup of strong coffee. I gave up caffeine a few weeks ago as I decided I was probably addicted so I went cold turkey. It wasn’t very fun and I did have nearly a week of constant headaches, but it just goes to show how we can build up dependencies on certain things without even realising it. I didn’t even drink coffee regularly, but I did drink a fair number of cups of tea per day. I think any sort of reliance of anything physical, emotional, or spiritual is probably a bad thing. Being able to subsist without any particular item should be easy and if it’s not then you are addicted (in my opinion). It was with that that I ended my tea drinking.

This morning however, I rejuvenated my body with coffee and I felt on it! I drove to the crag feeling so super psyched and I think it may have even rubbed off on Tyler as he even managed a conversation, which is quite a feat for him at such a ridiculous hour. The Passat was reporting what seemed implausible temperatures, but when I stepped out of the car at Gecko it suddenly felt all of -3 degrees. Woah. I hadn’t been expecting that and I hadn’t even brought a jacket. No worries, as a brisk walk to the boulder would get me going. We arrived, it all looked dry, I brushed it down, then began to warm up. My skin felt sore, far too sore, but this was my last day. I’d come here with my war face on and I wasn’t going to retreat until I was either dead or close to it (perhaps a slight exaggeration…). Then I set about Gecko. My split along my first joint was immediately painful. I’d rested it as long as I could as I knew this was the problem on which it would suddenly flare up. The hand positions are so particular for me that I can’t avoid the pain by moving it up or down 5mm. It really does have to be millimetre perfect for me to flow through the moves. I decided to try and do the stand up start as a further warm up but it really didn’t feel good. My psych wasn’t dropping though, it was powering me forward. I tried again and as I was reaching up into the undercut my right hand dryfired off and blood started seeping out the back of my knuckles. I’ve come to accept this. If my skin isn’t in a super state then gripping on becomes very difficult and this has resulted in me and Mr. Dryfire becoming the best of friends.

The sun was rising and the forest looked beautiful. Tyler was curled up of the floor basking in the sunshine and I was in the shade trying to find the grip and D.E. It didn’t take too long before I realised this quest was fruitless and I had to throw in the towel. My skin was too painful, conditions weren’t amazing, and I was tired. I’d pumped myself up for this and now I was coming back down to earth. The reality of the situation was setting in. I’d prepared myself for success, for an amazing tale of last day triumph, just like it seems to happen in the films. Perhaps that’s why I’m trying to make a film, so I can achieve the impossible too. It didn’t work though. This really was the end. I was leaving and my final go on Gecko Assis was done. What now? Well, October is only 6 months away. My confidence isn’t diminished as I know without doubt that I will ascend this boulder problem and it will feel amazing when I do. It’s simply challenging me, perhaps in ways I didn’t expect. The physical challenge was quickly surmounted and I think it’s fair to say I am easily strong enough. I can climb it in 2 very overlapping sections on command, but I didn’t have enough juice to link it. The mental challenge is something else, another part of the game that I’ve not experienced before. I’ve never put so much energy into something and had to leave without doing it. It nearly happened in Switzerland with Amber but my single mindedness and perhaps complete madness culminated in a last day send. That was another problem that I was over strong for but struggled to get done. So now I have to let my mind rest, knowing that Gecko is still there, waiting for my return. It would have been really nice to get it done and have it in the film but something real life is just too damn ordinary. People fail.

In the 6 months between now and October I have other challenges remaining. There are a couple of things I want to do in England and one two major things abroad. I have a film to put together and edit. I have family to catch up with. I certainly won’t be tapping my fingers waiting for the days to elapse!

