A Catalan Christmas

A Catalan Christmas is like an American Christmas, just with more shit. No, no, no that’s neither an insult nor a suggestion that Catalans buy more stuff than Americans. You’ll see what I mean.

In America, Christmas has many distinct characters. Santa squeezes into the chimney and leaves presents for the good children. Rudolph leads the sleigh. The elves labor tirelessly all year long to make sure the toys are ready. Of course there is also the more religious side. Christmas celebrates the birth of Jesus Christ, and the nativity scene is a common decoration. Traditionally there is baby Jesus is the middle, Mary nearby, and the three kings bearing gifts. Well, Catalans have a similar nativity scene, but there is one more character. I’ll bet you can spot him.

The Bon Caganer! That’s right he’s “the good shitter” who at the moment of the son of God’s birth simply couldn’t hold it any longer. The origins of the Bon Caganer are unknown, but he’s been around for a while and has become a key figure for Christmas celebrations. Some say he was added to connect the common person to the nativity scene, as if to say, “no you won’t be the son of God, you probably won’t immaculately conceive the son of God, and, despite higher odds, you’re not gonna be one of the three kings, but hey at least you could be the guy taking a dump nearby!” Whatever the reasons Catalans love their good shitter. When he was removed from a nativity scene in order to promote the don’t pee or poo in public campaign, people immediately protested (probably by not working) and the good shitter was quickly returned to the scene.

Everyone poops: a store of caganers

The shit doesn’t stop there. The next character is Tio Nadal (Christmas Log), or more commonly Caga Tio (Shitting Log). In the American celebration stockings are laid out and on Christmas day santa fills them with little goodies and treats and then leaves the larger presents under the tree. In Cataluña the larger presents are left to the three kings, and the stocking type stuff is left to Caga Tio. However, Caga Tio needs some preparation, so before Christmas the kids feed Caga Tio every night, and cover him with a blanket to make sure he stays warm. Then on Christmas day they reap the benefit of their kind care. The kids stick the bottom half of Caga Tio in the fire place, beat him with sticks, and command “Shit Log! Shit Log! Shit Log!” then bit by bit the Caga Tio poops out candy for the children and family to share. When he’s finished he poops a garlic clove to let everyone know. I can’t help but feel a little bad for the guy. I mean being fattened up, burnt, beaten with sticks, yelled at, and expected to shit candy doesn’t sound like a reason to look forward to the holidays. Somehow, Caga Tio is always smiling - must be that Christmas spirit.

Tio Nadal / Caga Tio

I just finished my classes for the semester and am about to head off for a couple weeks of climbing in the mountains outside of Alicante. I can’t wait to get back on the rock, it’s been almost 3 weeks! I’ll be giving myself the perfect gift of challenge and exhaustion. I hope you all have wonderful holidays!

I’ll leave you with this Catalan saying, a true gem:

“Menja Bé, Caga Fort, i no Tinguis por la Mort”

 Eat well, shit strong and don’t fear death

Twenty Two

I’m 22, in fact I’ve been 22 for a week already. I can only hope that the remaining 51 weeks of #22 are better than the first one. Last Sunday was the 5^th and it was the Sunday of a 5 day long break, which meant everyone from school was out traveling and my climbing buddies were off climbing and probably feeling fresh on day two of a nine day long road trip. I on the other hand was in my room writing gender studies paper #1. This was after finishing my linguistics paper and before starting gender studies paper #2. I sort of celebrated though, I went for a long run (actually my longest yet, 17 miles!), went to the empty climbing gym, and I ate a kebab. I lived in my room for 5 days writing papers, which gave me plenty of time to marvel at the terrible interior design of my residence. It’s really a failed attempt at modern design, like someone told the decorator “I want a futuristic space ship, science lab, and lime-green!” It was cool at first, but over the months the result of the design over function mentality has worn off the charm. After three days of essay writing, and with two more left, I got sick. On Thursday I turned in my essays and got some much needed rest. I feel better, but unfortunately being sick kept me from climbing this weekend. It’s ok, in a little less than one week I’ll be starting a two-week climbing trip. I think 22 is going to be a good year. Naturally, since I was subjecting my eyes to florescent light for several days straight, my mind escaped to reminisce on the many good times of year 21. I think 21 was the best one yet.

Despite the fact that I don’t seem to grow in stature anymore I would like to think that I grow in other, more important, ways. In the last year I added a new major and did well in school, improved my Spanish immensely by traveling to and climbing in Mexico and Spain, became a better and stronger climber by finally figuring out the best method of training for me, spent a lot of time (but still too little) with my favorite girl, spent some great time at home with the family, climbed my biggest wall ever, climbed and skied my biggest mountain ever with Kevin, made new friends and moved to a new country, showed my parents Barcelona and shared my life here with them, accomplished goals and set new ones, failed in certain moments and learned from them, and I dreamed bigger than ever. Each moment was special, and I’m thankful for all the great people who have, and continue to, make my life a fulfilling adventure. Here are some photos and highlights.

Climbed in Potrero Chico, MX

In May I climbed for a couple weeks in Yosemite with my friends Colin, Cheyne, and Dan. The style of climbing in Yosemite is opposite of what I'm good at, so I got scared a lot, but it was just the beginning of what will certainly be a long story.

 Half Dome, next time...

The following video shows what climbers do on rainy rest days. This is known as the Alcove Swing and it is set up at the base of El Capitan. Colin, Cheyne, and I headed up there to check it out. Basically you tie in, run really fast and go for a big swing. The trick is sticking the landing...




In August Kevin and I took a few days and went to the Sierras to do a bit of climbing and hiking. We climbed Cathedral Peak (700 ft, 5.7). It was a big adventure for both of us, and we were ready for a nice, not-exactly-legal bivy at Tenaya Lake. I didn't exactly do too well on packing food because the only non-cookable food I brought were clementines and a bag of jerky, so we split the jerkey and ate three pounds of clementines after the climb.

