Friday, May 27, 2011

Poetry minute

By the master, Mr. Prévert

Le chat et l'oiseau


un village écoute désolé
le chant d'un oiseau blessé
c'est le seul oiseau du village
et c'est le seul chat du village
qui l'a à moitié dévoré
et l'oiseau cesse de chanter
le chat cesse de ronronner
et de se lécher le museau
et le village fait à l'oiseau
de merveilleuses funérailles
et le chat qui est invité
marche derrière le petit cercueil de paille
où l'oiseau mort est allongé
porté par une petite fille
qui n'arrête pas de pleurer
si j'avais su que cela te fasse tant de peine
lui dit le chat
je l'aurais mangé tout entier
et puis je t'aurais raconté
que je l'avais vu s'envoler
s'envoler jusqu'au bout du monde
là-bas où c'est tellement loin
que jamais on n'en revient
tu aurais eu moins de chagrin
simplement de la tristesse et des regrets
il ne faut jamais faire les choses à moitié

Sunday, May 22, 2011

The fall

Picture by Jaume Clua


So many reflections lately.  But as Weick says clearly in his Sense-making book: "People discover what they think by looking at what they say, how they feel, and where they walked.  The talk makes sense of walking, which means those best able to walk the talk are the ones who actually talk the walking they find themselves doing most often, with most intensity, and with most satisfaction.  How can I know what I value until I see where I walk?"  I do the talk through writing, the walk through climbing, hoping that both substitute quite well.  And if not, oh well, I will remain my only faithful reader, with the added benefit of first-hand understanding.


The fall is a big part of climbing, maybe also of life.  A strong symbol, not only physical, it is also part of such English expressions as "fall from grace", "fall in love", "fall flat on your face", or "fall on deaf ears".  It is also a mythological word, deeply part of Christian, Jewish, but also Muslim and Hindu stories, told and retold to generations of bewildered, open-mouthed children or much more bored and indifferent adults.  In climbing at least, one prepares for it, one faces it, one screams, one bites one's lip, one falls.  The fall can be short, abrupt, and surprising, - like falling in love.  It can be long, painful, even infinite, - like falling from grace.

Falling is a pretty intriguing concept, action-based but oh so mental as well.  When i started climbing, i was unconscious enough for the fall not to matter much.  It was not a possibility deeply considered or analyzed, it was just a consequence, a price to pay for a mistake, something i knew was objectively there, but not close enough to evaluate, to experiment with, to make up my mind about.  Climbing long routes, high up in the mountains, the fall became a far-away reality, a myth, a symbol of something climbers do, but not something i assumed or struggled with personally.  It took some time, but falling came to me, and stayed with a vengeance, waging a total war against my established climbing personality, my self-esteem, my most dearest, - the desire to climb and surpass myself.

I remember clearly my first serious fall - leading the hardest pitch on Whitney-Gilman route on Cannon mountain in New Hampshire, after having done it already at least twice (once in February during a memorable winter ascent with my Russian friends), I clipped the piton, and started traversing.  I got pumped.  I tried to go back to the piton, tried to go directly up.  My arms started to give up.  My partner was too far to hear me.  At some point i just could not hold on anymore and let go.  I have no memory of the fall itself, only of the soft landing on top of my backpack, the surprise at being whole and not aching much anywhere, of the piton still sticking up there its ugly head and holding all my weight, proudly showing off its strength despite the years of corrosion and withstanding all possible weather affronts.  I did not get overly scared - but I haven't done many falls on gear since either.

I remember my other fall, THE FALL, in Callanques, same partner, different route.  Bolted all the way, how much better could it be?  I was too confident, I was that young bold alpinist from the joke, I urgently needed a lesson.  After an epic on the Eiger, an epic in Cham, the third w/end was to be in Callanques, it was time for me to really learn my lesson - not even in my beloved high mountains, but on warm white limestone that first lulled me back to confidence, just to strike better at the right target.  Strong as i felt, i did not manage to clip the bolt from the ledge.  I went for the move anyway, without clipping.  I failed, i fell.  Only a couple of meters, but a nasty, side-ways, painful affair, slashing my foot open and disabling me for the season.  Again, i do not remember the fall, only the strange amazement from looking at my bleeding foot slowly growing in size to a small pumpkin, the adrenaline going down, and the pain kicking in.  The long way up the remaining pitches with one foot and Alex pulling me up the rope, already in the dark, the light of the headlamp so far away, the painful last meters of the supposedly gorgeous ultimate 6a pitch, sitting and waiting for the rescue on top of Devenson in the cigales-filled night.