However, the day was not done yet. In fact, the day hadn’t even started as I was finished with Gecko before 9am! We had more than a whole day of climbing ahead of us. There were a number of amazing problems that I’d done in previous years that I’d not filmed, so we set about repeating them for the lens. The first was Amok, an incredible float move from a perfect pinch to a perfect sloper. It’s hard to explain just how amazing these problems are because my words will always lack the feeling of the movement. If you’re climbing at around the 8A level then you should make it your purpose to check out this problem. We walked out both overwhelmed by the beauty of the forest in the gorgeous morning light. The joy didn’t stop there though as we zoom zoomed down to Ubik. We set the camera up and Tyler asked me if I was going to do it. Of course I replied yes. Confidence before rationality (I joke). I pulled on and floated to the top. As I topped out I remembered that absolutely amazing feeling of joy. When something is so good, as Ubik is, you just want to revel in it’s glory. Amok has a wonderful right hand pinch and Ubik has an even more wonderful left hand pinch. Tyler didn’t want to miss out on the joy and he promptly pulled on and joined me on top. He then boldy declared it the best problem in the whole world… not a minor claim when you know just how many areas he’s visited. The stand start felt so easy that I figured I should do the sit start. One of the undercuts was unfortunately the perfect size to rip into my split and as strong as my body felt, I couldn’t let go of my lower hand to do the move. Somewhat of a shame, but I was high on the feeling of how good Ubik was. In fact, I did it again. Yes, it’s that good. Once again, if you are operating at around 8A then get yourself to this bloc.

By this point it was barely lunchtime. Incredible how much time there is in a day when you wake up at 6am. Next stop Rocher Greau for Tyler to keep on with his quest of making the unreal real. Another impressive ascent (details on his blog I assume) and we jet leponged for the next crag. It was at this point we realised just how hot the day had become. From being so cold at Gecko we were now cruising tops off with the car reporting temps of 18C. WOOOOO WEEEEEE!

Upon arrival at Cuvier we were both feeling somewhat lethargic but there was one more thing to film. After achieving some personal bests in one legged hoping we headed up to the Rempart. My skin was destroyed, I felt tired, but I really wanted to film T-Rex. I had to dig really deep and it was probably only the shouts of encouragement from Tyler that got me up it. When I’d done it earlier in the trip it had taken me a bunch of goes and I’d fallen so many times at the ninja foot jump move. Today, in awful conditions, where I genuinely felt like I was about to grease off every hold I managed to stick the move first go. Amazing what determination can do. My skin was truly finished now. Water was pouring out and the bruises were very visible.

My last day in font was complete. I’d hoped to make it an amazing day with an ascent of Gecko Assis. Even though I’d not managed it I’d had a truly amazing day. I’d remembered why climbing in font is so amazing, why I love it more than anywhere else in the world, and felt motivated to come back. This trip has been a strange one for me, but I know that I’m not climbing badly. Getting to the last move of many problems is frustrating, but I’ve chosen to look at it another way. When I return I will be fitter, stronger, and fresher. The many problems which I’ve nearly climbed will all get climbed and all of a sudden my life long ticklist will get a lot shorter.

Climbing with Tyler is something that I want to write a little bit about. You can skip this bit if you’re reading Tyler. I’ve witnessed some quite incredible things during this trip. Seeing the unreal becoming real every day can affect your judgement on the whole world. Going out with Tyler makes me question what is possible and where climbing really is at the moment. Seeing boulder after boulder crushed into oblivion can have a very strange affect. I’m lucky though, because I was witnessing this dismay but my feet were firmly footed to the ground. I did try nearly everything that Tyler has done and so when I saw him do it I wasn’t out of touch with the ascent. I knew that the moves he was flowing along were actually very hard. I’m not a world class climber, far from it. There are thousands of climbers better than me in this world, and I’m sure there are some who stand shoulder to shoulder with Tyler. When you read about someone doing one hard problem after another it’s worth taking a moment to stop and think about what you’re reading. These problems aren’t easy. Just because someone is making them seem easy does not make them easy in any way. It’s like watching the Russian ballet, or watching Schumacher win the F1 world title 5 years in a row. These things which your eyes are witnessing are incredible. You’re lucky enough to be witnessing the incredible. Don’t let this become ordinary. Don’t forget just what level of performance you are seeing. Don’t forget how many years of dedication and hard work it took to get there. The moment when everything flows and everything is in a state of DE is a crescendo of everything that came before it. I’ve been very lucky in that I’ve climbed with what I consider to be some of the best and strongest climbers in the world. The unreal was completely debased by Rich Simpson who had a way of making absolutely everything look easy. I simply started believing he could do anything in his path (and he did) after climbing with him for a couple of months in the Frankenjura. Seeing him do 1-5-9 so easily probably affected me and gave me the hope that I could do it too. If it looked so easy then how hard could it be? Well, the answer is very hard. This is what I think people should remember when they see any of the world’s top climbers doing their thing. You really are witnessing the incredible. If you let yourself become desensitized to it then you’re missing out on a wonderful joy.

