Pico Uriellu

So, Becoming bored of France and desiring more mountain in my life, we decided to pop on the highway and drove on. Spain just exploded into coastal mountains, sweeping highways bringing us in and out of coves and bays and ultimately beer that seems to taste better.  Aiming vaguely for a national park called Picos De Europa we found it had a peak treasured by Spanish Mountaineers, Pico Uriellu or Naranjo de Bulnes (Orange of Bulnes).

Its sounds uninteresting but let me tell you more- The peak is 8,264ft from sea level, which is close by. To get to the peak you need to carry your climbing gear up through the 6,500ft of Spanish summer which lands you at the base of something special. It isn’t the biggest peak in the area, but with a 1739ft headwall it’s a head turner. There are no footpaths up this one.

Pico Uriellu on the hike out

I should say at the beach below we met a nice guy called Henning who was passionate about getting out climbing and wanted to join us, and naturally, having some spare camping gear, we were more than happy to oblige. We started the hike in the middle of the afternoon because we like to suffer and it seemed a good idea. 1000ft below basecamp Karli threw up all the food and water she had eaten on the way in and the paced slowed. It can’t have been pleasant but seeing the end was near, she carried on. Arriving in the evening outside the mountain hut we loosely pitched the tent and settled down to a terrible dinner of packet pasta and nuts. It’s up there among the least appealing meals, bland, bad tasting, the kind of food you might not feed your dog but for some reason choose to eat on your holiday. Sitting below the intimidating face was pretty cool as it turned red in the setting sun. We had reservations about coming to climb it on a weekend and the queues that might form due to its popularity, but all would be well.

The secret and ease to the climb for us was, if we went around the back and scrambled 500ft up to the South Face, it would be much shorter. Our route was called Directa de los Martinez, Named after the man who climbed the peak Solo in 1904 and consisting of 490ft of easy climbing peaking at 5.7 on the Yosemite Decimal system (US climbing grade), followed by 400ft of exposed steep scrambling to the summit. There were a couple of climbers on route already which was nice as we had no guide book, just a phone picture of a page taken in a coffee shop way down below. It’s my first time climbing trad on limestone, hence the picking of an easy route, and it didn’t disappoint. Short but so much fun. The sun came around half way up and reaching the last bolted anchor , we put the ropes in the bag and scrambled up to the top; hitting the ridge at lunchtime, the ground dropped vertically 1000ft from where we had just come, and straight down 1700 the other way. With other climbing teams on the peak, the descent using the rappel stations was slow but allowed us to take in the views a little more. Arriving back down to our packs dehydrated after not really drinking any water and with it being 2pm and again hot, we began the slow descent down to the car on a long winding path.

I have to admit something, after spending time in the states and central, I have started liking the America climbing grading better than the UK grading system. It just seems easier, less wording, almost digital compared to analogue. We are now doing some sports climbing in Valles Del Trubia. Thats all for now

🙂

 

Delicious donuts, a change of plan (again), 3 Hexes, 2 wires and a Prusik Loop

I was going to write a blog about the importance of knowing how to prusik but after writing it and reading  over i decided it was dull and instead, to write about donuts. (The prussic thing is at the bottom)

DELICIOUS SUGAR COATED DONUTS. They have been missing from my life. Through Mexico and Central America they have been weighed, measured and found wanting. Some shops sell dry ones that have sat for days. Some look like donuts, but are poor sponge cake imposters; dryer than the previous and coated with a bland coconut covering.

I was feeling peckish one Suesca day and decided to see myself to the bakery. While buying bread for the day, I noticed out the corner of my eye a real treat. A tray full on ring donuts with a good sugar coat. I was psyched. I purchased a couple.  On returning to the hostel I made coffee, sat down and began to chow down.  The extra delight hit when i realised despite the missing hole they had still filled them with a delicous caramel apple sauce. Enough on donuts.