I thought this one did not matter either - but when i went back on the rock afterward, my brain switched.  It switched automatically and for real.  The switch was on for self-preservation.  The brain does not forget, that switch was genetically programmed and sealed for the years to come.  There was no more risk-taking.  Any fall with any kind of unhappy potential made me give up.  I gave up on 6bs, on 6cs, on 6as, I followed.  I cried.  I raged.  I dreamed of leading and could only go second.  I went higher, on harder routes, but I went second.  I subconsciously blamed my climbing partners, blamed Alex, blamed the world, those were some unhappy years of my climbing.  The reconstruction took some time.  It took a rather long time indeed.  Two years following, a year leading easy multipitch, another year of projecting with slings as long as one could tie together short of toproping.

Now I can almost face the fall - I still use many slings, but i can face the fall, i can count to three, close my eyes, do a stupid Sharma-cry, and let go.  Whatever happens - take it, assume it, believe in your partner, in the rope, the gri-gri.  And fall.  That is an integral part of sport climbing.  Falling is possible, falling can be accepted, never completely controlled.  Time, and a lot of effort.  Maybe, one day, my dream would be to do one of my projects without the slings, opening myself to the fall, taking the risk, enjoying only the move, the freedom, the air below, accepting the possibility of a fall, and moving on with it.  Maybe that is a good next step.  Maybe not.

I do not have recipes, but with a lot of effort, practice, and pushing your body, one can find the gift, the freedom, the courage to look the fall into its scary eyes and let go.  Some people will be able to do it much easier, some will go solo, and not care about gravity or anything else at all.  Most humans will be scared - scared as we are in so many moments of life, scared of failing, scared of climbing pumped, climbing at the limit, scared of giving it all, all the best there is in us, all the best we can give.  The good thing about adrenaline though is that while on the project, when knowing all the moves, the fear is transformed, it changes its colors, it switches its crazy face to a tone of white, not grey anymore.  It is about putting one foot in front of the other, of fighting the pump, of doing the mechanics of the moves - it is not only about the fall anymore.  Coming full circle, the fall becomes secondary, just a consequence of messing up, but not an ultimate punishment, not the scarecrow it used to be, not the unknown grey shadow, but a normal possibility that is accepted, faced, and assumed. 

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Klaas making Geyık bayıri rock

Latest awesome video by Klaas about the season in Turkey. You have it all, girls, a Western, a highline, snowboarding, hamam, a Sportiva commercial, drilling, and even a cause. Check it out...!


Raki on the rocks - Climbing in Turkey from klaas willems on Vimeo.

Go Klaas, you're the best, go Ruben (boys are growing up)!!! I wonder how Ruth is doing...

Monday, May 16, 2011

The climbing life

Climbing life is a choice - not an easy choice, but a clear choice it is. Some might call it an irresponsible life, a selfish life, a wasted life. All of that might be true. But it is also a life, and as life goes, it has its own ups and downs, its evolution and learning, maturing, illnesses, fears, depressions, sorrows, and joys. You talk about it, you do it, you plan it, you regret it, you assume it. Like any life, better or worse - I am none to judge. I think a life dedicated to something is already a more interesting life than just passing the hours, working, partying, sleeping, eating, and defecating.

