This October I had some amazing news.
I spent around two months of the spring working on a
route in El Chorro route called Ace Ventura. It was a vertical nightmare of crimps
and technical sequences, but it just appealed to me more than any hard route I
had ever looked at. Having only ever done one 7b+, but feeling very confident
that I could crack the sequence with enough work, I invested many hours in it. I
burnt out my last pair of shoes and nearly gave up several times. Fascination
with the route, delusions of my own abilities, and above all a supportive and patient
partner (thanks Charlotte!) kept me trying hard and it came to the point of
obsession. All I could really think about was that sequence and how I could
grow more finger skin to try it again.
We scraped together what few pennies we had and I bought
a brand new pair of La Sportiva Cobras which I really got on well with. They
gave me confidence using some footholds I had previously decided were too tiny
and rubbish and suddenly I was coming up with better ways to do the hardest
moves. On the morning we left, after roughly 8 top ropes and 17 tries on lead,
I finally sent my first 8a, sharing a beautiful moment with my girlfriend who
had been there with me through the whole thing and had tears in her eyes, and
then shouting and screaming at the passing commuter train from the top of the
route! It was all a bit emotional.
On about the 15th try on lead, when I was
really getting close, my friend Patrick Pearce took a few photos, all of which
came out looking great. Everyone agreed that one of these in particular was
exceptional. It very accurately captured the pain, suffering and determination that
was necessary for me to pull through those crux moves. Six months later I
entered that image into a competition on UKClimbing.com run by Lyon Outdoor.
 |
| Photo courtesy of Patrick Pearce. For some more great photography or to get an awesome photo done of you go to www.patrickpearce.com |
I won a place on the 2012 Petzl Roctrip, courtesy of Lyon, including free flights, accommodation and food! Being a climbing bum with very little income, this was a fantastic opportunity for me to travel further than I could possibly go, and to one of the biggest and best climbing events of the year. People would be gathering from all around the world, including some big names and hard climbers, to celebrate 10 years of the Petzl Roctrip. It was to take place in a newly developed area in Patagonia, The Piedra Parada and the nearby Buitrera Cañón. They were even going to provide me with some new gear.
Amazing news indeed.
* * * * * *
It was Sunday afternoon, I was well on my way to the Piedra
Parada. I lay on my bed in the small town of Esquel looking out of the window
at the surrounding mountains and enjoying the peace and quiet after the
somewhat hectic city I had just left. On the flight with me were about 20 or 30
other climbers from many different countries all on their way to the same place,
and I was so excited about what we would see the following day.
The journey so far had already been amazing, and I spent
many hours having every one of my senses bombarded by the crazy city of Buenos
Aires. This was by far the furthest I had ever been from home and I was revelling
in the sights, sounds and flavours of this new culture.
I woke early, the time difference counting in my favor,
and set out to see as much as I could on foot. My accommodation was at a lovely
little guest house in Flores, a sleepy district just outside the center, so after
some breakfast empanadas I hopped onto the Subte (underground train) for the
fast track into town. Knowing barely anything about where I was, where I wanted
to go or how to get there, I decided to just get off at the stop that the most
people disembarked at and see where it led. Independencia station turns out to
be quite a good place to start, and I set off walking from there.
What struck me most in the city everywhere I went was the
street art. Stickers, stencils, spray paint and sculpture are there to see in
just about every direction you look, with much of it being interesting and
original work. Added to this are some daring jugglers and performers running
out in front of cars at the lights, street vendors selling everything from 'genuine'
Ray Bans (well chuffed with my pair for less than a fiver!) from every angle. The BA buzz
is really something to experience! 
As I approached San Telmo for the second time (which,
incidentally, is about 5 minutes’ walk from Independencia station if you go the
right way!), there was a large crowd gathered and a raucous noise rattling off
the walls and down the street. I soon realized it was in fact a Samba band with
a crowd of dancers and flag bearers in tow. It turned out to be one of many,
and as I explored the area there seemed to be a new procession on every street.
Every one of them seemed to be immaculately tight in performance and each was
accompanied by its own dancers, flag wavers and other oddballs.
From there I decided to try to get to an area called La
Boca, famous for its
colourful streets and outdoor Tango dancing, but when I arrived in the district I
was not really sure where to go. Unlike San Telmo, it is not somewhere that is just
great on every street. After an hour or so of curious strolling down streets I
definitely should not have been on at that time of night, I gave in and started
heading back toward the Samba party. I’m sure there is some great stuff to see
in La Boca but it certainly did not feel like a great place to be after dark!
On returning to San Telmo for the last time, I took a
look at the menu at a place called La Popular and decided this was where I
would rest my feet and sit down to a long anticipated Argentinian prime steak.