I’ve got an overwhelming feeling right now that I’m the luckiest person in the world. I spend my days doing exactly what I want to do and I don’t think anyone could ask for anything more. I climb in amazing places, hang out with great people, and have very little to worry about. I’m not immune to the base things like needing money to survive, but I’ve been a little lucky and a little skilled so I’ve made bits and bobs along the way that have enabled me to keep doing what I love. I’m able to follow my aspirations and live my dreams. I know that I’m a very lucky middle class white kid from Manchester and I’m pretty mindful to make sure that I never forget this. I wouldn’t change my life for any other and this is surely a very good measure of true happiness.

In closing, I have footage of Tyler’s impressive rampage through the forest and I hope to put something together in the next couple of months. I hope I can do it justice and that the incredibleness isn’t lost. In fact, I’m a little nervous about putting it all together. Basically I’m just a punt with a video camera but hopefully with enough time/perseverance/luck I can make something better than the sum of its parts. I think I can say with confidence that there won’t be a bad problem in the whole film. Perhaps I can offer some sort of guarantee that you won’t be disappointed if you go to try any problem featured in the film. I don’t know what I’m guaranteeing it for, but I just wanted to share that titbit of information.

Tyler is undoubtedly one of the best boulderers in the world, this is undisputed. Climbing with him is a dismaying feat most of the time and I think that there are two human reactions to seeing such a thing every single day. The dismay can be too much and it can result in personal trouble because of a loss of perspective on one’s own climbing, or, it can act as a source of inspiration. For me it’s most definitely inspiring and it causes me to try and raise my game whenever possible. Making the impossible seem not only possible but also easy is something I really do like to see. To the common bystander it probably looks rather ordinary, with a young man easily climbing up a bit of rock. It’s only when I step on to the rock that the bystander asks “why can’t that guy climb” when instead they should be asking “what have I just witnessed!?”.

A facet of climbing that I think is particularly wonderful is that it can be thoroughly enjoyed at any level. From 5 to 8C, when you do something that was genuinely hard or challenging the resulting feeling of surmounting your difficulties is wonderful. Knowing that you were tested and that you succeeded is a great feeling. In climbing this joy isn’t exclusively reserved for those who are amazing, it’s available to every single man, woman, and child. Difficulty is most certainly relative in this game, with an overall schematic of objective difficulty also existing. My brother occassionaly climbs, and he knows what it feels like to do something that once seemed impossible, and I’ve seen the reaction when he’s suddenly made the impossible possible. I’m sure his feeling will have been very similar to my feeling when I did my first hard problem in the forest. This is one of the greatest things in climbing – a solidarity of sorts.

However, there is something to be said about the joys increasing as the grades increase. Whilst there is no causation between higher grades and higher joy, there is possibly correlation. I think the causation comes from the fact that the more time we spend climbing, the more we improve. The more we have invested in climbing, the more we get back from climbing. Knowing that the hardest boulder problem you have ever climbed was the sum total of 5 years of effort, dedication, and desire can only serve to make the success even sweeter. I’m sure Doylo was beyond ecstatic after completing his pill box project after a Jesus like 40 days of effort. I’m certain that his joy was greater than had he done it in 1 day. The difficulty of the process is what tempers us and it’s what makes it better. In that way I think it’s less enjoyable to be a super amazing rock climber, because everything feels easy.