I have tried to live my life setting goals, striving for something, at least giving myself the illusion of moving in a direction. Although less clear in my professional life, it has always been like that with my climbing. Longer routes, harder grades, more engagement, more exposure. When I first started climbing, leading what seemed to me then the "free" climbing life, passing months in Yosemite, in Squamish, going on expeditions to big mountains, appeared like a good goal, like something very hard but achievable. When looking at photos of treks in Nepas, when listening to stories every good old mountaineer is so good at telling the youngsters, I not only listened - i believed, i ruminated. It took me some years, some effort, a lot of convincing and family compromises, but I took the step towards my dream, I spent my time in Squamish, in Yosemite, in Cordiliera Blanca. I looked death into the eyes. Those eyes were not scary, they were cold and indifferent. That place was uncomfortable, humid, and inhumanly sad.  There was nothing beyond, it just all ended, even without a scream.  I did not like the image i saw in that mirror. I did not want to be that person - I was not fit enough, i was not strong enough, i was not ready to give it all up. I wanted down, I wanted to live, I had so much more to see and to do, I had enough energy to step by step go up, set up the tent another time, rub the feet against each other, spend 2 hours warming up the hands, suck on the snow, cooperate, and go down. I could move forever, for hours, i was going to survive.

Since, my climbing life changed. It took me a long time to realize the impact, the weight of the experience, the pain of the encounter, the fear of this lonely encounter I did not want to make again soon. Pressured to stop climbing by family, I decided against it, i took it easy, i moved again on the rock, in the sun, in warm rock shoes over easy vertical terrain. I took up the lead rope, i decided i wanted to climb, point. I did not want to be a super-hero, i did not want to be that mountain woman that died young, i did not even care about long routes anymore, i could live without snow-covered bell-shaped peaks that helped one look god into the eye.  But not without a goal. I learned all i needed could be had in just 20 or 30 meters of a vertical playground. The same challenge, the same need for metal will, for grinding teeth, for faith, planning, and determination.

Setting goals is an interesting challenge and it uses up our consciousness to the fullest, the capacity of the brain to focus, to understand, and to coordinate the body for the purpose at hand. In climbing this is enhanced because you set goals about your own body, your mental power, you control (or not) your fear, and you build your strength, step by step. Only you can do it, only you might fail.

After a year and a half of hard training I am consuming the fruits, floating up the old projects, figuring out the moves on the new ones. Climbing is a tough maiden - she requires months of dedication, years of prayer and offerings, and decades of practice. She gives little in return: a vague smile here, a sparkle of an eye there. She spirits away the imprudent soul, the inattentive by-stander; the fleeting relationships, the weak do not withstand her continuous test. Always mysterious, always on the verge of escaping, of letting go your confidence, of betraying your faith.

But then there is the whole process of learning - and i think this is something that surprised me and made me so addicted to sport climbing. Starting a project with hardly being able to move bolt to bolt, looking at the life-line, the rope, and wondering how ever will i be able to lead this - to not only doing all the moves free, but to also getting to the top unaided, floating into the sky unstopped by gravity, by the heavy body, by the obtuse mind. And then, with time, with study, with careful examination, with a lot of self-persuasion, some daring and confidence, moving up, progressing, from doggying the route to starting to make progress, to climbing with a couple of falls, to redpointing.

The process is always the same, the routes are different. Moves change, names differ, weather becomes capricious, belayers come and go. But the rock stays - the pleasure of moving up, of not fearing the draws, of weightlessly moving up and away, the total concentration of being here and now, of living the present moment. Of having invested time, committed oneself to this, and the body responding, doing incredible things one thought impossible, one believed made for gods, not mortals. The magic continues, the magic persists. Maybe it is a stupid magic, a surreal magic that will evaporate one day with the mist of Montserrat, that will leave me be, leave me empty and exhausted, unfulfilled and remorseful, that - one day, staring death into the eyes again.  Or maybe I will continue enjoying every day, every moment of the movement, staying young in spirit if not body, motivated as ever, the head above water.


People come, people go, they hurt you, they are unreliable, they are selfish, they are boring, they are cowards and liars. The rock stays. People come, people go, they surprise you, they teach you, they inspire you. The rock does not change, does not speak, but it does not betray you either.  It shows you who you are immediately, it makes you tell the truth quickly and honestly, sticks your nose into the mud of your reality, but also makes your day happy and worthwhile.  Let the people go, let them choose other lives, let them give up climbing, cheat on the mistress or the wife, leave the goddess in tears, let them give up their dreams and ambitions. Let them believe in prophets, duties, and other mirages. Me - I will go for a climb, I will go search for the mirror to look myself again into the eyes and see my worth, see my courage, see my fear, keeping balance on the edge of the void.

