I might not be sending hard, but since Joe and I have been in Cuenca we’ve been “getting our Spanish on” non-stop. It’s always a goal of mine to master the language as much as possible while I’m here. But it often proves more difficult, as we often hang with peeps that speak at least a little English and act as a crutch for our learning. This time around we’ve been chilling with Primo, a super cool local who’s down to hang and climb, and speaks zero English. At first you think it’s going to be pretty nerve racking spending a whole rest day with this cat, but then you see how you can adapt to the circumstances when forced to. Everyday it gets a little easier to remember words, and now I’m even on the program of studying a little Spanish every morning over coffee. If I can’t freakin’ climb I might as well do something useful while I’m half way across the world.
Siempre
Tipico de Cuenca
Not the best viewing over a meal.
Ooh macho! You’re scary!
Local indoor gym
Primo is the shizz.
Joe killin’ it as usual.
Pablo Barbaro… this guy is getting married today!!
We are still here in Cuenca. I can’t say the style is my favorite. It has been a challenge for me to get siked on a project so far. My first days I sent this awesome 12c pretty quickly. Since I had been doing some 12d’s fast and my “intro route” at the new area went well, I decided to jump on my first 13a of the trip. Considering that 13a is still my hardest redpoint, I know trying one on a road trip is a little pushy. But I was feeling cocky from my send and went for it. Well it was awful, completely miserable, and I basically wanted to quit rock climbing afterwards. Even worse at the top I couldn’t make it to the anchors to clean the route because of a torrential downpour that started offering a menacing metaphor for my feelings. Later I hear that the route IS indeed very hard for the grade, but that the style is probably the real issue. After this I tried a 12d, lowering my standards but not allowing complete failure. It too was heinous, taking me three lowerings before I could even get through the crux. Basically this inhuman, totally man-made style goes like this: grab chipped pocket, now put feet on non-existent foot smears and do HUGE move to next chipped pocket. I think the fact that someone makes the climbs this way pisses me off more than anything. On a natural climb you can’t say, who the hell would do THAT!! Nature did it and that’s ok, not some tall-ass jo-shome. Regardless, I’m trying to learn to love this place. It IS the only dry place in Spain, and the town is rad, the people are even cooler and there is climbing to be done everyday. Plus if something feels this hard it means I must be getting stronger by doing it, all grades aside.
We made a collective decision to leave Rodellar after the fifth straight day of rain. We would have left earlier but without a car, one to many bag, and a country that shuts down on Sundays, it was pretty much impossible. When we did score a ride we drove to Terradets where a couple of our friends had reported the areas as climbable. Yes this treacherous weather is country-wide even showering into southern France, the other top-notch place to climb at the moment. When you bring up the terrible conditions the Spanish just look at you agreeably claiming “No es normal!” Seems the spring rains has hung around for yet another month, and we have been here 20 days now in which only five or six have been rain-free.
When we arrived to Terradets the conditions were indeed better but the night before it had rained yet again and a few days would be needed before a reasonable amount of lines were climbable. It was nice to stay there for a few nights with a crew though. We camped on an old train station platform that I found out later has been condemned. Gathered underneath its rickety roof are a few thrown-out chairs and a plywood table that we would gather around and cook dinner at every night. As the train rolled through each evening to its present-day stop a few hundred yards up, I’m sure we looked like regular bunch of hobos. Though the descent looking rentals cars parked next to us caused some queries.
After searching Cataluna we found that most things we were wet or in the least still drying, so we decided to make a move south to an area we had heard about since our last trip to Spain, Cuenca. The town is super historical and the climbing ample. We figured it was a gamble not knowing much about the area or what the weather would do to the rock, but just about anything is better than watching walls dry. As soon as we arrived we knew we had made the right choice. The town in itself is enough for a trip. It lies right amongst the cliffs, and besides Barcelona and Madrid is the hippest town I’ve seen in Spain yet. Youngsters with guitars stroll the streets, amazing parks line the edges of the city, and the gorges where the climbing is has a huge bike/ running path where you see the city locals getting there afternoon work out. It has definitely made me rethink my “I don’t know if I can live in this country” statement I made after not being able to find one decent fruit in an entire supermarket.