During this trip with Tyler I think the most psyched he has been has not necessarily been when he’s topped out the hardest problems. From what I’ve seen, the most coveted ascents have been those that he really didn’t know if he would be able to do. Those that posed a different or unusual challenge, those with history and those that were far more than the sum of their moves. In my mind, Karma and Duel were 2 moments when he really felt super good, and both are far below his physical limit.

The same is true for all of us. Overcoming a mental hurdle or a physical hurdle (or both) can be the most wonderful feeling in the world and every single climber is lucky enough to have this feeling available to them (for free!) all of the time.

The lack of update could mean any number of things. It could mean I’ve not been climbing, it could mean I’ve been hardcore puntering, or it could mean I’ve gone on the rampage and mauled everything (although I should come out and say this third option is completely untrue!). Since last weekend I’ve actually climbing quite a lot, but my disease is seemingly unshakeable.

Lastmoveitus has continued to pervade my climbing, which is annoying. I’ve tried a whole feast of 5 start problems this week but not really managed to finish any of them off. The good news is that Tyler has been finishing them off like it’s an end of year the world sale. The list of hard problems continues to grow at an alarming rate and luckily I’ve got them all on film.

On Wednesday I tried Delire Onirique and surprised myself by actually crimping a hold! Initially I thought it was going to be too small to pull off but after a bit of help I did actually pull on it! I think the crimpy crux move is the first, with an easier but somewhat blind jump move further up that looks eminently drop-able. It’s one I didn’t have on my list but that has been added as it’s not only aesthetically superb but the moves on it are something of a dream. It requires a good level of tension as cutting loose results in failure on any of the first few moves. The only way it could be any better was if the crimp was a pinch, but that might just make it a meta problem!

Thursday was meant to be a day of moderates for two reasons. 1. I don’t have any footage of myself climbing and 2. So far it’s just Tyler doing 8’s and up. Thinking that I could just leave him up there with the 8’s and I could do a slew of amazing 7’s we set out. Unfortunately this plan didn’t come out quite as intended as I managed to fall from the last move of Irreversible and Envie D’ailles. Irreversible was intimidating with only 2 pads and 1 spotter, so as I was reaching up for the crux sloper and I felt my heelhook slip down I suddenly got a wave of fear. From the position I was in it would have been a very nasty landing, so I reversed a move and jumped. Envie D’ailles was just too sharp for more than a few goes so that one I can blame on skin.

Friday saw success (if you can call it that) in the form of some 7A’s and B’s. It was nice to actually get to the top of something, but unfortunate that they were problems that I didn’t really have a huge desire to do. They were very good however! Saturday was a day of rest and Sunday saw another mini rampage from Tyler – which you should read about it on his blog. It also saw lastmoveitus extend it’s all pervading claws to La Chose, when I fell only 1 move from a decent edge and an imminent topout.

The thing that I’ve been thinking about most is my mental state whilst all this puntering is going on. I’m not upset, depressed, sacked, or any other synonym’s you can think of. I’m waking up happy every day and I’m smiling and laughing then I’m failing. Either I’m deluding myself and everyone else around me, or I’m genuinely not raged by my performance. I don’t really get angry anymore so I can’t measure myself by that yardstick. I think if you’re getting angry at rock climbing then it’s a clear sign at a lack of perspective. Perhaps it’s more accurate to say that I’m happy but I’m tinged with disappointment. However, one of the great things about this sport is that the rocks aren’t ever changing, they are always there for when you want to return. Gecko will be exactly the same in 6 months time, the challenge will remain the same, and I’ll be able to try and test myself against it again. There is no room for rage and anger in this whole process, only an understanding of desire, motivation, and self. Whilst I clearly had hoped to break through to another level on this trip, the failure to do so is not permanent in any way. It’s a momentary set back and it doesn’t take a huge amount of perspective to see this. If you fail on a boulder problem one day, and your rage/anger/pride/ego causes you to give up then I think that’s a sorry state to be in. Having the mental resolve to never give up is what is necessary and it’s something which I think I have, so the battle may be nearly over, but the war will never end.