Friday, May 06, 2011

For Maluta

 We all wish you a lot of courage, Maluta...


Have no fear
For when I'm alone
I'll be better off than I was before

I've got this light
I'll be around to grow
Who I was before
I cannot recall

Long nights allow me to feel...
I'm falling...I am falling
The lights go out
Let me feel
I'm falling
I am falling safely to the ground
Ah...

I'll take this soul that's inside me now
Like a brand new friend
I'll forever know

I've got this light
And the will to show
I will always be better than before

Long nights allow me to feel...
I'm falling...I am falling
The lights go out
Let me feel
I'm falling
I am falling safely to the ground

Friday, April 22, 2011

Another new guidebook


After the fabulously picturesque Lleida Climbs, the new Siurana, San Benet, and Rodellar guidebooks last year, 2011 seems to start as another promising year for Catalunya guidebooks - this time it is Joan Miquel Dalmau, the owner of Balco de la Luna shop in my home town of Monistrol de Montserrat, that has finished this superb 450-page guide, complete with photos and a very good map of the Agulles.  Even if you are used to navigating this complicated terrain, the guidebook is a gem to add to one's collection.  Moreover, it also includes the latest updated version of the sport climbing at Vermell de Xincarro and Desdentegada - so far no errors noticed during a quick inspection - Vianant remains at 7c+, Busca Brega at 7b+, Ultravox at 7c, Canela and Vox Populi lack their names, but proudly stand at 7b.  The Vermell part also includes (all?) the latest new routes opened by Piju n co' this winter-spring, such as Kurt Albert.  To be enjoyed and climbed without moderation!

It is also rumored that the latest Luichi guidebook, the new version of Cavallers happiness, is to be found in the shops very soon....!!! Let's see if the projects and routes climbed will keep their grades intact there - now that Smith Rock is downgraded to 7c+ in Lleida guidebook, I need some comforting or simply more training, protein, and campus-pills...

Thursday, April 21, 2011

Cavallers my love

 Opening the season, cold and wet





Philip  and myself on The project...
Jaume the photographer getting fit

Sunday, April 17, 2011

Miro, painter poet

"For me, a picture should be like sparks. It must dazzle like the beauty of a woman or a poem. It must have radiance; it must be like those stones which Pyrenean shepherds use to light their pipes." Miró

Moon Bird at Smithsonian Hirshhorn Museum, Washington DC

Visiting another exhibition on Miró, I am always enchanted to find his works more surprising, less simple than it might seem at the first sight, always more inspiring, but also more fleeting.  Miró, with his farmer or factory-worker face, looks almost as surreal as Magritte on the old black-and-white pictures.  Is he making fun of us, his audience, painting and talking about these images that find meaning as he paints them, that find their names when he is done throwing paint on the canvass, concentrated, hard-working, all day long?  Or does he know more than us, does he have a different sight, does he talk with Plato's shadows of the ideal?  It is always the woman and the bird that come back in his paintings - not ants like in Dali's nightmares, but constant inspirations for Miro's more poetic and mystic work.  Even during the dark years of WWII he paints women - in black this time. 

One of the discoveries for me during this exhibition in Brussels (where ING is copying Fundacion Caixa in Barcelona with a dedicated space for art in the city center) was a book Miro illustrated for Paul Eluard's poetry.  The illustrations reminded me of Shagal's more spiritual work for the Bible, where here Miro remained Miro - light, easy, un-understandable, full of himself - and full of meaning for the ones willing to accept him as he comes.  Sure, as he and Eluard come together.


Une prison découronnée
En plein ciel
Une fenêtre enflammée
Où la foudre montre ses seins
Une nuit toute verte
Nul ne sourit dans cette solitude
Ici le feu dort tout debout
À travers moi.


Mais ce sinistre est inutile
Je sais sourire
Tête absurbe
Dont la mort ne veut pas dessécher les désirs
Tête absolument libre
Qui gardera toujours et son regard et son sourire.