Cathedral Peak, our route climbed just left of the shadow line

 Kevin chillin' about 650 feet off the ground

Kevin styling the 5th pitch 

Summit!! This was just before Kevin's infamous statement: "Chris, I don't wanna cut your summit glory short or anything, but get me the fuck off this mountain!" Brotherly love! 

Barcelona

Oh yeah, and I started a Blog this year! Thanks for reading!

Fiesta de escalada

Last weekend was the annual Freebloc Fin de Semana, where just about all the climbers from my gym go out for a weekend of climbing and a big dinner. This year we all went to Montgrony, which is easily one of the most amazing places I have ever climbed. I spent a weekend there earlier this year, and so I had definite goals for the weekend. First up on Saturday was “Anant amb crosses” a nice long (though not nearly as long as in the last post) 12d. It was a cold day, and since the warm-up climbs were busy Borja and I decided to just get on our goal and go bolt-to-bolt to figure out the moves. The route climbs vertical, technical terrain before the angle increases and the business begins. From the halfway point to the top it is a race against the clock. The final moves are the crux*, three big lunges to moderate holds that feel significantly smaller when pumped. I managed to climb the route second try, but I definitely had to fight and I was unsure to the end. In the video below I am featured on this climb for about 20 seconds starting at 4:40. Later in the day I jumped on a nice 13a "El Sur", but it turned out to be too late in the day. The sun had just set and I froze after the first few moves, lost feeling in my fingers, and fell shortly afterward when I was unable to squeeze a tufa pinch. Day one ended with a beer and a coffee (aka the classy vodka-redbull) in the bar before heading to the refuge for our big dinner.

All 30 of us crammed around the three tables and with empty stomachs scarfed down a hearty six course dinner. The food was classically spanish, meatballs, pasta in soup, communal salad, cole (a leafy green vegetable which, for spaniards, has the same childhood “ewww” factor as spinach does for americans), and pecan pie. It was delicious and we all enjoyed the meal with some nice red wine. After dinner, the party got going. Dymitri had just climbed his first 8a (13b, but it’s a big number for european grades), and, being Russian, ordered up shots of Vodka. Salva, the gym owner and trainer, first drank with Dymitri and then somehow got suckered into doing shots with anyone who had climbed something hard that day. “Encadenaste?” he would ask, (“did you send?” or “did you do it?”) and if the answer was yes then it was a shot of vodka for both of you. Since I had climbed something hard I was entitled to a shot and was quickly reminded of why I never drink vodka. Later in the night a lot of gear was given away with a game of Bingo. All in all the night was great. I felt honored to be with such a good group of people and to feel like I am now a real part of the community. The weekend gave me a chance to get to know a lot of the other climbers who I see in the gym, but who rarely climb with our group on the weekends.

On Sunday I had quite the productive day, I warmed up with a few climbs, including the absolute best 11c I have ever done. Then I got back on "El Sur" 13a from the day before and did it my second try of the day (third try total). On the same wall as "El Sur" were several great climbs being tried by other Freebloc climbers. It happened to be that as I was tying in, most of the group that had been climbing on the other side showed up at the wall. The climb starts with powerful moves up a very steep overhang followed by a short horizontal roof before easing off to a twenty degree overhang. The first crux comes early getting to the horizontal roof and the second crux comes toward the top involving catching two small sideways edges. I quickly and smoothly dispatched the roof, and rested, getting ready to tackle the real crux. At this point, the yells started and didn't stop.. "VENGA!!" "VENGA Chris!!" Carefully placing my feet, I grabbed the first small edge, re-adjusted my feet and threw for the second small edge. I caught it, but with the wrong three fingers! Instead of the big three, I landed with my pinky, ring, and middle. As I nearly peeled off the rock "AGUANTA!! AGUANTA!!" (Hold on!) cried the crowd below, and I held the swing. I climbed the incredibly tufa finish and clipped the chains. Climbing with a group of fanaticos means being excited about pushing others, and it means climbing A Muerte ("to death!") when it's your turn. 13a is so far the hardest I have climbed, and I had done only one before the weekend. At the same time I am realizing that it is not my limit by any means. I finished off the day with a 12b, a great fight and a nice onsight. I was exhausted, but very satisfied with the weekend.

Here is the video from the weekend. Remember I climb at 4:40.







Quick definition:
*Crux - the crux is the hardest move or series of moves on a climb. It is subjective, for example moves that are actually no harder than previous moves could be considered the crux if the the climber arrives at those moves extremely tired, thus making them feel much more difficult.

Thankful

In the last two weeks school work has started to ramp up, not really because of new work but because semester long projects are coming up. As happens every semester about this time I can feel an “oh shit” moment looming. You would think I’d have come up with a better name for it by now considering it’s predictable occurrence. The story and the feeling is the same every semester. I start irrationally thinking I’m failing my classes and get really stressed about the work I have left. Usually at the end of the semester I look back and wonder what all the fuss was about, but I can never seem to prevent the same stress-out the next semester. Oh well, given the relatively stress free semester I have had I can’t really complain.

           

It always bugs me when people miss class for dumb reasons. Sleeping in and hangovers don’t cut it. It’s not that I have a problem missing class, but I hate it when people don’t do something worthwhile with their time. Strategic slacking, that’s what I practice, and it’s a technique I learned from an early age. Friday afternoon was better spent driving to the mountains, and that last week of class in December was the perfect time for a sailing trip. And so, just like elementary school, I took Friday off and drove to the mountains for a long weekend.