This week I also feel like my body has also reached the end of it’s trip. I’m really not feeling fresh each morning and my elbow has begun to ache like never before which is definitely a sign that the trip should be ending. I think some home cooking and rest won’t do me any harm.

My whole plan was to do easier problems for 10 days and then return to Gecko for a final assault on the penultimate day of my trip here. I’m leaving Friday morning so I was planning on Gecking it up on Thursday morning. I was going to break the ritual of a longtime and wake up at 8am so I could be there with the cool early morning conditions. This was my master plan that I thought would give me a good chance, but 2 days ago my right middle finger split open. It’s not split on the tip, but on the fold between the tip. You might think this is a good thing, but oh no. This is the EXACT spot I was trying to nurse better for Gecko as it’s this exact spot that has been bruised for months on end from trying Gecko. It’s such a specific spot that I think even with tape on it will be too painful to pull on. I’m not quite ready to give up though, so I’ll be going there on Thursday morning, I’ll be taping over my sliced joint, and I’ll be trying for one last shot at success.

As you all know, I’m currently residing in Maisonbleau and spending my days climbing in the forests of Fontainebleau. I try to recount any interested tales on this very blog, so I thought I should warn the readers of what is about to come. If you want to hear tales of crushing beautiful blocs, then turn away now. In fact, if you want to hear any tales of rock climbing then head somewhere else, because yesterday none of this took place.

Yesterday I entered a vast hall, full of many, many people. There were no rocks in sight, only giant upside down spider like constructions that people were gathered around. Where was I? What was I doing here? Well, the weather wasn’t looking so hot on Saturday (not in a good way) and so I thought that a change would be as good as a rest. How wrong I was. Perhaps a more accurate statement would be that the change was as far as you can possibly get from a rest. I’d heard wind of a bouldering competition going down and the allure of perhaps winning some money was strong. This is just some small time local comp after all… it’s unlikely there will be any strong climbers there… right? Wrong. Kevin Lopata (8B+ beast), Olivier Lebreton (8B+ beast), and Vincent Pochon (8B beast) were all there. These guys are the people who I regard as the font beasts, along with the slightly more old schoolers like Sebastian Frigault and Julien Nadiras. Hopes of winning were somewhat scathed, but I was here now so I’d be giving it a good go.

I really had no idea what was going on, but after getting registered and having someone translate the rules, we were off. I should preamble this with a statement about my general levels of session fitness. At home I train as much as I can, and it’s rare I hit 2 hours. Out here in the forest I normally spend 2-3 hours maximum trying something and at the end I’m either physically finished or my skin is totalled. This didn’t bode well when I found out that there were 29 problems in the qualification round. 29 problems is a hell of a lot for someone whose forearms balloon to the size of Popeye’s after doing more than 8 moves. I decided to try and shadow Kevin as he’d won the previous year so I thought he’d know what he was doing. This plan went well for all of 4 problems at which point I fell off something and he disappeared into the crowds! Luckily for me, this wasn’t a flash based competition. Qualification was a 4 hour window of suffering, but as long as you got to the top of a boulder then you could tick it off your scorecard. This was definitely better for me as I’m not particularly good at flashing boulder problems. The other thing that was very handy was that the problems were numbered in order of difficulty, 1 being the easiest and 29 being the hardest. The 4^th problem that I’d tried had been number 28 and I should have realised that I wasn’t warmed up enough. However, I had another attempt which only served to tear my left pectoral, then grease off, at which point I spent 10 mins stretching. Not the ideal start, but I figured I’d get stuck in to the other problems and leave this one for later. I tried to keep and eye on Olivier and Vincent so I could see how they climbed each problem and gradually I’d ticked off a fair few of them. Then we all arrived at number 27. It was clearly hard and everybody was falling off, but it looks very basic and very school like. The crux involved a long jump off a wonderful pinch, which you got my doing 2 burly undercut moves. Unfortunately for me, there was a sneaky toehook that someone discovered (damn you!) which meant that nobody was doing the burly undercut moves at the start. Nobody except for me that is. I wanted to make a statement by doing it a harder way. I’m Jerry Moffatt. Wait a second. I’m not Jerry Moffatt, but I was using the guy as my inspiration. It took me a few tries but I made it to the top after missing out the toehooks, then campusing the top section much to the crowds dismay. Statement made, that’s how we roll in England. I continued to tick off the easier ones up until I only had 2 problems left, 28 and 29. I returned to number 28 and thankfully some new beta had been found eliminated the huge span that had ripped my pec. The new way was far superior and I cruised to the top of it which was great. 29 was too hard and I knew no one would do it, so at this point I realised I would definitely be in the final.