I had the Ojo de Bife (rib eye) and it was without a doubt the
thickest, juiciest, best cooked and most tasty steak I have ever eaten.
Absolutely fantastic and much appreciated after the hours of walking.
* * * * * *
A few more streets and several more Samba bands later, I was on the Subte heading back to the guest house after a long but fascinating day in Buenos Aires, and it was not long at all before I was sound asleep!
Sitting on the bus heading out from Esquel, after a
reassuringly Argentinian confusion over when it would depart, I watched the
Alpine ranges fade away to desert. A harsh, dusty landscape of sand and scrub
stretched out from the road, and for many miles it persisted with no sign of
revealing the hidden treasure we had been promised. After a time, the bus
pulled off the tarmac onto a dirt road, and as we carried on into the unknown I
felt very glad I was not in the driver’s seat. I would surely be worrying I had
taken a wrong turn by now!
The bumpy road started to dislodge luggage stowed on
the rack and many people began to be wary of what was above them, trying to
avoid things landing on their heads. As it turned out that was not an entirely
inappropriate introduction to the trip……
Further down the road, I noticed something that I found
very interesting. We passed a section of the Chubut River and along its banks,
and for maybe 50 meters either side, lush grasses and tall green trees had
sprung out of the otherwise quite arid landscape. It was clear to see that the
flowing water brought life to this region and was extremely important to the
flora and fauna alike. We passed through the small village of Gualjaina, sure
enough situated right on the riverside, and as we passed out of the other side the
landscape began to get more rugged and rocky.
Every passenger on the bus became fixated with the same
pursuit, checking out every bit of rock and rubble to try to spot something
climbable. As if all planned out as some kind of introduction to our trip, they
seemed to tease us, gradually getting a little steeper, a little higher, a
little more compact. The rocks became boulders you might climb on if they were
in your back garden, then in your home town, then ones you might even travel
for. Soon the boulders became chossy crags, and it was not long before I was
comparing them to places I had actually been for a day’s climbing. Then came crags
that may have got into the back pages of a guidebook as the ‘esoteric’ ones.
The excitement and anticipation in the bus was palpable. Though I did meet a
few people through the week who had visited Piedra Parada before, to all of us
sitting there right then it was an unknown world full of possibility, and no-one
really knew what to expect. With every passing rock it felt like we could
expect a little more from our final destination.
* * * * * *
If anyone was asleep on the bus, they were surely woken
up at that moment. There were cheers and whoops and oohs and ahs coming from
many mouths and in a multitude of languages. There before us stood the 260
meter piece of egg-shaped rock dominating the landscape, tempting all those who
dare to try to reach its summit. The Piedra Parada.
The bus driver suddenly pulled up way short of the
campground and some heated words were exchanged in Spanish before he finally
gave in and carried on up the track. I got the distinct impression he was
considerably less impressed by the whole affair, he had probably seen it all
before and didn’t really see why we shouldn’t get out and walk. As we crossed
the small bridge over the Chubut and rounded the corner, the Buitrera
Cañón opened its entrance to us and showed the way in to one of the most
incredible climbing areas we would ever visit. We caught a fleeting glimpse of
what lay within its confines and continued on to the Petzl basecamp, only a few
hundred meters further.
Registration with Petzl was pretty straightforward, though
I really did admire the people on the desk dealing with people in at least four
different languages with apparent ease. Everyone lined up to collect their bag
of goodies and then we were free to pitch our camp and head to the crag. I
picked a spot down by the quietly babbling river, my hammock nestling perfectly
between two trees and providing me with a perfect panoramic view to wake up to
each morning. It was quite simply one the most beautiful places I have ever had
the privilege of calling my home.
* * * * * *
With everyone I had met on the buses heading to different
parts of the campsite and taking longer to pitch their tents, I decided to pack
up my climbing gear and head in to the canyon alone. After the long solitary
trip that had brought me here, it seemed appropriate to experience that first
walk with my own thoughts for company. It gave me some time to come to terms
with where I was and feel grateful to all the people who had made it possible
for me to be there.
The trail into the canyon is nothing short of inspirational.
The well-managed path constructed by the volunteers is mostly flat, making it
easy to wander through in a daze, eyes darting around the walls and mouth
gaping wide throughout. I don’t think anything could have prepared me for the
sheer scale of oh-my-god-I-have-to-climb-that rock that towered over me in
every direction.
Petzl did a great job of bolting hundreds of routes on
just about every feature that looked any good, so what was once an inaccessible
canyon with a smattering of serious, loose and terrifying trad lines has become
a veritable playground for the sport climber, with literally hundreds of routes
ranging from F4 to about F8c in all styles from juggy overhangs to thin slabs.