           

I spent two days climbing at Montsant and a day in Siurana. Raco la Missa, the sector where we climbed in Montsant, is full of long beautiful routes. On Friday I climbed three routes and on Saturday I climbed two, yet both days I was exhausted. As a whole the climbing was great, but I’ll focus on my ascent of Akiri Bomboro 12d. Akiri Bomboro is 50 meters long. Read that last sentence again, 50 meters is 165 feet. To put that in perspective it’s about twice as long as a normal long route, and about 3-4 times as long as an average climb around Boulder. On Friday evening I tried it and after falling several times at the crux, about 10 meters up, I lowered off deeming the route impossible. Borja, having tried the route last year and arrived at the same conclusion, got to the same spot and fell. A few tries later, however, he switched his foot placement and casually climbed the crux. The sun was setting, so Borja lowered off and we decided to try again the next day. We headed back to camp ate, talked, and got some much needed rest.

           

Saturday we warmed up and went straight back to Akiri Bomboro. Borja went first and climbed bolt to bolt, placing the quickdraws (which connect the bolts in the rock to the climber’s rope) and figuring out the moves. After getting shut down the day before and being absolutely terrified by the prospect of climbing 50 meters of hard moves, I wasn’t sure I wanted to give it a go. However, after Borja told me it was one of the best routed he had tried I tied in and prepared for a fight. Feeling nervous, I climbed tensely until I reached the crux. Placing the opposite foot as last time, I committed to the move. With complete ease I reached the next hold, “facil!” I yelled down as I passed the moves that had spit me off the day before. My moment of relief was quickly crushed as I realized the weight of my situation: I faced 40 more meters of unknown climbing. Generally good pockets were split up by terrible holds and hard moves. At one point my foot popped off, and I barely held on as my body swung away from the rock. Bit by bit, my body became exhausted; fingers, forearms, back, and finally my feet, legs and core. I was past the hardest climbing, but the moves were committing. If I screwed up by giving any less that one hundred percent I would fell. After climbing well over 30 meters I was mentally spent and had a hard time going for moves that put my success at risk, but I did, and move after move the anchors crept closer. With 45 meters of rope beneath me, I carried extra weight through the easy-but tiring- final moves. Clipping the chains I yelled as loud as my parched throat would allow. I had to lower twice, since my rope is 70 meters and the route was 50, but I had extra time to appreciate the ascent. Without a doubt it was the hardest I have fought for a climb, and I easily spent 35 minutes on the rock. The following photo will give an idea of the size of the climb.

Akiri Bomboro 12d

A few things to note:

1: yes the tiny spec is me

2: my belayer, Borja, is a few meters below where the photo cuts off

3: the anchors are about 15 meters above where the photo cuts off

4: Montsant is beautiful!

On Sunday we went to Siurana. I was tired and I got spanked. I tried a 12c and lowered off the last bolt exhausted, sweaty, and scared. The climbing in Siurana is very technical, and very different from the style I had grown accustomed to over the last several weeks. It is also very common to have a huge runout (a long distance between bolts) between the final bolt and the anchors. It wasn’t my best day, but I still enjoyed myself. 

About to get shut down on the 12c

Enjoying a great, technical 11d in Siurana

I also had a great weekend in Margalef recently, I was tired from a week of training so I didn't accomplish a whole lot. I had a great time and I particularly enjoyed the cook-it-youself and all-you-can-eat meat buffet dinner on Sunday night. 5 euros have never bought so much food. Loved it!

This weekend I'm off to Montgrony for the Freebloc (my climbing gym) weekend where everyone from the gym heads out for a couple days of climbing and celebrating our shared passion with a big dinner saturday night. 

I'm thankful to be living

Two Months...

Two months into my adventure in Spain and I feel like I’m inching into the deep end, living the life I had dreamed of. As the weeks pass I feel like I am moving away from my weekday friends (school buddies) and growing closer with my weekend friends (climbing buddies). Many of my fellow students spend their weekends traveling, experiencing Italy, Amsterdam, Oktoberfest. I spend my weekends sleeping under tables, speaking Spanish, drinking expensive wine for cheap, being inspired by incredible cliffs and climber camaraderie, living simply and enjoying the quiet Spanish countryside. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Two months in and I’m not getting lost, well at least not regularly. I have a favorite kebab place where they know me (not sure that’s a good sign). They kindly shake my hand and offer me a free beer every time I show up at their door tired, hungry, and covered in chalk after the climbing gym. I know the metro short-cuts to get to class “on-time” by Spanish standards, which is ten minutes later than the rest of the world. Everyday life has become an exciting routine.

I had a great weekend in Margalef. I felt weak and surprisingly unmotivated, and with no anticipation or expectation I onsighted my first 12c. It was Sunday and I was tired from a long, but not particularly difficult Saturday. I was going to take it easy, maybe do a 12a or two, but my friend Hans wanted to try a long 12c. “Is that ok for your easy day?” he asked, it wasn’t what I had in mind but “sure” I said, “I’ll give it a go.” Not caring about the onsight, I simply climbed. Perhaps because I was tired, at least I thought I was, I climbed efficiently, resting at every opportunity, climbing the line of least resistance. After about 60 feet I hit the steep overhang, and with a relaxing breath I flowed through the moves effortlessly. A few clips later and I was at the anchors, wondering where the crux was. After several dedicated efforts to onsight a 12c, focusing on every move, climbing conservatively, I finally succeeded by breathing, moving, and not caring. I suppose the lesson is to hang on by letting go. Immediately afterward, I proceeded to onsight my 3^rd 12b, which earned me my hardest day of onsight climbing to date. Not bad for feeling tired and unmotivated.

Clouds and Sector Cabernet. The dark figure at the top is Ela, finishing the 12c I onsighted. She is belayed by Toni, far below at the ledge.  

Cold day!

Thanks for the jacket mom and dad!