Si je vis aujourd’hui
Si je ne suis pas seul
Si quelqu’un vient à la fenêtre
Et si je suis cette fenêtre
Si quelqu’un vient
Ces yeux nouveaux ne me voient pas
Ne savent pas ce que je pense
Refusent d’être mes complices


Et pour aimer séparent.
(P. Eluard)

The last impression from the exhibition - this other quote from the artist: "Pour moi, conquérir ma liberté, c'est conquérir la simplicité. À la limite, une ligne, une couleur suffisent à faire le tableau". This made me think more of my thesis - I would wish so much for it to be simple, for me to finally see the light and make it simple, conquer liberty through simplicity...

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Inspiration

I don't usually post videos, but this one left me drooling, over and over again.  Death to gravity, everything is possible.  Maybe one day, in the next 10 years?  Or maybe not, I will go dream my dream anyway!  Quizas, live and see...


KALÉA BORROKA 8B+ SIURANA Alizée Dufraisse from phil on Vimeo.

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Strange times

Strange times between projects, looking for motivation, for color, finding reasons to suffer more, working, sleeping, not much more going on - so much more going on.  Moving on, from the South face to the North face, or going in circles.  Pushing people away, trying to keep them in, life goes on, in its own inexplicable way.  Dreams of granite keep me awake at night, nightmares put me to sleep.  Let the strange times roll...



Saturday, April 02, 2011

Melancolia

Hermano, tu que tienes la luz, dime la mía.
Soy como un ciego. Voy sin rumbo y ando a tientas.
Voy bajo tempestades y tormentas,
ciego de ensueño y loco de armonía.
Ese es mi mal. Soñar. La poesía
es la camisa férrea de mil puntas cruentas
que llevo sobre el alma. Las espinas sangrientas
dejan caer las gotas de mi melancolía.
Y así voy, ciego y loco, por este mundo amargo;
a veces me parece que el camino es muy largo,
y a veces que es muy corto...
Y en este titubeo de aliento y agonía,
cargo lleno de penas lo que apenas soporto.
¿ No oyes caer las gotas de mi melancolía ?

Ruben Dario, a leer escuchando Game Over, by Marcel Cranc

Tuesday, March 29, 2011

...Ben Petat!!!

"Encadenar una vía no es encadenar una vía...
Es una promesa hecha a ti misma,
es desayunar ilusión y cenar esperanza,
es el recuerdo de tu futuro..." - Eva Lopez



Thanks to all who have participated in my endless walks up and down to Senglar during the last three months, belayed, cheered, found a word of encouragement, or a friendly tap on the shoulder that kept me going.  Oriol, Mark, Ville, Philip, Bernat, Ernest, Pau, Marieta, JuanAn, Carlos, Juanjo, Ruget, Esther - to all of you and others I forget - thank you.

 Picture by Ville

Sunday, March 27, 2011

Santa Anna - els Exploradors

 One of the main walls in Sta Anna, sector Exploradors on the far right.

After Santa Linya - another Santa, Santa Anna this time.  A new sector is always very interesting to visit, especially in good company. Although already rather hot, Santa Anna proved to be a good choice - a couple of warm-ups on the left, (especially Classic Climbing, 6b+ and el Rei del tonga, 6c+), very good 7as (especially Laia, Scotty, and a bit harder Trinity), and incredible 7c+/8a Esfinx, with a crux move of one-finger undercling to big jug.  7bs were strange though - both Livingstone and Fills de Buda resisted the efforts of many, and made some unhappy on our team.  Updated topo here and in Lleida guidebook.

Ville and Victor discussing the 7c, Magnifica in welcome shade...

Overall, a great week-end where all four of us redpointed the first pitch of Esfinx (flash for Marc, first 7c for Ville), and Ville and Victor finished the w-end also sending the Magnifica, another 7c that looked pretty good through the camera lens...:

Ville sending his second 7c of the week-end and of his life, Magnifica, way to go!!

Mark enjoying the evening sun on the same, Magnifica, 7c

Overall, a good relaxation for my body and mind before attacking again the project of this year, that has to be spelled in capital letters from now on, if ever to be done.  But whatever it takes - I am not giving up, i wish i were stronger - i wish i were different, but let's just keep at this one...

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Santa Linya

A little strange, surreal w/end full of rain, caves, mud, flowers, and spring sun.  Despite torrential rains, we were able to find a safe harbor on Saturday inside the Santa Linya cave - an impressive formation reminding one of Grande Grota in Kalymnos or Surgencias sector in Rodellar. 