Things weren’t all rosy however. My left forearm had begun to cramp and as I was doing my shoelaces up for one problem my thumb retracted into the palm of my hand, accompanied by a small yelp of pain and surprise. I prised my thumb out of that position, but something was very wrong. My left forearm was tightening up like crazy. I needed fluids. Luckily I wasn’t there alone. Neil, Chris, and Thomas had come along and Chris was nice enough to nip down to decathlon and buy me some magic drinks that fixed me. It was a shame that Decathlon didn’t sell magic skin growth formula as by this point I was having to go and stand outside wafting my hands like crazy to stop the water pouring out my tips. Then I’d come inside and have a go, immediately followed by another trip outside.

Qualification ended at 19h20. Finals were due to begin at 21h. I had time to chill out and try to recover as much as possible. I spent the time walking around, stretching, and watching the strangest dyno competition I’ve ever seen. Teams of 3 people had to do the same dyno as many times as they could in a minute. Imagine a sort of dyno train. It was somewhat ridiculous but I guess it was a crowd pleaser. This seemed to take forever though and people were waiting on results. One thing was clear, finals wouldn’t be started at 21h. After what seemed like an eternity results were announced and I was in the finals with Olivier, Vincent, Jerome Chaput (the organising club president – hmmmm), and another 3 randoms. Kevin hadn’t made it through which was a real surprise, but problem 27 had been his Achilles heel.

We trapsed off to isolation and my skin was pouring with water. I was constantly wiping them on either my t-shirt of my trousers, but in a matter of seconds the flow would resume. Nothing I could do about it except chalk up and try to hold on. It was nice to be there with Olivier and Vincent. They’re both really nice guys and did nothing but help me out by translating, telling me where to go, and having a positive attitude towards each other. We were told to warm up and 15 minutes later we were warm. Then the waiting began again. On it went, longer and longer. We didn’t end up starting until 23h30! It was pretty ridiculous as everyone was tired and getting a little fed up.

The problems in the final were hard, considering I’d already done 28 problems and had been climbing for hours. Perhaps too hard in my opinion, as the crowd doesn’t like to see competitor after competitor fail to do the first move of a problem! The 3 randoms failed to make it to the top of anything, although perhaps this is the way it should be (I have no idea). In the end, Olivier was crowned champion with Vincent in a close second. I thought I might have taken third but was usurped by an exceptional performance one on problem by Jerome (bravo!). I settled in to the 4^th place, with which I was neither happy nor disappointed. I’d had visions of coming out to the finals and destroying every problem, standing atop the podium, and screaming to the crowd “I did it for you Jerry!”. I wanted to follow in his footsteps, come to France, and crush them. It would have been a funny thing to do, but in the end I’m just not good enough. Although, with competitions it’s always more accurate to say that I wasn’t good enough on the day. I lost to people who I regard as better and far more prolific climbers than myself, which is why I’m not disappointed. I’m not happy because I know that I had it in me to win. I have the strength, the technical ability, and the desire. I just lacked (in a BIG way) the session fitness. My crazy thumb-forearm cramp was a big reminder of this.