Now, the past couple of weeks we had planned on selling Karli’s car and continuing on bicycle down through the south. This plan was going great until the buyer backed out a couple of days before he arranged to buy it.  Which is fair enough, and we have quickly and cayoticaly re-planned. The car will now be shipped back to mexico, where we will meet it on the 8th of february after flying via Miami, then drive it back to Colorado, weaving to destinations as we go. From denver, we will work on selling the car, getting a resupply of extra equipment, go ice climbing till the end of winter (and maybe ski) and then fly back to colombia to cycle the continent.  Hopefully climbing peaks along the way. BOOM!!

The thing I decided not to write

Climbing a rock is one thing, knowing how to climb safely  is a completely different thing.  At the start of this trip with Karli, the very first days climbing, I started teaching her basic climbing knots and some more advanced knots. The majority of which you would or wouldn’t need in a standard days climbing, but some would eventually become useful when you lack or lose gear on routes.

Among these were knots such as bunny ears, munter hitch, clove hitch and the humble prusik knot, or rather three variations of it. At the time Karli questioned what the use of most of these were and why we practiced using them. Until a couple of days ago.

We had a few days of sport climbing, then we went back out doing a repeat climb of L.P. , one of the routes in Suesca. The last time we climbed it we had a blast and it was smooth.

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1st pitch

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2nd pitch

This time every single piece of protection placed straight away and tugged into position nicely. For me this was great and i had a blast climbing smooth, for Karli it turned into a nightmare of hanging on a rope thumping at wires, every single placement stuck fast. So it continued at a belay made up of hexes,me having super easy placements, and Karli probably wishing I was dead . After two pitches I decided to place runners more sparsely to lessen the pain. I led the next pitch, and on pulling the rope for karli to come up behind me it snagged. With no line of sight and the sound of rapids below we couldn’t hear each other. Between me on belay and Karli was around 40 meters of tight rope and 10 meters of slack at Karli’s end. After waiting for about 20 minutes I was contemplating tying off the rope and rappelling down to see if karli was OK when the rope came loose again.

Very resourcefully karli realised I was on belay and the rope was pinched in a crack just out of sight.  She tied on a prusik loop to the rope and began taking in the slack as she moved towards the edge of the springboard under the roof (overhanging rock), eventually tying a new figure 8 mid way on the rope just below the prussic and coiling the spare rope. As she climbed to the edge of the roof the rope came slack and things resumed as normal. A potentially dangerous situation turned into a non-issue with the use of a prussic.  Time spent practicing was well spent. This is the first time in 14 years I have been on a rope that managed to get caught in such a manor.

 

 

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Karli practicing her prussics a couple of months ago.

To close, a pic of what happens to Karli when she lies in a hammock and there is 60meters of rope hanging about. Enjoy!

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A Place Full Of Unnoticeable Masters

“Behind the rock in the Dark probably hides a tiger, and the coiling giant root resembles a crouching dragon”. – An old Chinese Idiom, referring to a place full of unnoticeable masters. I feel this is fitting to Suesca as I climb up through the Spanish Moss cresting a roof.

The route still on my mind is L.P. The guy that put the route up said its a 5.7 but needs the head of a 5.9 leader. After asking locals later it’s part 5.7, parts 5.8 and a bit of 5.9. Our first attempt ended at the first loose band of rock below the roof and questioning if indeed we were on the right route. It started with a dihedral, then overcome a bulge to a crack and up onto a ledge, about 30meters. The severity of this supposed 5.6 pitch made me question what was to come. It resulted in a rap down and going to get some more Beta. The modest route had an easy weakness through if you knew where to look. After asking a friend we went back the next day.

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The second attempt, after confirming we were supposed to go through the frail loose band went better.  From the ledge you weave through the poor rock to pull a large roof, climb a second corner that becomes slightly overhanging with the odd hand jam, to another belay under a roof, about 30 meters. The cover picture is from the second belay looking at the second roof. 2nd pitch- A belly crawl along a canon and then a fine balance flip over with good exposure to climb the roof . From there it’s two long pitches of easier ground 5.6-7, dropping to 5.4 the higher you go. Good protection with  great views, the belay on top is a series of chicken heads (little forms of sandstone you can tighten slings around) strung together in a that should do it kind of manor. All in around 130meters. The thing is, most the 5.9 sport routes in the area are easier than this was. It humbles you. The stone lords keeping you in your place. But is brilliant fun, one of the best routes here.