In other and unrelated news, the democrats suffered a bit in the recent elections in the USA. After studying political science for the last couple years, the elections have given me a few things to think about. I remember in my American Political System class discussing reasons for party change over the years. It was clear that more than any other factor economic performance was the indicator of party change. When the economy is bad and unemployment is high, the discontentment is seen in the ballot box at the expense of the party in power. I can’t help but feel that the recent elections are further evidence of that tendency. That is why I think Boehner and party might be over-assuming their mandate when, speaking of the health care bill, he says something like “we need to begin the process of repealing that monstrosity” (not a direct quote, I had to re-translate the translated quote). I’m not sure unhappy, unemployed Americans are in favor of a private health care system that is usually tied to employment. Anyway, the other curiosity of the elections was the emergence of the Tea Party. After writing a final paper in my Political Parties and Interest Groups class on why the Tea Party would never emerge as a legitimate party, and exacerbated by an implicit attitude of “of course not, what are you stupid?” I seem to have been proven wrong. Perhaps my B+ in the class suggests my professor was incredibly prescient, but I’ll maintain that it was because our TA (he graded our papers) was a jerk and a hard-ass. I will say that I think that the recent Tea Party candidates are more “tea party certified” Republicans than they are new blood. More than anything, I would argue that the Tea Party is an expression of discontentment than it is a legitimate endorsement of new ideas, probably by people that are unhappy with recent democratic performance but who have enough of a short-term memory to remember a time when republicans screwed up. Recently in my Spanish society and politics class we discussed the differences between the parliamentary system of government and the presidential system, and, thinking about the elections, I am finally grateful to have a presidential system. Usually I am a proponent of parliamentary systems, which unify the executive and legislative branches, and I admire their efficacy in implementing change (provided an electoral system that produces few or two parties, but that’s a whole other discussion). However with the new Republican house majority and the stated goals of the presumed next Speaker of the House, I am happy to have the stubborn and deliberative presidential system. Change is hard won and slow, but equally hard to undo. I’m hoping I’ll be wrong in my prediction that the next few years will bring nothing but stagnation. We’ll see.

“Shit happens, cough it up”

-Captain Ron (or maybe Boehner?)

Montgrony and Montserrat

I have now spent nine days climbing in Cataluña and I am fully convinced that it is THE sport climbing paradise. This last weekend I climbed for two days at Montgrony and one day at Montserrat. Without a doubt Montgrony is the most spectacular place I have ever climbed. Sitting high above the valley town of Gombren, Montgrony boasts long, powerful climbs on perfectly sculpted tufas and pockets. Nature truly is the best route setter. The setting is as impressive as the climbing. Montgrony overlooks green meadows far below and steep mountains splotched with orange and red, hinting at the changing season. Inspired, I allowed myself to be talked into warming up on a long and overhanging 12a, which is several grades harder than my usual warm-up. However, to my great delight, I climbed well and clipped the chains with a slight pump. Physically and mentally I felt strong and light. After the success I had a couple weeks ago in Margalef, I made sure to be well rested for this weekend with the hope of climbing as hard as possible. With another warm-up, I decided I was ready to jump on my goal climb for the day “canyes i marro” 12c. I have consistently been trying to get my first 12c onsight, and on nearly every 12c I have completed I have come extremely close to succeeding.

Quick terminology lesson:

Onsight - climbing a route on the first try on lead from the bottom to the top without falling. The challenge lies in figuring out the moves on the fly, and it is significantly more difficult than redpointing.

Redpoint – climbing from the bottom to the top of a climb without falling, but having previously rehearsed the moves.

Nice view

Personally, I find onsighting the most fun, and getting the next grade onsight is a big deal for me. It’s funny, sometimes I am quiet about my number goals because within the climbing community (more so in the states) climbing with the goal of getting the next grade is often frowned upon. I guess for some paying attention to grades strips climbing of meaning and turns it into a superficial sport. I’ve never really understood that perspective, perhaps because I have always been motivated by goals, but also because pursuing a higher grade usually means I am challenging myself. Rising to meet a challenge is one of the most important parts of the climbing experience, and it’s why I spend many hours training and as much time possible out on the rock. I relish the unique challenges climbing presents, particularly sport climbing, and I like the fact that success and failure are clear-cut. There is no fudging success, 99% isn’t good enough. A climb is completed or it is not. I find the strict definition of success refreshing. Because of this, success on a hard climb is incredibly fulfilling, and failure can be harsh, demoralizing, and frustrating. My failure to onsight “canyes i marro” was the latter.

The climb was intimidating, overhanging at least 30 degrees for the full 80 feet. The movement was perfect, long moves between tufas, intricate and powerful. I climbed through the lower cruxes and rested below the last bolt. Slightly pumped, I pulled into the final moves. A small edge, two small two finger pockets, a high step, another bad edge and I was staring down the final move to the last big hold. I lunged for the chalked jug only to find a flat sloping edge. My fingers tried to catch the small incut at the bottom, but I was off. With the anchors in my face I slowly fell backwards and watched my season long goal slip from my grasp. I had failed. Though on the bright side I did swear in Spanish on my way down, so at least my Spanish is improving. I rested and walked the route second try.

 Best 11d ever!

Tufa pinch

After finishing the day our group went to the nearby bar for a beer. I feel fortunate to have found such a great group of friends and climbers. Our group is very diverse, and even though I’m the youngest by several years, climbing and castellano connect us. When it comes to climbing we’re all fanatics, and I have enjoyed getting to know every person. Usually we camp out at night. I bivy outside and others sleep in their camper vans (which completely put my truck to shame). This time we were going to camp in an abandoned refuge so that we would be safe from the forecasted rain. Arriving at the refuge, we cooked dinner, chatted, drank some local wine (very alcoholic!), and enjoyed each other’s company until nearly 1 AM. We decided to call it a night. At this exact moment a group of about ten Spaniards, a large family, arrived and took over the refuge. With cases of beer for the “adults” and cases of coke for the kids, it was obvious they were there to party. Knowing it would be impossible to sleep in the refuge I opted to sleep under a picnic table to hopefully be sheltered from the rain. It was a bit misty and I thought the table would be fine. Despite the fact that my legs barely fit underneath the crossbar I slept quite well... at first. At 2 AM it started raining. At 3AM it started pouring. At 4 AM my table started leaking. By 4:45 AM I was soaked and the dripping was intolerable so I decided to move to the refuge. Yelling, screaming, and drunken singing were the only refuge I found. Curling up in a corner, I tried to sleep. At 6 AM the family passed out and comfortable sleep was finally achieved.

