Alps, days, and keys…

This is going to be a longer entry so grab your favorite hot beverage, sit down to laugh, cry and get a peek into the last two weeks of French life.

We are in the holiday’s of Toussaints, which is All Saints Day. High schoolers get almost two weeks off for this holiday to be with family and put flowers at graves of relatives. For me, it was a little sad when the bell rung on that last Friday. I missed a little more than I would like to admit being with my family and such, but the saving thought was the trip coming up with the climbing group from Mazamet.

Four days in the Alps. A place called Le Verdone. It is considered the Grand Canyon of France. It is a different sort of climbing, not like Indian Creek or anything, but it is calcite rock which is super sticky until you have a few years of grease and food scum on it, then it gets a little ‘skatey’ as they say here. And to get to the base of the cliffs you either have to go thirty minutes out of your way and walk another half hour to get to the base, or you rappel down as many pitches as you want to do and then climb up. First day was pretty easy for everyone, about 6 pitches and we got in before dark. I was super stoked to do this one climb called La Demande, a 13 pitch, 5c-6a (5.10-5.10c) route that was dubbed one of the most beautiful climbs in Europe. Had to be done.

Well this day, day two, we decided to rappel down, and after some route finding and all that climbing stuff, we got on the wall at 1:30. I was optimistic, my partner for the day Dave was as well, but I was going to have to lead all the pitches if we were going to be out by dark. So we headed out, but before we left they gave me a headlamp “just in case”. I reluctantly put it in my pack and started up the next pitch. It really was beautiful. There were some hard pitches in there, and it was marked in the guide book that it was bolted, but thirty feet between each bolt is a little sketchy at points. Pitch seven and we were more than half way there. David came up over the lip to the belay station, smiling as he does, and said, “Et alors?” (and so?) it means more than this usually and in this case it meant, “So what do you think, it is 4:30 we have about three more hours of climbing and about an hour and a half of sunlight, do we go for it or head back down?” He was tired I knew, I was to really. A little more mentally than physically, but what I am learning about climbing is that there is a goal that is to be reached, and it is good to go for that will all you have, but the fun is in the process, and you have to know when it is time to say done. I said done.

We were at the last rappel, pulling the rope throught, using headlamps that I was happy to have, and i was in the process of telling David to be careful because there was a knot in the end of the rope, and just as i said it, the rope came out of his hand and there it was, a knot at the end of the rope dangling in the void, 15 feet or so from us. At the end of thirty minutes it came back to David’s hand and we continued the decent. Once on the ground though, we had another 6 miles to walk. We started in the wrong direction. But in about the third mile in the right direction, and no one stopping to give us a ride, one of the guys from our group came to get us. We had a little run in with a wild boar as well, but only some snorting and russling in the bushes, enough to give me a little fright at least.
We thought that we were going to get it from the rest of the group, but come to find out that there was still another group on the wall and by this time it was close to ten in the evening. We helped fish the other two off the wall while huddling near each other and jumping around to fight the cold North wind that was coming down on us. We all made it back, no problem, but I was still aching for that send of La Demande.

It was just going to be two of us again the next morning. A younger climber Nico and myself. After waking early and getting all our stuff together we had upped out numbers to three because Jeremy, who is one of the stronger climbers there, 5.12d, decided to come along. It was a relief to have someone else take the lead every other pitch, because if not I would have been out of gas for the last pitches which were the hardest. At nine in the morning we set off from flat ground to spend the next seven hours jamming our fingers in cracks, stemming up slippery chimenies and looking behind us every little while at the floor that was getting further and further away. The leaves were changing and the temps were perfect, it was a great day to send a good route.

I found out I love chiminies. We had just punched through our first real chimney and Jeremy said how he didn’t really want to lead the next one, so I took the lead. I was on some bad holds, pulling a little to hard when my feet slipped and my right pointer finger caught onto a good corner...ooo that hurt. When I looked down blood was pouring out of a dime sized peeler in my finger and Jeremy in polite French told me that it was dripping on him. “Oh sorry” I said and taped it up as best I could after flinging some of the blood on the wall just for good measure. I finished out the last beautiful pitch and then it was an easy exit to the rest of our party waiting for us all to cheer us and congratualte us. Beer and conversation followed that evening, and all but I was to climb the next day.

But the story is not over. After 5 more hours in the car to get to Mazamet. I was in the car with a friend and his mom to give me a lift to my house when I thought I should get out my keys. Good idea, except that I couldn ‘t find them. I all but emptied my entire sack out in the back seat there to look for them, and I found nothing. Welp... what now. Luckily I live in a place where there is a common door and then seperate appartment, I knocked on the door and happily there was someone just in the hallway there. He let me in, told me it was stupid that I lost my key, as if i was happy about it, and proceeded to the back garden to see if I could get into my bathroom where I knew that the window was broken.

After a hop up onto an about-to-fall-shack, hold onto the side of the house and switch feet in a small vent hole I was just able to reach my window, climb in and go to the front door. GREAT! Not only do I have no keys, but the only way to lock and unlock my door is with a key. Downclimb to my stuff, link up all the quickdraws I had and haul all my stuff up one bag at a time. After two bags, I had to climb down once more to call Laura an hour later than scheduled. Upon the return I only wanted a shower and a bed, I turned on the water and there was only cold. Well, no shower. To bed. I still didn’t get my key, which was in the car i drove to Verdone in, until a day later, and there were plentyt more stories of being locked out of the outer door for hours, pleading with the neighbor to let me in later, and then finally getting my key at seven in the morning the next day.

Well as for adventures and stories, I hope that there are more to share with you, I know that there will be.
Cheers