The climbing is interesting. Joe and I had no idea that at least 80% of the routes here are manufactured. And this is not an old school practice, it is most definitely still being done today. It’s really not a huge deal to me, when in Rome as they say, but it does make it a little easier to bitch when a route isn’t going your way. “Are you serious! They want you to go where??” They being the evil people that developed this impossible climb. The best part is that we are climbing, and consistently at that. It has rained a few times, but the rock dries quickly and many of the cliffs are protected. Future plans are uncertain. It sounds a bit petty, but the weather really decides our fate.
Driving into the Cataluna region of Spain.
Our new camping spot.
Chillin’ hobo style.
Ghetto shot in Terradets; nice wall though.
Just another rad unbolted cliff in Spain.
The beautiful rock in Cuenca.
View of Cuenca city.
Yeah I know it’s slanted. I don’t know how to fix that on photoshop yet.
Joe onsighting 8a plus!
And so it goes that we must leave Rodellar. The rain has refused to stop, and Joe is very close to losing his mind. There are a few walls I could keep busy on, but the conditions have made it difficult to be motivated at all. We plan to bail to Cataluna where the conditions are also a little dodgy. If it is impossible there we will continue north to France. It seems likely that we will extend our tickets at this point, unless we get sick of the climbing in Europe that is.
We drink coffee every morning and watch the rain.
In response to the lack of climbing, Joe has begun looking into his “softer” side.
Yes, you used to be able to climb under that waterfall.
A little 12b that’s fun, but not full of the dope-ass colonettes Rodellar is known for.
A man about to lose his mind!!
Here are a few pictures courtesy of Spencer. It’s a pretty hard 12c. Not the typical Rodellar style, but we’re at the climb-what’s-dry point in our trip.
Today a lot of people left Rodellar. We had a chance to go too, but decided to stick it out. It’s harder than you think to make these split minute decisions, especially when you don’t have a car and you may be putting yourself or someone else in an pain in the ass situation later on. Because of my terrible indecisiveness, as soon as I decide on one thing I am constantly burdened with the thought that I have chosen incorrectly. But here we are day two of rest, though really only the first day of forced rest. The sun is shining but the forecast looks grim for the next few days all over spain. At least we have umbrellas.
We are here in Rodellar resting, climbing, but mostly bitching. It’s funny how when you get the opportunity do exactly what you want to do, you have to find something wrong with the situation. Like yes, you’re in Europe, but shit the internet and food really suck! Yes you’re climbing these incredible tufa features, but shit the constant rain makes those suckers really, really wet, and therefore unclimbable. Yes we probably should just be happy that we are not sitting at some desk job in Nebraska with a terrible downloading habit, and yes i’m working on that. Until then we are chilling in the rain with out buddies Spencer and John, who are doing exactly what we did last year and questioning every move they do or do not make as far as climbing goes. Joe and I have decided not to worry too much about what is happening every where else and just worry too much about what is happening here.
We’re finally here in Lleida after we did just as I said and rented the freakin car to drive to our buddy Chris’ house late last night. Basically when you get off the plane after about three days of travel your bags feel heavier than ever. And when a bitchy spanish lady is looking down her nose at you exclaiming she just doesn’t know the train schedule, and you see the bus has already stopped running, well you just break.
I didn’t help that the night before we had a layover in London where we visited the fam. It seemed to be a restful decision, as we were under the illusion we would be able to knock out, get a nice warm meal, then get to bed early refreshed for another day of travel to Spain. Of course once you factor my cousin Kate into the equaiton this kind of night just doesn’t exist.
So instead we crashed for two hours in Hemel at my nannies place, where Joe got to meet my infamous Nanny Mac. When that didn’t do him in we hit the train to London to meet up with my already smashed cussy and began the real “fun” of our evening. Needless to say exsessive alcohol is probably the next best thing to sleep when you’re deprived of shut eye, and Joe and I showed those boozin brits we knew how to party too.
Unfortunately we were paying for it far worse than they were in the morning. I suppose we weren’t actually flying the plane just sitting in it, so it worked out well.
Today was our first day of climbing. We headed to Margalef since we’ve been hearing Rodellar, the area we’re super psyched on, may still be wet. It’s a completely amazing area that’s conglomerate but climbs nicer than Maple. I was being a wimp and feel off the tippy top of a 12d second go. Luckily i had jet lag among other things to blame on it. Hopefully tomorrow my head will feel better, though I have a feeling my skin won’t.