The nest day the weather was terrible, but surprisingly the rock was dry. I put down a great 12d second try. After fantastic day we drove back to Barcelona with sore shoulders and forearms and planned on going to Montserrat to climb technical, vertical routes the next day. The next morning we met in plaza Espanya, drove to El Bruc for some Moroccan mint tea and to meet with the others, and then we went climbing. Montserrat is very similar to my Colorado favorite Shelf Road. Clipping the chains requires precise footwork, correct sequencing, and pocket pulling strength. Feeling tired I still managed to climb “En boca cerrada no entran moscas” 12c on my second try, but it was a fight from the ground to the chains. All in all, it was a great weekend, and I continue to be grateful for the experiences and opportunities presented to me in Spain.

“Live whatever life you choose honestly... When you live honestly, you cannot separate your mind from your body, or your thoughts from your actions.”

-Mark Twight

Mom and Dad and Margalef

Over the course of about three weeks I’ve managed to climb outside 6 days, show my parents around Barcelona for two weekends, and, by strategically using national holidays and one absence, miss only two classes. Pretty good for being a full time student!!

My decision to come to Barcelona was somewhat hasty. About two years ago I was considering about studying abroad but after a bit of searching and talking with friends I was convinced that a semester abroad would not give me the that freedom I wanted. I pretty much put it out of my mind until last spring when a couple of friends were going to be studying abroad and I ended up looking into my own options. I found a program that seemed to offer me what I was looking for, and with a couple weeks until the application deadline I figured I would give it some thought. I knew that I wanted to go abroad for spring so that I could travel the following summer, but I wasn’t sure about the whole year. At the same time I was attempting to secure my housing plans for the next year, and that same night I got a call from a friend whom I had been planning to live with.

“Hey, we found a great house and we’re going down tomorrow morning to put down the deposit, I need to know if you’re in on it.”

Decision time... Since I hadn’t told my parents (after all I had been thinking about going abroad for half of a day), I gave them a call. Usually we talk for a while, but this conversation was to the point. I asked if it was ok to study abroad for a year, and they said, “of course, go for it!”

Done deal. One day I was thinking about my next year in Boulder, the next day I was going to Barcelona for the year. I called my parents back and told them I was going, and not surprisingly they answered “well, I guess we’ll be taking a trip to Spain”

Over the next few months Mom and Dad planned a full Spain tour, beginning and ending in Barcelona. Three weeks ago the usual mix of excitement, uncertainty, and jet-lag the Jorde parents arrived in Barcelona. The first day I decided to introduce them to the city the same way I was introduced to the city – walking for miles and miles. We pretty much saw it all on foot. Cuitadella Park, Arc de Triomf, Olympic Village, Barrio Gótico, and the Borne District, it was the whirlwind walking tour. At the end of the day I welcomed them to Spanish cuisine by choosing a Japanese-Peruvian fusion restaurant, after all they would be eating Spanish food for a few weeks so why not start with something different?

On Saturday and Sunday Mom and Dad finished up the sightseeing tour with visits to the Picasso Museum and the Sagrada Familia, and I joined them for an afternoon in Park Guell and a trip to the Joan Miró museum. Park Guell is an incredible display of Gaudí’s genius and while I’m not sure he would be happy about the plethora of squeaky-mouth-toy vendors, he would certainly be honored that his park brings so many people together to enjoy each other’s company and the beauty of nature. If you don’t know what a squeaky-mouth-toy is then you have something to be thankful for on Thanksgiving. Unfortunately I can’t be thankful for that, so I’ll settle for having two amazing and supportive parents that are passionate about life and always looking forward to the next adventure.

After Mom and Dad jumped on train to continue their Spain adventure, I met up with a friend and drove up to Margalef to skip school for a day and enjoy Spain Day with two days of climbing. We decided to risk the uncertain weather forecast, and I’m glad we did because we ended up getting a great day on Monday and a rainy day on Tuesday. We arrived late morning and since I had yet to pick up a guidebook, I took us straight back to the crag where I had climbed on my previous visit. I was happy to head back to the same crag because it meant that I could have another shot at the climb that had sent me ground-wards last time. After a couple tufa-pinching warmups, I tied in beneath P.G.B (12c). Swinging my arms, focusing my breath, I tried to visualize executing the delicate crux moves perfectly. Lowering off of the climb last time I remembered thinking “as long as I stick the crux, I’ll hang on to the top” and so I focused all of my attention on the four hard moves that would determine success or failure. Or so I thought.

Starting up the climb, I quickly pulled through steep and powerful moves and arrived at the rest before the crux feeling fresh and focused. A few chalk dips later, and riding a deep exhalation I launched into the small edges with precision. I executed the moves flawlessly, and soon found myself on the sustained moves that make up the final 50 feet to the anchors. It was here, on terrain that had felt secure on the previous try, that I started flailing. I grabbed the wrong pockets and used the worse footholds. At one point I was hanging onto small edges when my feet cut loose after choosing the smallest pockets as footholds. I was sure I was off, and that I had failed. Somehow I still held on, managed to get my feet back on, and keep climbing. Unfortunately, since I had wasted so much energy my forearms and back were pumping out just as I was entering the bulk of the sustained climbing. Thinking failure was imminent, I did what any panicked animal does and I started motoring. “Just go man, just go” I kept telling myself, and somehow move after move I was still clinging to the rock. Before long I was staring down the last long move to the final jug. Out of juice, I wasn’t going to make it. Fall now or fall later, so I went for it. One yell (well, more of a scream) later and I felt the thud of my fingers catching the jug. Surprised and exhausted, I quickly clipped the chains and slumped into my harness. Despite the fact that I climbed terribly for the majority of the route, I finished victorious, barely.