A good selection of longer routes were established too, with some pretty tough
ones and Sean Villanueva’s contribution incorporating two F8b pitches on a
stunning six pitch line to the top of the wall.
To accompany all this work, they also produced a
particularly professional looking guidebook for the area, easily as good as any
I have seen for areas in the UK and Europe, with great photo topos, route
information and some interesting history about the area too. This made it even
easier to get excited about the rock surrounding me as there were actually even
more climbing sectors than I could have guessed just looking around.
* * * * * *
As I wandered through checking out all the potential for
climbing, I began to get itchy fingers and set about spotting a partner. The
first guy I saw heading down from a sector on his own seemed a likely prospect,
so I gave him a friendly smile and ‘Hola!’ and asked if he was looking for
someone to climb with.
"¿Que?"
That was not the response I hoped for and I desperately
tried to fumble my pitiful Spanish vocabulary into an understandable sentence
but to no avail. I asked hopefully, “Français?”.
“Portuguese. Brasil”, he said with a smile.
Oh. Well I tried. On to the next one.
I began trying to tune my ears to scout out languages I
might have a bit more hope with and eventually heard the familiar tones of a
Yorkshireman who I had met on the bus on the way out. A welcome line of
communication was opened and he was looking for someone to climb with too so I
happily pulled out my harness and gave him a belay. We did a couple of nice
lines in Sector Ortega and then moved over the canyon to Sector Circo to finish
the evening.
As it happened these areas became the two most popular later in
the week so I was happy to get some of the best lines done early on. I felt
like I was climbing pretty well, but also got burned out as the days of travel
and lack of grub caught up with me. I pulled on my sleeping bag and slumped
into the hammock a happy but exhausted man.
* * * * * *
Hammocks offer many positive aspects but also some unique
drawbacks. Most importantly to me that night was the way in which the heat is
conducted away from underneath when it’s windy, and despite having a very warm
bag to sleep in I discovered first-hand how far the temperature drops at night
in the Patagonian desert. A few adjustments were required in the morning – for
anyone out there doing the same I highly recommend a rope tarp in the bum area
under your sleeping mat and some thick wooly socks in case your feet end up
creeping off the end! With a bit of practice getting in and out and the right
insulation though, sleeping in a hammock was a joy, especially when waking up
at first light and immediately seeing all the colours of the sunrise.
Over the next couple of days I spent many happy hours
exploring new areas of the canyon and climbing with many different people from
all around the world. Whilst climbing with two guys from the Tirol, Paul and
Daniel, I tried a few harder routes and it was fun to work on some hard sequences,
but I came to the conclusion that trying a route more than once was to miss out
on other things. The rock there had some unique and very interesting formations
and I wanted to sample as many of these as I could to really get a feel for the
area. As it happens many of the best looking pieces of rock go between 6a and
6c, so I was able to get a good few done first go.
Though all the routes were pretty good, and some
downright amazing, none were really what you might describe as ‘immaculate
rock’. Helmets were most definitely needed and I don’t think I climbed a single
route where nothing fell off. People stopped shouting ‘rock!’ (or ‘piedra!’) for
anything smaller than a fist, as it was just assumed that stuff up to that size
would be coming down all the time. Onsighting quite often took on an
adventurous feel since you had to not only find each hold, but also brush it off
and test it before committing your weight to it. I don’t think any of this
really detracted from the trip though, if anything it added a bit of adventure
and character to the place, and helped to keep the authentic feel of climbing
newly established lines.
Fortunately, the lovely people at Lyon Outdoor had looked
after me very well and sent me some great new gear to replace the tatty old
stuff I was using. This included a Petzl Meteor III helmet which has to be the
comfiest, lightest and least distracting helmet I have ever worn. I was never
really aware of it whilst climbing or belaying so it was always an easy
decision to put it on and keep it on and it definitely caught a good few lumps
of rock for me. Even the pro climbers were wearing helmets there, something I
would not have expected on single pitch sport routes. I noticed most of them had
opted for the new obscenely light Petzl Sirocco, and it seemed like opinions
may be shifting toward using helmets even on bolted routes when there are such unrestrictive
ones now available.
They also sent me the Petzl Sama harness which seems to
get the balance between weight and comfort just right for me, and the Reverso 4 belay device which handled every rope I tried exceptionally well both for belay
and abseil, and came into its element when used in guide mode on the multipitch
routes. I felt very co-ordinated with the matching helmet, harness and chalkbag
going perfectly with my shorts and shoes, so I guess orange and orange are my
colours now!