Many talented climbers come here saying they will climb a certain grade, and certainly they climb a grade or two beyond my own ability. But come back at the end of a day with a tail between legs and shell shock from the run out protection and bolts, combined with words to the effect of ‘Im sure that 11a is actually a 12’. But out of dejection rises a strength and enjoyment in the coming days, and a respect for the guys that first climbed here.

We are back in Suesca after a week over christmas around La Mojarra, a sport climbing venue. La Mojarra was an opposite to Suesca but a welcome break. Good, safe bolts that are maintained, and mainly very overhanging. Which was cool and safe to fall on. And what’s more, after running out of 8s and 9s, all the 5.10 grade climbs attainable and feeling like the grade stated. And made me feel like pushing more to 11s.

pics- La Mojarra. friends Chris and Nicole having a play.

We have also been back to our secret valley for some bouldering. Boulders seem to have sprouted from the ground since the first visit and every corner turned is another problem. The friction on this rarely climbed rock is bril and with a cool breeze chalk barely needed. To top it off we have probably averaged seeing one other person up there over 4 days.

Life has been nice and slow of recent, getting up, waiting for clouds to dissipate around 9-10 then climbing.  Every other day resting. I decided with the amount of beer drank last year I could have been ten times the climber had I not. So this year so far the tally stands at 1. I’m keeping to that until at least this eve.

Yesterday we climbed with a Austrian friend who after an easier route, chucked up a 5.11d top rope for me to flail on, after getting back down stating he thinks its more 12. I tried, and fell, and tried , and fell, then quit. Ill be back for it.

Another more interesting post coming tomorrow. Maybe.

 

 

Psyched

Climbing over time becomes more than a sport. It becomes a personal edge of determination and certainty as you stare into the abyss of darkness knowing you will come through. (Sometimes that abyss is quite big and scary)

It becomes the cool steady head of a gun-slinger in the wild west outnumbered ten to one but knowing his hand is faster and aim flawless. I remember when i started climbing, it was just before dawn, the air freezing, crisp and sharp. Staring at a crag my friend was leading me to, wondering how i would climb that seemingly impenetrable fortress of black rock piercing the sky all around me. Did my friend not know gravity worked heavily against me? I felt scared, but i have remembered that day for the past 14 years.

As time went on, i realized if one treads lightly, slowly but surely , there is always a secret corridor nature will permit you to pass through. tens of thousands of years of glaciers, storms and weather creating small flaws of beauty that allow me to pass in the blink of an eye. Seeing it in the fragile delicate state. Knowing eventually it will all be gone, and maybe in a few years the route I climbed will be gone forever. Only lasting in memory.

Today I went out climbing, like most the past week, to Suesca, Colombia. The day started like every other, around half ten Karli and I grabbed a coffee for 30 cent from the local coffee shop. We tried to meet some friends up for a climb on a remote crag, but found only barbed wire and no trespassing signs blocking the way. After two hours of trying and seeing the day slip away we reverted back to the main crag of Suesca. A climb we picked out a few days earlier was on the agenda. Nothing too technical or trying, graded to 5.6(MVS). A three pitch route following some blackish sandstone up a chimney, up a corner, then over some open area.

a young climber top-roping to the left of our route. the redline shows our line and the first belay

It looked straight forwards and like an easy afternoon out.

Upon arriving at the base the start of the climb was occupied by a guide and group. Which left us two alternates- 20 meters of 5.7 with no protection, or 20meters of 5.8 with protection. (protection being climbing hardware placed in cracks to arrest a fall). The 5.8 sounding harder I weasled over to the 5.7 a few feet away. We geared up and I started up timidly, so far the trad routes of Suesca have been harder than graded. After 5 meters I stopped and looked at the rock, would it be the same as some of the previous routes with a vicious sting to stump me 10 meters up? I had a quick assessment – full of pockets, small cracks and features. Not that dis-similar to some nice climbs back home. I focused on the rock and forgot about the potential of a fall.