As to whether or not I have a real interest in doing well in comps, it’s something I’m kind of on the fence about. My ideal situation is to get better at comps by climbing on the rocks and to gain fitness by doing power endurance or routes. I don’t want to start doing proper comp training because I don’t think that is as beneficial to rock climbing as other forms of training. At the end of the day, I’d rather be an amazing rock climber than the winner of some world cup. Just like Jerry said, if you want to find out where he was in 1993 go and try The Dominator (without the heelhook!).

On the topic of Jerry… it seems that since he’s published his book everybody has jumped on the bandwagon of “I love Jerry”. I’ve loved Jerry since the start and I want to say a hearty welcome to all the newcomers. The big man has enough charisma and strength to inspire us all. I don’t want/need him to myself. Let him inspire you too, but if you dare disappoint or fail to crush in his name then you will forever be glancing over your shoulder… I should say no more.

This morning I woke up and felt to sore that I sent myself straight into the bath, which made me feel like a million dollars and I thought my aches had disappeared. Unfortunately this only lasted for about an hour at which point they all came back. I’m hoping that I can get back on to the rocks within a day or two as I have a ridiculous amount to do and only 11 days left. Just writing that has made me realise I can’t do even half of the things I want to do, so tomorrow new list will be made and if it’s not raining I’ll be at the rocks. I could stay an extra 5 or 6 days but there are some things that are more important than climbing and aren’t worth sacrificing for climbing. For that reason I’ll be leaving on the 20^th.

After so many words (as usual), now some more pictures from the comp;

From here;

to here;

to here (Jerome in action);

Strangely enough, I managed to do this one!

Time to take off the long johns, remove the downies, and welcome climbing with shorts on and shirts off!

A couple of days ago I returned to Gecko Assis. The story is the same. I rest a day to try and get my skin good, but then I go to Gecko and realise my skin is bad and conditions sometimes worse. However, things weren’t too bad on Monday and after a brief warm up I actually felt in with a chance. My very first go saw a chunk of skin removed from my left hand, on a hold that can only be described as smooth! If I had to plot skin conditions vs Gecko then it would be a downward trend. There is only one sharpish hold, and it’s only sharp on one specific place of your right index finger. However, that one spot in my finger has been constantly bruised, ripped, or bleeding since I first started trying the sit start. It’s never really recovered to be honest, and this has culminated in shorter and shorter sessions. Monday’s was probably the shortest ever, with me having to stop after about 6 goes from the start.

It’s amusing in some ways, because I’ve only got stronger on this problem and learned to climb it better and better. I know each hold, how to hold it, exactly where to put each tip, but as I’ve got better the conditions have got worse. I’m not whinging, I’m simply beginning to accept that it’s probably not going to happen before I leave. I am disappointed, and further to that I’m unsure how to deal with it. I’m at the stage whereby I can do the moves easily, I can do it in two overlapping halves very easily, but when it comes to linking it I simply run out of grip. I’m not saying it’s now impossible due to conditions, because someone with much drier skin and more strength could do it, I’m sure. I haven’t ordered a lamp for that last ditch night session, but I’m pretty close to pulling the trigger. If you really want something, then you’ve got to try every last thing you can to make it happen. I’ve got to put it all on the line and if I fail on my last night of the trip, at least I’ll have gone out trying. I can’t ask for anymore. I’m simply not a good enough rock climber. That’s what’s great about rock climbing, I can realise I’m not quite there but I can see a path marking the way forward and the only thing stopping me from taking it is myself. I think that’s why I like rock climbing so much because the only thing pushing (or stopping) you forward is your desire to be at that future point. That’s pretty much the same with everything in life, but rock climbing is special because you can train for it everywhere if you are keen enough. It’s just about having the motivation.

