April 2007 - Climbing - Fontainebleau (Font)

This story is set in Font, but it’s not about Font. It could be set anywhere. It’s more a story about personal enlightenment, read on if that tweaks your interest.

Last Easter I joined the annual Brit pilgrimage to Font, and was the only person I knew that came back having not enjoyed it. I didn’t like the sand getting into my shoes and abrading away at my skin. I didn’t like the fact that the majority of the problems on the first two days were so short it was like a continuous stream of mantel top outs (yellow circuits at Châteauvieux and Diplodocus) and the following two days went the other way becoming high ball (orange circuits at 91.1 and Cul de Chien). I didn’t like the fact that even if I managed to get up a problem, I was then stuck on a boulder while my company ran off to try the next one. I didn’t like the fact that it rained on two of the five days. And to top it all off, I fell into the car door on the way home and got a black eye. However, on the last day I met up with some other friends at Iasatis, and started to get into it – the problems there were interesting and varied, and I had a larger group of people willing me up stuff with boundless enthusiasm who also encouraged me onto blues and a red instead of yellows and oranges. So instead of selling my guide book, I thought I’d give it another chance this year. Here’s how it went…

It got off to a good start. I’d arranged to stay with the same group I’d joined up with on my day at Isatis. However I’d only wanted to take a couple of days off work rather than a whole week like them, so advertised for a lift on UKClimbing. Luckily a friend of mine Richard spotted the thread, decided he fancied coming, and within one morning had booked our ferry - perfect, as I’d been increasingly disorientated about my plans. It turned out there was space for him in the gite, and also for my boyfriend who decided to come at the last minute. We fitted the three of us plus three mats comfortably into a 406 – Richard driving, me navigating, and my bloke looking into suitable areas to visit that wouldn’t be heaving with Brits.

Hardin at Buthiers

We met the rest of the group at the F1 in Nemours early on Easter Saturday, and decided to visit Elephant as it was handily in-between the F1 and the gite. We split up into appropriately matched groups to warm up and familiarise ourselves with the rock, the moves and the heat. The sun had started shining despite it having been cold and misty that morning, and it didn’t look back for the rest of the trip. As always, the first problem was a mental challenge, a little scary and a little polished, but once that was overcome (assisted by the magical appearance of the boyfriend for an bit of added encouragement) the adrenaline was starting to course. Richard and I followed part of the orange circuit which surprisingly led away from the madding crowds and into some nice solitude, with unique hidden traverses and problems that fall across gaps. Our group reassembled for lunch, then dispersed in the afternoon, some working specific problems or relaxing in the heat, and others heading off to pick up the keys for the gite.

Eventually lack of time and grumbling stomachs sent us to the supermarket then on to our comfortable and homely gite where the last couple of people had arrived. The decision for the next day’s venue was made astonishingly quickly for a group of 11, and the next morning saw us at Buthiers in the South West.

My 6b slab

So the scene is set, everyone’s eased into the holiday, and it’s time to bear down hard. I get on a warm up orange, lay off my left hand, and get an excrutiating twinge inside my left deltoid. Sounds like the rotator cuff my friends say. Feeling somewhat dejected, as I already have a list of injuries as long as my arm, I resolve to have a slab day… and find I’m actually incredibly psyched for slabs – most unusual for me. In fact, unheard off, since I normally get on a slab and start bawling. When we’d recce’d the circuit on arrival, I’d seen a 6b slab on the black circuit which looked distinctly doable, and it was on my mind as we worked along the problems. When we moved base after lunch I found myself standing in front of it, and I knew I WANTED it, and I would get up it, so dismissed all vague thoughts that I was deluding myself. It was an obvious set of moves, on miniscule sloping edges, with the move off the ground being the hard part. After several (too many to count) frustrating bounces with helpful knuckles in my back to stop me falling back, I latched the small two finger crimp, then the next go I held it with no additional knuckle, and crept on towards the top and manteled up to complete the problem all in one surprisingly fluid effort, followed by a massive whoop! I then managed to repeat it for photos. Boy, what a buzz. After that I flashed a lovely red smeary slab nearby. I realised the whole day had been designed by fate, as it was the first time ever I actually wanted to climb slabs, and hard ones too!