Tuesday it rained.  

Not tuesday

After a whopping two days of class, and two days of motivated gym training I jumped back in the car and went straight back to Margalef for round three. Friday I was still a little tired from the week, so I enjoyed the incredible moderate routes of Can Verdures. Looking over my shoulder as the day ended, the crown of Margalef, Racó de les Espadelles, seemed to glow golden long after the sun had set, and I was filled with excitement for the next day.

Saturday we drove up the steep and winding road to Racó de les Espadelles, all the while wondering if the rental car was going to make it. The short approach passed quickly as we were captivated by the view of the valley cut by the Montsant river. I warmed up slowly, incrementally increasing the intensity to be fresh for my goal climb of the day, “La Gomorra” a powerful and overhanging 12c. When I was ready, I tied in and spent a few minutes eyeing the moves. The climbing was very obvious for the first half: a few pockets linked together by big dynamic moves. About half-way a huge hole appeared to offer a good rest before the sequential small pocket stabbing that led to the anchors. I memorized the moves and committed to the powerful opening moves. I quickly found myself at the hole resting, but I blew the onsight a few moves later as the pocket I went for turned out to be shallow and useless. I lowered off, rested, and sent second go. Here are some photos.

 Hard moves to start

 Resting at the hole halfway up

A couple moves from the anchors

Feeling strong, I decided to have a go at the nearby route Sudoku 12d. The hard climbing comes right away. The crux move comes just after the first bolt: a huge move to a pocket. After that, a mono (which I used to clip the next quickdraw) and several tiny two finger pockets separated by small delicate moves end at a large pocket. A few long moves between small, but good, holds follow before the climbing eases for the last few bolts. After falling at the crux move, I worked the moves on rest of the route and saved my energy for a second try. It was a good thing I did, because as soon as I lowered I rested a few minutes and tied back in to finish the climb before I was left in total darkness. I knew that as long as I stuck the crux move I would finish the route, not because the next moves were easy, but because there was no way I was letting go. Luck was on my side and I quickly dispatched the crux move and soon found myself through the next hard moves and at the large pocket. Feeling surprisingly tired, the rest of the climb was a secure struggle, I wasn’t going to fall but I had to give it my full attention. The day ended up being my hardest day of climbing ever, as I had only every climbed two 12b’s in one day so doing a 12c and a 12d both second go was pretty good!

Sunday was a bit of a logistical disaster and despite feeling very strong and motivated I didn’t get a chance to get on anything difficult. Our first crag was too cold, our next crag was too hot, and by the time we got to the third crag we only had time for two routes before sunset. I basically spent the day warming up then re-warming up.

Back in Barcelona my parents came back for a second weekend after spending a couple weeks traveling around Spain, and it sounds like they had a great time. On Saturday we went up to Montserrat, a nearby mountain range with a monastery secluded high above the valley below. We spent a great day hiking around and enjoying the views.

Mom and Dad's Spain Adventure

Montserrat

That’s all for this installment, I’m off to Montgrony for a three day weekend. A friend told me it’s the best place he’s climbed in Spain, so hopefully I’ll have something good to say next week. 

Weekend in Margalef

I just returned from a weekend of climbing at Margalef and I am now positive that I made the right choice to come here for a year. Anyone who has seen a climbing movie in the last couple years has seen footage of Margalef and it was one of the crags that topped my to-do list. So, when the opportunity came to climb there this weekend there was no choice but to go. Simply put, Margalef is AMAZING!!!! Limestone conglomerate pockets, slight overhangs (or big ones if you’re up for it!), 30 meter routes, perfect weather, beautiful mountains, the list goes on, but all I can say is that I lowered off of every route smiling. I think some people thought that I was kind of crazy for being so excited after every climb. Maybe after a year of incredible climbing I’ll look back at the routes I did this weekend and say “yeah, those were decent,” but for now I’ll stay smiling and hungry for more. We spent both days climbing the same sector, but there was plenty to do, and plenty to do next time. Since I was coming off of a nasty cold and had not climbed a difficult route in over a month and a half, I thought I would go with what my partners wanted to do and just try and get my technique back by climbing a lot of routes. I climbed horribly on my warm-up, but I’ve come to realize that usually when I’m terrible on the warm-up I still do well later on, and Saturday was no different. We moved on to do a really long 11b that gave me some serious calf cramps. At this point I still wasn’t feeling in top form, so I was pretty surprised when I casually on-sighted our next climb, a 30 meter 12a, and lowered off feeling fresh. The route involved some technical movement through the vertical lower section followed by an overhanging sustained headwall, every move was thought provoking and I was happy with how well I managed to rest and read the moves. Following this I jumped on a great 12c at a nearby wall and realized that in Margalef every wall is steeper than it looks, and what appeared to be a vertical slab was in fact an overhanging pocket haul. After the first five meters the rock ends in a sloping shelf before bulging out in a clean overhanging face... beautiful! It turns out the sloping shelf was completely hold-less and after a few attempts trying more stylish technique I gave up and simply threw myself up like a beached whale, it worked. With a little golden limestone smear on my clothes I tackled the headwall. After a few powerful moves I fell at the crux, but quickly pulled back on climbed to the top. I’ll get it next time for sure.