I started climbing.

Its been a while since i felt the same certainty of outcome. I was enjoying each easy move, feeling for good, positive holds or gentle pinches and precisely placing my fett like a doctor might use a scalpel. its a while since i felt at home on a climb. Aftrer linking up with the 5.6 route I made a solid belay and brought up Karli. The next pitch looked ominous. A dark cathedral like corner, vertical and seeming to overhand slightly at the top. Not an average 5.6 but the holds looked good and the conrner offered a perfect fist sized hole every step. I used a single cam which i bumped up a couple of times (due to having only one adequate sized cam) to just over half way, before deciding its security would not be required any higher and climbing straight up would be easy. At the top of the corner the route opened up to great views and a decently large belay ledge.

Karli coming up the last few meters of the first pitch

The final pitch was an entertaining mix of steps. Ledges, small slabs and small roofs from weathered stone but full of pockets. Holes, sculptures of ghouls and gargoyles and fine crisp flakes of sandstone that would snap with the most delicate touch. It was smooth climbing and the odd runner for safety. It was joy. At first I though the final pitch was only 5 meters but it went on for about 40 meters. On the top I chose a solid anchor, sat down and brought up the slack rope.

I was Stoked, I think that is the first time I have used that word. This is what climbing is about. Not the hardest routes, but the beautiful ones.

Trad Climbing in Suesca, Colombia

So. In prep for some bigger mountains, I’ve started teaching Karli how to trad. She can sport climb already, so its been quite good progress, the past week has been spent around Suesca, Colombia. Camping at around 9400ft which is a nice gentle bit of acclimatisation for Cocuy National Park. We have been running and climbing each day. By that, I mean climbing some, and thinking of running; then not.

Ive been teaching Karli how to place gear, build anchors and safely rappel. She led her first multi pitch, approx 250ft, a good solid 5.7 (American grade) with some interesting features- 35meters up an interesting clean corner, a 15meter run out on a traverse without any protection, and a nice steep 40 meter corner to climb with bomber protection. A great fun route .

 

We have been camping up the hill on the far side of the valley, in an old dissused quarry big enough to hide the car from weather with great views back the way too, nice sunsets, lightning storms and best of all its free.

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top of route after Karli’s first multi pitch route and lead.

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top of another three pitch route

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coiling rope after a good day out

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the end of the traverse before going straight up.

The weather has held up great and we have been ticking lots of simple routes. Below is a picture of Karli gasing the wildlife with arms raised, poor squirrels, didn’t know what hit em’. Lunch has been from a local restaurant costing about 3 dollars to feed and water both of us with soup, and a plate full of chicken and rice and veg and fresh juice. The roof tent has been building a nice sweaty climbing shoe aroma after a week of not washing. We are back in Bogota for a weekend off before another week or so of climbing in Suesca and running in the evenings before the ambition grows. After the restrictiveness of Central America nearly sending me crazy with cabin/car fever being confined by rain, high entrance fees and every local sticking out a hand wanting money, South America is starting to become really good fun and re-establish why we are on this trip.

 

 

Worse Places to be stuck.

This week on the road we have:

Tried to climb, tried to surf, waited for a parcel that never actually set off, tried to drive the wrong way up a mountain according to satnav, tried to climb again, stealth camped because we didn’t want to drive, eaten Mcdonalds (success).

So, the climbers mindset is not fully back yet, the level of commitment has been, well, more about burgers and junk food than elevation gained and meters climbed. But, it is important to carb load and I will not turn down junk. I am still 25lb lighter than when I started this trip.

In San Diego we stopped at my friend Axels’ apartment. We did commence training with running in the air-cooled gym and some basic circuit core work. We did discover around here the time to climb is not when the sun is high. It’s an effort even getting to a crag. Every attempt to climb above 5.10 has been thwarted by heat and poor motivation. But it’s there, I know it is coming each time we get back out. Climbing steep for the first time in a couple of years is like relearning. From when rock can be trusted to support a smeared foot to tying bunny-ear anchors (climbers knot to belay from).