Lizard at Rocher Canon

The venue for the next day was chosen even more easily – Rocher Canon. Unfortunately though, it’s a very confusing place: a maze of similar sized boulders, some with problems on and some without, not all of them shown in any one guide, and none of the guides matching up. Personally I find it hard to get into something unless I understand it, and spent the time wandering round and taking photos, not even putting my shoes on. Luckily we met some other friends who had a baby to look after so weren’t climbing as much, so I had more people to chill with. As the evening approached, others filtered back to the gite and the place emptied out, and I was still chilling. I finally sank down onto a bouldering mat near the baby and the restlessness of the day started to ebb away, and while watching the bloke and his mates work a blunt arête on the red circuit I suddenly felt the urge to put my shoes on. I decided to go and warm up on some yellows I’d seen earlier on then give the arete a go. I didn’t have a mat or a spotter, and some of the yellow problems were more distressing than on first appearance, but each move I made left me smiling, and I followed the arrows further and further off into the remoteness lost in my own little world. I’m not a fan of being on my own, as I lack motivation and courage normally finding it easier to feed off that exuded by others, however today was different – I could listen to the little grunts and giggles coming from myself like an outsider, and enjoy the focus I needed to flash these problems, they were all well within my ability but a great mental challenge without foam protection or an encouraging partner. I realised that similar to the slabs yesterday, today had been laid out just to teach me this little lesson, and allow me to discover something I never thought possible of myself. I wondered what tomorrow’s lesson will be, and looked forward to letting it unfold. I returned to the remnants of my group happy and bouncing, to their pleased disbelief. The arete no longer appealed, as I was absorbed in my own moment (although I couldn’t resist tell my mates about my experience).

The next day we planned to head to the outskirts of Isatis and wander over to Cuisiniere later on, but ended up parking at Isatis and walking over to Cuisiniere to begin the day instead, as none of us had been there and it had more suitable circuits. I was very excited about the potential discovery I would make that day, but instead of waiting for it to happen I decided I just had to get on with the climbing, because although the previous day had been a good challenge mentally, it hadn’t been very physical and my finger tips were still in pristine condition. This was the last full day so I had to give them a bashing! I’d also decided I’d like to try some problems at awkward angles so I get used to popping off rather than falling off in control, and coincidentally this was the perfect place for good varied problems. Richard and I started off on the mountain orange circuit and discovered a bit of everything – mantels, slabs, arêtes, jamming cracks, horizontal and vertical squirms and so on. There were only 20 problems on it, so we decided to have a go at them all (ignoring the link ups) as neither of us had completed a whole circuit before. In the first half of the day we attempted seven of them, only passing on one as it was rather green, polished and highball. After lunch I struggled to get going, until tried a ‘magique’ red on recommendation from the others, which got my blood pumping. I didn’t manage to complete it, but it gave me the drive to find Richard again and carry on with the oranges. We attempted the remaining 13 of them, flashing most, getting others after a couple of goes, and only giving up on three more – a layback crack, a pointless traverse, and a crimpy highball. One aspect linked all these three and in fact the rest of the circuit too – extreme polish! It took me a while to cotton on that this was my third and final lesson. I normally avoid polish and find alternative footholds, and I did on a few of the early problems on this circuit - I’m normally of the opinion that polish is un-natural, and therefore there’s no reason to make an effort to get used to it, so I make extreme efforts to avoid it. However, the orange circuit at Cuisiniere held my attention so well it was well worth continuing, and before long I realised that the unpolished footholds were so small that it just made sense to stand on the polished ones, as they actually stuck. When I realised that polish was the lesson of the day I let out another whoop and set myself to finish the circuit with a vengeance. We reached problem 17 (still with 4 problems to go as we hadn’t start at ‘Depart’), and I felt really spent and was slipping off the holds, but I reminded myself of my realisation… steeled myself up and braced my muscles… grabbed the top hold then yomped off along the traverse, finally topping out on what felt like tenuous slopers but would have seemed like jugs earlier on in the day. I was glad I’d stuck at it. The final problem was an appealing looking mantel – once again the alternative footholds were in totally the wrong place, so I stood on the polished ones and bingo it was much easier, so I polished it off (hee hee).

Kirsty floating at Cuvier

We finished in the dying rays of the sun, tired and happy. We only had a half day remaining so had a recce of Cuvier Rempart and Bas Cuvier itself, then said goodbye to the others and started the long journey home still buzzing about our experience. I was pleased and honoured to have experienced my set of three lessons, all things that I normally avoid or think aren’t relevant for me - it seems there really is a time and a place for everything.

So the trip started well, and apart from two bouts of dodgy tummy (both mine, on the trip out and the return) and one stolen wallet, it finished well too - everything ‘just worked’. All three in our car came back saying it was one of the most enjoyable and memorable trips they’ve been on. I think the moral is to never give up hope, and remember there’s always something to learn if you stay open minded. I expect I’ll be back next year. As I joked to the others… first red (4c) last year, first black (6b) this year, next year I’m going for my first Font 7a!