Moving on from Gecko I decided it’s time to start on with some of the other things I want to do. Years ago I looked at an impressive prow at Rocher du Cassepot called Synapses, 8A. I’d never seen it with chalk on, but it looked impressive and I’d earmarked it as something I’d like to do one day. For some reason or another I’d never actually been there to try it. It remained an idea, a far flung hope, but going there to try it finally materialised yesterday. We warmed up on the excellent double/triple axle and then I went over for a quick repeat of Cent Pofs sans Reproche. I was surprised that I managed to do it in just 2 goes but that’s the advantage of having done something before. Perhaps it’s both psychologically and physically easier. Then it was on to the main meat, Synapses.

I really wasn’t feeling too good and had a headache of epic proportions but I just tried to get on with the climbing. Chris had given me some beta but unfortunately the combination of his super detailed tirade and my lack of memory culminated in only one thing being retained; something about a super high foot. I saw a foothold that fit the bill, as it faced the right direction and it was super high, but then Tyler pointed out it was actually above my lower hand, so that whole train of thought was dismissed. I tried to pull on but couldn’t figure out if it was left foot or right foot right, or which hand should go where. I requited my turn and let Tyler have a bash. He quickly found a sequence, pulled on, and topped out in a flash. I’d half expected this, so was happy for me, but also half not expected it, which meant i hadn’t paid enough attention to exactly where he put his feet for each move. Time for me to step up. I fell off 2 moves in when I caught a jug sidepull with only 2 fingers. It was good enough to be able to hold on, but not good enough that I could pull my body upwards enough to place a foot. Back to the ground. Next go I fell after losing sight of one of my feet, which is a direct consequence of having your hands far apart and not being able to look down very much. The third go I hit the jug sidepull with my left and reached casually to the next hold. The crux was over, so just a couple more moves to a finishing jug and a dirty sideways topout. Tyler was taking photos so I was doing an Obi to make it look good for the camera, clearly counting my chickens before they’d hatched. I had a right heelhook in and used it to be able to reach up with my right hand to the next hold, a flat jug. It didn’t feel very good and I was preparing for how I would do the next move to a proper jug when I suddenly felt my heel coming off. I wailed “no no no no” as I began to swing off, desperately trying to hold on, but before I could lash out for the final jug I was on the ground, having missed the pads yet again. I couldn’t believe it. This was total punterdom and I was it’s king. Within 30 seconds some rain began to fall and I really thought my chance had been blown. I was still pumped from my previous go but with the prospect of rain about to drench all my hopes and dreams I chalked up and just went for it. I felt bad as soon as I pulled on, but somehow got up it into the same position from where I had just fallen. I decided I better do without the heelhook but then when I tried to smear my two feet beneath me I suddenly became off balance. Oh no. I put the heelhook in and reached up for the flat jug. I was sure I was about to fall off, but I could hear a chorus of shouts from Tyler and in a moment of panic/inspiration I released (well, it kind of fell) my heel hook and jumped for the incut jug at the end. It’s a slot jug, so you have to get straight into it, which I was lucky enough to do. I matched it up and snaked my way over as fast as I could. Relief and joy in equal parts. This is the first thing I’ve done in ages, and I’m hoping the drought has ended (metaphorically of course!).

I’m trying to banish thoughts of Gecko from my head and just get on with the other things, but each day I wake up I look at my skin and wonder if I could just give it another go. I don’t quit easily, but I’m also not a fool. I think I’ll try to tick off some other things first and then make my peace with Gecko. It seems like only yesterday when there was snow on the ground and I was at Gecko saying to myself “I will do this. I’m guaranteed to do this. If not today, then this season”. It was Chris who added the final part “if not this season, then one day”.

No climbing today as this is my view from the window;