Climbing a great 11b the second day

At the end of the day we hiked back down just as the setting sun lit up the golden limestone of the surrounding mountains. It’s amazing how calming a few moments in the mountains at sunset can be. I’ve been fortunate to see quite a few incredible mountain sunsets in my life, and somehow they always stick out.

Sunset in Margalef

Sunset in Chamonix from the Cosmiques Hut, 2008

We drove into the small town of Margalef, which totals about six buildings, and went into the bar for a beer. I also picked up a bag of fresh almonds from the area, and they are definitely some of the best I’ve ever had (I was also starving). We were getting tired so we jumped back in the car and drove a few minutes to what appeared to be a picnic area and camped out for the night.   

 My glorious bivy

The next day we went back to the same area and climbed a bunch of great routes. I actually climbed a tufa for the first time which was really cool. At the end of the day I spent a bit of time looking over the guidebook and I immediately starting thinking about when I was going to return. Lucky for me Margalef is a winter destination so the season is only beginning, and I look forward to many more days there. After only a taste of what Margalef has to offer I’m feeling very motivated to train and climb as much as I can.

In other news, Dad made his son very proud...

This week is going to be the second week of classes, and I’m looking forward to settling into a schedule. Mom and Dad are here this weekend, so I’ll be able to show them around the city a bit.

Thanks for reading, I hope all is well on your end!!

Crash Course in Catalan Culture

Over the last couple weeks I’ve gotten to know Barcelona and Cataluña quite a bit better, first through a weekend trip to Besalú and Figueres, and most recently through the festival La Merce. The week in between was filled with essays and presentations, so I’ll just write about the interesting stuff.

Besalú and Figueres:

Last Saturday a group of us jumped on a bus to head up to a small town, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, called Besalú. No one in our group had heard of it, but anytime I asked about it I got a response something like “Besalú? Oh, the place with the wall” or “I hear it has a nice bridge.” After about an hour of driving we arrived and sure enough, there was a giant wall and bridge. Apparently Besalú was a point of much conflict over the course of several centuries. Of course, these days the old part of town is thriving on that history and is usually packed with tourists. We were there pretty early so the town was empty and stores were just starting to open. For about an hour and half we walked around the cathedral, courtyards, and old streets. We wandered around until we hit the very abrupt transition to modern day: one side of the street is ancient, the other side is completely modern. In the end the two hours we spent in Besalú was plenty to see everything we wanted, and we were excited to get back on the bus to head up to Figueres and check out the Dalí museum.

See the face??  

After a nice drive through the countryside we arrived in Figueres. Before the trip I had seen a TV program about traveling through Cataluña and in the program they showed the Dalí house in this beautiful village on the coast. Thinking that was where were going I pack a swimsuit and beach stuff. Of course, the TV program took place in Cadaques (Dalí’s vacation home) and we were in Figueres (location of the Dalí museum), so I was mildly disappointed to have packed a bathing suit and towel for a trip to a land locked city. Nevertheless, the Dalí museum was amazing, and I was stunned by his creative genius. It seemed that each piece had several layers of depth, and each piece had some sort of significance that contributed to the overall work of art that is the museum itself. The Dalí museum is a complete experience, so the photos can’t do justice, but here are some of my favorites.

See the man? (look at the green strip...it's a tie)

Last week was kind of intense with a lot of school work crammed into four days. When Thursday afternoon rolled around it seemed like all of Barcelona shared my feelings and was ready for the weekend.

La Mercé:

La Mercé is basically a celebration of everything Catalan. Originally it took place on the 24^th of September, but one day of partying is never enough for Cataluña so it was decided that the weekend closest to the 24^th would be celebrated with an extra day off and three full days of festivities (which now start on Thursday too). La Merce is supposed to honor the patron saint of Barcelona after she cured a locust plague, but in reality the celebration is simply of all things Catalan. These days the celebration includes old traditions like Casteller competitions and Sardana dancing, as well as recent post-Franco additions like the Correfoc (fire run). Every night there was a firework show on the beach, which was a great time to relax, chat, drink cheap wine, and get ready for the evening out. In addition to the major events, a few museums were free for the weekend so I took the opportunity to check out the Picasso museum. Unfortunately the Dalí museum has ruined all other art for me because despite the fact that Picasso’s art is amazing, in comparison it’s kind of dull. Anyway, as a whole the weekend was incredible, here is a recap of the coolest events...

Sardana:

If you’re worried about cracking a hip while dancing then the Sardana is for you! It is in no way an exciting dance, but is does have decent amount of history. Some say it started as early as the 16^th century in the Empordá region of Cataluña, but it really grew in popularity when it was adopted by all of Cataluña in the early 20^th century. The dance is very structured: the steps are calculated, men and women must alternate in the circle, pairs are never separated, and the arm movements are determined by the third of the dance (first third down, 2^nd and 3^rd thirds arms up). Some of the older people take this stuff seriously...

Castellers:

You probably haven’t heard about Castellers, and for good reason, chances are they’re banned in the US. Basically Castellers are huge and complex human towers. Catalans have developed competition based on height and difficulty of the towers. The tradition comes from Tarragona, but these days every major town or city has a team. Currently the biggest and best team is from Vilafranca: with over 480 members and the record of a ten person tall tower!! Apparently there some serious rivalry among the various top teams. Also, it turns out that every person on top of the tower is a kid, usually not older that seven. I’m still trying to decide whether or not I think it’s child abuse. Here are some photos and a video of the Casteller competition (the team from Vilafranca are wearing turquoise).

Correfoc: What the foc?