We have also tried to surf. I remember when I was learning in oz and back home the pain of falling forwards into a wave, swallowing lots of water, trying to paddle out and nearly breaking my nose, unsuccessful. This was almost the same. But I am now considering getting a cheap board as it is good fun.

The fingers have been sore, I smell like the sea and I am tired from last nights camp. Last night was stealth camping. Basically in fancy areas they don’t like people pitching tents anywhere, they charge extortionate amounts to even park a car. And so we are forced onto side streets and into the back of a vehicle. It was a neat fit, but not the worst, we can both fully lie down in the back, a few inches above head to the surfboard, and a mess of camping chairs, bags and towels all around us.

I looked in mirror while Karli was driving this morning and felt 10 years older, I almost didn’t recognise the guy staring back. Bearded, worn, sunburned, bruised, painful fingers, a nearly repaired cracked rib. I remember looking at all the late 20 to young 40s surf and climbing bums back home when I was 18 and wondering if I would end up like them. I guess I have, because staring back in the side mirror this morning was a tired, battered but content person with no place to be in the world.

Finding out the parcel I had been waiting for hadn’t left the city I live in was devastating. I’ll be honest, it was not what I expected. I thought it was in Costa Mesa nearby, Instead its been waiting for a customs exemption form before it leaves home. I sat down in REI and then lay down. The rest of this week is now waiting, Mexico is evading me in every way possible. There is a nice crag nearby with camping at the bottom. I am thinking a week cut off from civilisation would be nice. It would be epic. Nothing but climbing and noodles.

 

 

Wind River High Route

Nearly 100 miles, over 30,000 feet of ascent, glacier crossings, snow slopes, one microspike, a two season sleeping bag at 12,000 feet,  and a pointless laptop on my back i forgot to send before the trip. Lets Go!!

 

Flying by the seem of my pants seems to be something i can thrive on. This trip started one morning in Salida where i didn’t quite know what to do with myself.

‘Come do the wind river high route with me’ Said Cheetah, an Ultra runner I met a couple of days previous. Having nothing more exciting to do and being quite psyched about the route i had no knowledge of i said ‘Ok!’.

A hour later I had salvaged some food from a hiker box, enough for about 3 days (just), and packed up and walked out the door. Hitching back to Kathleens’ house, a half way point on the hitch route (around a 470 mile hitch) she provided maps of the Winds, a bonus as I had no idea where the route went or what was involved.

The next morning we hitched to Lander with the plan of kitting out properly for the route. I had a list of equipment I would need- an extra fleece, extra food, microspikes as a minimum if not crampons as there would be a lot of time on snow and glaciers, and finally mail off my laptop so I don’t have to carry it. We spent the night in Lander camped on the village green. Next morning after getting no where trying to find microspikes/crampons suitable for the route, and finding no fleeces at decent prices I hitched to the trailhead frustrated, eased slightly by Cheetah sharing some fried chicken.

The first afternoon we went a few miles down the trail from bruce bridge (7,142ft), swam in the river and drank a few beers. I was carrying 3 days food, by 3 days what I actually meant was 3 x 2500kcal, enough for an average working day at home, not the 6000 a day I could have done with. Most people would probably want a weeks supply for this route.

Day 1

Wind river peak(13,192ft)- I think this was about a 6000 foot climb. It passed fast, but the descent was knarly, Steep steep talus that seemed very unstable (we moved single file), followed by the first steep snow slope. We devised a plan for one of us to go first, tying some para-cord between us to pass the microspikes after the first was down. This worked well until the 30ft of cord proved about 70ft short of what we would need. What followed was Cheetah chucking the spikes as hard as possible, and me leaning down the slope with an extended trekking pole to try to reach where they managed to wedge themselves in the compact icey snow. It worked to a fashion and a short while later we were scrambling down a talus field feeling pretty good. A long descent to Big Sandy Lake, lunch, the a climb up to ‘The Cirque’, a beautiful mountain area. We squeezed one more pass, the third of the day, (Texas Pass) giving us near 10,000 vertical feet this day. Camping next to a high lake we pitched tarps for the night and the drank whisky Cheetah carried in. I’m not going to bore you too much with the exact elevation gains and drops, but its serious up and down on this trip.