Mark belaying infatiguable Ville on his (9th?) try of the day

The climbing itself is very powerful, bouldery, and basically hard.  Not my style at all, and bearing all the training in mind, I kept happily to the camera and took pictures rather than trash myself on the routes.  This place is definitely for another generation, but worth at least one visit for curiosity's sake.

The incredible cave of Santa Linya 

Second day finally brought the sunshine back to the thirsty, and we enjoyed it fully at Futbolin, more likeable sector with humane routes, orange coloring, and much less steepness.  Mark impressed us all almost flashing Opium, 7c, and I followed by redpointing, feeling strong and weightless on the slab despite days of intense training. 

 Myself on crux of Opium, picture by Philip

Thanks to Albert Cortes for equipping the route we all enjoyed, and many more in the area :)

The boys having fun on nearby 7a

Friday, March 11, 2011

Let my people go surfing

"With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world." - Desiderata, by Max Ehermann

I have been preparing to teach a case on Patagonia company recently,  for once intersecting my professional and climbing life.  Yvon Chouinard has founded Patagonia in the 60ies, as a result of his experimentation with climbing equipment and blacksmithry.  From company history website: 

"Chouinard, after meeting John Salathé, a Swiss climber and Swedenborgian mystic who had once made hard-iron pitons out of Model A axles, decided to make his own reusable hardware. In 1957, he went to a junkyard and bought a used coal-fired forge, a 138-pound anvil, some tongs and hammers, and started teaching himself how to blacksmith. Chouinard made his first pitons from an old harvester blade and tried them out with T.M. Herbert on early ascents of the Lost Arrow Chimney and the North Face of Sentinel Rock in Yosemite. The word spread and soon friends had to have Chouinard's chrome-molybdenum steel pitons. Before he knew it he was in business. He could forge two of his in an hour, and sold them for $1.50 each.
...
By 1970, Chouinard Equipment had become the largest supplier of climbing hardware in the U.S. It had also become an environmental villain because its gear was damaging the rock. Climbing had become more popular, but remained concentrated on the same well-tried routes in areas like El Dorado Canyon, the Shawangunks, and Yosemite Valley. The same fragile cracks had to endure repeated hammering of pitons, during both placement and removal and the disfiguring was severe. After an ascent of the degraded Nose route on El Capitan, which had been pristine a few summers earlier, Chouinard and Frost decided to phase out of the piton business. This was to be the first big environmental step we would take over the years. It was a huge business risk – pitons were then still the mainstay of the business – but it had to be done.  "


"I've been a businessman for almost fifty years.  It's as difficult for me to say those words as it is for someone to admit being an alcoholic or a lawyer.  I've never respected the profession.  It's business that hast to take the majority of the blame for being the enemy of nature, for destroying native cultures, for taking from the ppor and giving to the rich, and for poisoning the Earth with the effluent from its factories.  Yet business can also produce food, cure diseases, control population, employ people, and generally enrich our lives.  And it can do those things and make a profit without losing its soul." Yvon on business...

What if business was also about ... letting the people go surfing?  Maybe productivity achieved would be lower, maybe more people would be able to find their passion in life - in surfing or otherwise.  Or maybe this is all a utopia, and Patagonia is happily screwing its customers by making them pay important premiums on Patagonia products to cover Chouinard and his team's "surfing" times and environmental dreams...?


Sunday, March 06, 2011

Early spring

Early spring in Finland....

Early Spring 2011 in Finland from Anssi Laatikainen on Vimeo.
(thanks to Ville for sharing)

....


Early spring in Catalunya...

(no comment needed)

Philip working on Trenquem el Bloqueig, 8b

Myself on the unending project, Ben Petat 7c+/8a, picture by Ville

Saturday, March 05, 2011

Berbere in France, or rock’n’roll du bled

True or not, the rhetoric has it that North Africa is rising above the water lately, is there hope amidst of centuries of humiliation? As for me, I have been impressed by Hindi Zahra's music lately - reminding of Jewel, Lhasa, of Norah Jones, - but with a spark of her own.  Awesome, sensitive, simple.  I like...!!






