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