The star pick though had to be the 80m Beal Diablo 9.8mm rope,
this is a great rope and seemed to handle well in every situation - slick
enough to give slack fast but still grabby enough to feel confident about
making every catch. I used it a lot in the Gri Gri 2 but tried a few other
devices including an old school Fig 8 and it always seemed to pay out and lock
off perfectly. Beal say they have a new Unicore technology to bond the sheath to the
core providing better handling and durability, and I have to say it really does
work!* * * * * *
By the time the event had its official first day, there
were over a thousand climbers there and more on their way. The Petzl team had
done a fantastic job putting up so many new routes but even so it began to get
very busy, with all the best lines being snapped up for most of the day. I
decided now was the time to get on a longer route so that we would be
guaranteed at least a few pitches of climbing, and also because I really do love
to get up high on a multipitch.
The obvious and most alluring objective was without a
doubt the Piedra Parada itself. There are only two independent lines that go
free, a bolted 7b+ and a 6a+ requiring trad gear. I could not find a partner
for the bolted line (and was not too sure about a pitch at that grade on loose
rock!), but I was also quite captivated by the idea of placing gear on a big
route again since I have been clipping bolts for quite some time now.When Mike
Smith approached told me he had brought a rack and wanted to do the same route,
I jumped at the chance and we set off early and catch the sun on the east
facing wall.
The route commenced with a nasty squeeze chimney which
Mike seemed in his element on. I followed rather too quickly, only to find
myself wedged tight in a ridiculous position struggling to get my bag off my
back so that I could continue. I am definitely out of practice on gentleman’s
climbing techniques and it seemed to turn into a pitch of uphill caving. I
actually managed a no hands no feet rest at one point, using only my slightly
over-compressed ribcage for support. Not the most graceful of starts but I
found it all hilarious!
Just before we left the ground, another familiar
Yorkshire voice had floated through the air and this one turned out to be none
other than Steve McClure. We waited for a few minutes at the first belay and
sure enough his partner Mayan Smith-Gobat came zooming up with no trad gear,
clipping only the old bolts and dubious pitons and running the first two
pitches together – “if it’s free-solo it’s free-solo right?”. We thought it
best to let them through. Steve came by shortly after, affable and modest as
ever and taking great efforts to make the 5c pitch we were about to get on seem
like he had to engage more than one of his fingers to climb it.
The third pitch provided the crux and I was on the sharp
end. Only 6a+, but a wandering and devious pitch that quickly became harder
every time I went the wrong way, which I managed to do several times. Not
really having any idea where I was going next, worrying about pulling rock off
on all but the slopeyest holds and placing cams for the first time in well over
a year all combined to make this quite exciting, and I was certainly awake by
the time I reached the anchor.
A small shuffle down a chossy ledge led to the next
pitch, a very enjoyable chimney with a bit of jamming, some back-and-footing, a
smattering of face climbing and a good old fashioned udge. I was a bit
apprehensive though as any falling rock would be channelled neatly down in a
direct line to Mike’s probably quite unappreciative head. Trying to climb
delicately and gracefully on a pitch like that presented an interesting
challenge. Mike led the slab above, and soon we were on the belay for the last
pitch being met by Steve and Mayan on their way down. A nice chat and a couple
of photos later we nipped up the last easy pitch and ditched our gear for the
scramble to the summit.
From the final anchor, there is a long walk around a
spiralling ledge all the way to the south face. Here an easy to miss chalky
arrow (I say that because we did miss it at first) points the way up to the
next ledge system, so we cautiously picked our way up a couple of meters of
vertical rock. The climbing is easy, but a fall there could easily be fatal and
we were very much aware of it. A series of cairns led us up through some easier
scrambles, and about 20 minutes after leaving the last anchor we finally sat
down to sign a scrap of paper for the summit log.
The view from the top was breathtaking. This was to be my
first desert tower summit, something I had wanted to achieve for years, and I
have to say I was not disappointed. Despite the intense wind ripping across, we
stayed for quite some time up there taking pictures and exchanging few words.
There was no doubt this was a special place and we
both wanted to savour it.
* * * * * *
Each evening there were films, slideshows and bands to
check out – we saw footage from the previous Roctrips, a great new film starring
Nina Caprez on a super classic multipitch in Austria called the Silbergeier, another
great new film about climbing in Columbia, and some local people performing
their traditional flamenco dance routines. It was actually one of the local
acts I enjoyed the best, a mixture of tap dancing, poi and percussion in which
guys dressed like tango ninjas created amazing rhythms as part of an almost
capoeira style battle. Definitely something I had not seen before!