day 2

Waking cold and tired, the food situation was very clear, there wasn’t enough. From this morning rationing started. By substantially reducing calorie intake and increasing daily mileage we might just swing the route if we go partly hungry every day and even hungrier with no food the last day. We had to make around 30 miles today, on a normal hiking day this wouldn’t be bad, but this was back country travel, no paths, talus, big passes, lots of snow. Cheetah shared one of his micro spikes (like mini crampons) and we both went with one each on the snow. The approaches to passes were epic, the bluff climbs enjoyable and snow firm in the morning and slush by lunch.  The end of the day was a surprise we didn’t notice when planning the night previous, after doing a mammoth 3 passes as fast as we could, we climbed a rise to a shocking site. A big pass, the biggest yet. At 6pm high in The Winds, a 3000 vertical feet climb to 12,750ft (Blaurock Pass)was a tiring odious thought. Reaching the top at 7.15 felt great. The descent was a mix of glissading and rock hopping. Camping in view of Garnett Peak, the highest in Wyoming, I was freezing. Dinner was a most miserable chicken noodle soup, the kind you put in a cup as a 4pm snack, I pretended to myself there were plenty of calories in it. Deep down I knew this was a lie.

My skimpy bag wasn’t up to a cool summer night, never mind a alpine frost. I shivered quite a bit, but consider it a good sign my body was still moving. Whats the worst that can happen right?

Day 3

Breakfast- a premix bag of oats and a breakfast essential mixed together. Today would be my last bag of MnM’s which was also my last food. Not the worst thing ever, and a coffee. In reserve i had more instant coffee and herbal tea. We approached Garnett Peak ready to turn up to Garnett Glacier near the base. A group of climbers were descending and after hearing we were torn between an ascent of Garnett Peak or attempting to finish the high route due to lack of rations they gave us a big bag of almonds, some cliff energy bars and a couple of extras. The decision was made for us, with this stroke of luck, and still short on supplies we approached Garnett peak. After assessing the route, I decided it was too dangerous to take on the steep snow gully with snow bridge over crevasse with only one microspike, (also a monsterous death drop if a slide was not arrested) so passed it to Cheetah and he went for a summit attempt. I was gutted not to be making the climb but knew it was the right call (a lot of people climb this with ice axe, crampons and roped together). I did climb around half way up as far as the rocks would allow. When Cheetah arrived back at our min camp we changed direction back to the glacier route. The glacier itself was uneventful apart from the rumble of thunder keeping us moving. When your that high there isn’t really any point in trying to run downhill.  The ascent out the other side of the glacier for those interested I would suggest warrants sturdier footware and crampons, even an axe if you can be bothered to carry one, but with one microspike on and clutching my hiking poles tight looking a little like a praying mantis I staggered up the slope above the crevasses (they were small here). A quick glissade down and one more climb out the next valley. We pushed hard over more open ground, more rock hopping, plenty of extra up and down, across a safer beautiful glacier and onto the most northern mountain of the route ‘Downs Mountain'(13,350). I’ll be honest and say I despised this mountain. I felt like Alice in wonderland on mushrooms. Giant boulders continually thwarting forward movement as my dehydrated body struggled up, continually trying to decide if I could step up, or jump across gaps, I was drained. We descended a short way down to the final camp. Cheetah cooked up the last noodle pack, added some almonds and split it with me. Man it was good to eat. This night was like the previous nights but more so, more vibrant shivering all night and frozen shoes and socks in the morning. My footwear and feet for that matter didn’t get to dry out at any point during these few days.

There are so many awesome pics and so much I could say but I’m burned. I’ll rewrite this later. Theres also going to be an awesome vid of this trip soon enough in 4k highlighting my terror and joy onroute. Here I lie battered and bruised but content in dubois. Where should I head next?