Friday, February 25, 2011

Good feelings

 Redpointing Vox Populi, 7b, Vermell, photo by Martin

Montserrat in spring is amazing.  Maybe I am too emotional and naively romantic, but it is incredible - these last days I have been coming back often and each time enjoying it more, in detail, in bloom.  Seeing the tail of a goat this day, breathing in the Mediterranean smell of plants the other, touching the smooth rock and following the flight of a huge and hairy bumble bee the third.  It is my type of climbing, it is my type of place.  No, I don't feel like going to other places, why bother with crowded and over-trashed Margalef, popular and too-orange-for-its-own-good Siurana, or the tufa-enchanted Montgrony - when Montserrat has it all, 15 minutes drive away.  I do not want to escape anymore, I want to stay.  I have done my part of escaping the last twelve years of my life - and somehow the spirit has left me, the move is no more.  I do not need to go far to be free anymore.  I want to stay and come back, live into the habit, enjoy the feeling of touching the same rock again and again, of walking the same rocky road, uphill first, and then downhill.  Of seeing the seasons change, and trees wake up from a sleep in bloom, and olives getting fat and plumply in Catalan sun.

Walking towards Vermell, picture by Martin

Then there are the people - and climbing is so much about the people as it is about the nature.  Montserrat is a royal place, a wonderful island in the sea of our civilization, an igloo in the middle of polar circle.  But it still would be nothing without people.  Climbing is a fulfilling sport in this sense - it is so incredibly good to share it with outstanding surroundings, but especially with others that enjoy it, that are obsessed with it, whom you can stop in the middle of a walk up or downhill, and tell them "oh, look, how gorgeous", "how incredibly beautiful is the view", "what a scenery".  Or simply smile and receive a smile in return, filled with the atmosphere, with the fresh air, flowers more abundant with each visit.  The pink of almonds below, the blues of rosemary higher up, and other small beauties I don't even know how to name that pop out here and there, just when you think you've seen it all.  It is fulfilling, it is like a prayer to me - a day out, in the sun, feeling every cell of my body vibrate to the music, to the tune of the place.

Redpointing Vox Populi, 7b, Vermell, photo by Martin
And then there is my project - feeling my body adapt to the rock, take its shape, my fingers identifying with the crimps, my tendons becoming one with the holes, my fear ebbing away.  It is again and again such a surprise, such an incredible surprise to see oneself progress on a route that seemed unbelievably difficult just a couple of weeks, even days before.  Doing another move, flying off despite the instinct to hold on, listening to myself making little Sharma-cries, pushing on.  From having only 1 good try a day to having 2 good tries, from suffering like crazy and having 50% chance of getting the start right to figuring it out, to breathing through the moves.  From not being able to relax, to getting to the first rest in a respectable shape. To rest 2 minutes at the tufa, to rest another minute 4 moves above, to rest 1 minute before the move.  To doing 1 move more.  To doing 3 moves more.  Only 2 moves more to go - and I might be able to clip the next draw.  And then - the rock is my limit.  The route is the masterpiece.

And it is same old Senglar again, again and again.  I feel like home - like I have been climbing here forever and will climb more.  There to the left is Ernest and Carlos trying Trenquem el Bloqueig, Pedro joining the bottom of Viatgi, the top and traverse to the right of Discordia and the ultra-hard exit to the right of Viatgi (8a+?), there is to the right Manolo and JuanAn working on Sprint Final, there is Ester, Fredrik, myself trying Ben Petat,  and all the others, Bernat, Marieta, Oriol redpointing the route and showing me how it is done.  There is Martin on Vox, Ville trying out Rush, there is Philip flying up my project.  And there are those that came before, and that will come after.

A move before falling off Sincronisity, 7a at the Totxos, picture by Victor

And then there are other places in Montserrat, so many remaining, and calling to be explored.  Such names as Xulum, Spok, or Unicorni keep me dreaming just a little more, just a little further into the wild.  To see how much one can train one's body, how much one can train one's mind.  How much is possible - and what is the limit. This year I managed to climb my 6b project at Sant Benet - maybe one day I will do a harder route - but oh, how good the climbing is there.

Why travel? Maybe I have arrived...maybe I just travel light lately...