“We are Catalans, and danger is our middle name”

I’d have believed him if he’d said it, particularly after witnessing the Castellers. Unfortunately, instead of these words of truth the speaker chose to give a lengthy and overly political speech. Not that I understood it considering it was in Catalan, but I did pick up a few key quotes... “Fascism!... Corruption!... Our Land! Our People!!” and luckily there were the people me complaining in Castellano (spanish), “why does he have to be so damn political!” Either way the Correfoc was a Catalan celebration to the core. It was the vision of a post-Franco era artist who decided to have a firework show that included the people. The best way I can describe it is if it were a costume house party with the theme “mythical creatures meet modern warfare.” Except that in this case the “house” is all of Barcelona. Basically there are people dressed as devils, and gigantic dragons all loaded with fireworks and sparklers that shoot AT the surrounding people. The spectators either stand far back and watch, or they cover themselves and run through the explosion of flaming sparks. I started out as the former, but sooner or later...




I only got burned a few times, but no worries.

I'm off to go climbing for the weekend tomorrow!! Not sure where we're going, but I'm getting picked up tomorrow at 9 and will find out then. Hopefully I'll have some good stuff to post after the weekend.

First days in Barcelona

It’s been just over a week since I arrived in Barcelona, and I’ve just begun to feel somewhat settled. By settled I mean that I know where to find vegetables to supplement the seemingly vegetable free Spanish diet, and I can find my apartment, the school, some good coffee, and the climbing gym and only get horribly lost 50% of the time. So far so good!

Last week was more than hectic. A combination of jetlag, orientation activities, spanish classes, and extremely late nights has left me a bit exhausted, but also extremely excited about the coming months. After only a week I am already thankful that I will be staying for the whole year, and I think that even a year is barely enough time to really get to know Barcelona. While walking the streets it is difficult to grasp how huge the city is. Considering that every block is packed with cafes, museums, bars, and art that somehow capture a slice of Barcelona’s long and unique history it would take a lifetime to appreciate everything the city has to offer. Nevertheless I am determined to do what I can, and I have managed to see and do a good amount in the first week.

Sampling the night life with friends has been great. While I don’t think I’ll ever really adapt to coming home at 6am it’s been heaps of fun every night that I have. It can be difficult to have a shorter night because of metro logistics. Most nights the metro closes at midnight and opens at 6am, which means you either don’t go out or you go out really late. Of course taxis run all night, provided you have cash, and I learned this lesson the hard way. Early last week after a lecture on how to travel safely in Barcelona I thought I would heed the advice and only bring exactly what I needed for the night out: cash for the night, metro pass, identification. No pick-pocket was going to get me! After a bunch of hours of bar hopping we ended up at a club, and a little while later I ended up chatting with someone at the bar and got separated from the group. It wasn’t a problem, and I figured I’d get a taxi and head home to get barely enough sleep for a 10 am orientation session the next morning. Upon leaving I opened my wallet to see that I had spent the cash for the night, had no means of withdrawing cash, had no credit card, and the metro was still closed for another two hours. No choice but to walk. I figured it would take me about twenty or thirty minutes so I set off in the direction I thought was correct. After numerous stops to ask directions and over two and a half hours later I arrived at a metro stop in the opposite corner of the city and promptly found my way back to my apartment. Now I carry my ATM card.

I haven’t done a lot of intentional sightseeing, but our group did do a few tours to different locations around the city. The Barrio Gotico is one of the coolest places I have ever been. Narrow winding roads, beautiful courtyards, high walls, and incredible architecture define the Barrio Gotico and it’s impossible not to imagine what life was like centuries ago. Naturally, I pictured a Hollywood inspired knights in armor, blacksmith shops, kings and queens sort of scene. This picture was dashed when our teacher told us that in the pre-sewage days people who lived above the roads would heave buckets of their shit into the road after yelling “dirty water!” and the unfortunate souls below had but a few moments to avoid the incoming mess.

On my first free morning in Barcelona before my orientation began I checked out one of the local climbing gyms to start meeting some people and get oriented in the climbing community. I ended up joining a different gym called Freebloc, which is by far the best climbing gym I have ever been to. For those familiar with CATS in boulder, Freebloc is similar in style and about twice as big. The climbers who go there are damn good too, and my ego has taken a beating by repeatedly falling on routes graded the same as my casual warm-ups back in Colorado and California. All the climbers take training seriously and most climbers are following some sort of interval training plan. I’m trying to soak up as much as I can from my fellow climbers and the owner Salva, a well regarded trainer. After spending a couple afternoons running around Montjuic, an amazing old castle/museum and gigantic park, I finally came across someone walking around with a chalkbag dangling from his pack. I quickly caught up to him and asked if he was headed to Foixarda, a local tunnel turned public climbing gym. He said that he was and agreed to show me the way. I had been surprised my how few climbers climbed at Freebloc given how huge climbing is in Cataluña, but Foixarda quickly put my doubts to rest. I have never seen such a scene, literally a couple hundred people in harnesses and rock shoes climbing traverses and routes up and around the three hundred-foot tunnel. Amazing!! Since I was running I didn’t have my gear, but I can’t wait to go back.

Photo: Montjuic from the Plaza España (not my photo)

Otherwise, I’ve really been enjoying getting to know everyone in my group and residencia, and I’m excited to share the semester and year with all of them. Living in a foreign county makes all aspects of life a little more challenging, and some times a lot more challenging. Too often people confuse the path of fulfillment with the path of least resistance, and I think that the challenges I face abroad only further enrich my life. I find satisfaction in the small daily interactions. Introducing myself to the local cafe owner or trying to find the proper size of “pie de gato” (climbing shoes) after trying on numerous pairs are the type of little victories that outweigh the regular inconveniences. The adventure has just begun, and I hope to savor every moment.

That’s Barcelona Part 1!! Stay tuned, I’ll try to keep future posts shorter and more frequent. I’m heading up to the Dalí museum in Figueres on Saturday and hopefully climbing in Montserrat on Sunday.

All the best!

Chris