New Blog from Joe Kreidel and team

Here's a shout out to Team Tuesday - Joey and his Tuesday climbing buddies down in Tucson have started a blog chronicling their adventures on Arizona rock. We visited Joe and his family over the New Year (scroll down to see all of January) and had great fun.

You'll also see their blog on our list to the right - check it out frequently.

April 26, 2009 - Draper's Bluff

Trad, trad, trad. And more trad. It's been a while since I've posted about a local climbing trip, but we've had a chance to head out to So Ill and sample some fine trad, getting some quality climbing in on the other popular So Ill crag owned by Eric Ulner.

The last two times I've gone with Craig both times, Tall Tim, Meg and Carine once each. My goal was to get some feel for gear placement again, climb some new routes (for me) and keep it nice and easy for my still gimpy wrist. I'm not quite sure what's going on with my wrist, but it's healing VERY slowly. I try to stay off it but I'm also being foolish and climbing because, well, I can't help it.

On our first trip, we had fun warming up on familiar climbs like Dust Doctors, then started to have fun. Craig tore it up, onsighting Never Pass A Chance to Get Pumped .10a mixed. We also climbed Ant Killer 5.9, a classic dihedral, which was my first time on it.

Has anyone ever noticed that most of the climbs of the .10b grade at Draper's are pretty tough? Case in point: Shame .10b. The guidebook calls it, "... [an] obtuse dihedral..." which would be quite right. It's probably the best .10 I've climbed in So Ill, right up there with Wild At Heart .10d at Railroad Rock at the Falls. You start on nice moves up a smooth, thin dihedral, then get to challenge yourself navigating a blind slopey roof. Interesting and varied climbing continues for another 50+ feet, and I only breathe a sigh of relief when I'm at the anchors. I was very happy to send, as I'd tried it a few times years ago to no avail.

Another tough .10b is Back to School, with sustained climbing and rather cryptic cruxes. There are good gear placements but they require some fortitude and forearm endurance... of which I am in short supply from lack of climbing.

We also had fun with Monarch .10b mixed, and Inner Space, .10a, which requires summiting two small bulges and World's Saddest Dog, 5.9 - which feels a bit spicy. Good gear placements, but you have to trust that the holds will be there.

The highlight for me, was High Over Camp .10a. Moderate 5.7 climbing takes you to about 10 feet of .10a handcrack. My crack technique is atrocious, and I took my first substantial lead fall on gear as a result. I first placed a #2 Camalot in what I hoped was a bomber placement, then placed a .5 TCU right before the overhang begins. Being the idiot that I was, I then gasped, grunted and heaved my way about 18 inches up and started crying while trying to place a #4 Camalot four unsuccessful times. After finally shoving the damn thing in, I attempted to clip the rope across my body, in a horrendous, twisted, non-crack optimized position. Mind you, all my own damn fault. Craig later schooled me on good stemming/back-stepping technique while jamming like a crack master. I felt my hand slowly slipping as I reached to clip, tried anyway, but just before I could clip, I was out and falling.

Craig saved me with a nice catch, and I took a little 15 footer on the .5. It held beautifully. Go Metolius!!

Tim, Carine and Meg all had good times on Surprise 5.8, Bad Day 5.7, Dust Doctors 5.8 and various other climbs. Tim's project is Fancy Lads, .10c, which has a tough first two bolts. He made good progress and hopes to finish it soon.

While Tim and I climbed Fancy Lads, Craig took Carine up Bloody Nose for the view. We always take Draper's Bluff newbies up this climb. I never tire of it, for the view is more than worth it. They ended up taking a bit longer than expected, so Tim and I watched Aaron Schneider work on Guns N Roses V9 on the Egg Boulder by the main path up to the bluff. I'm not sure if he sent it that day or not. I borrowed his pad and managed to climb Scrambled Eggs V5 after 4 or 5 tries. I was lucky that the hard move required the left arm, not the right. :) From a sit-start under a mini-roof, you do a nice move to a big, but good pinch, move your feet up and do a long-ish move to a jug. Control the swing, then figuring out how to top out is the next crux.

That pretty much ended our day. Great climbing, with great weather and good friends.

WOODY FRENCH STYLE

Ah yes here he was standing up in the railway station in Agen when I went to pick him up.

Woody had made it to the Ol' Continent.  

Rain.  Did not stop all day.  oh well.  I assured him sun did exist in this country of mine.

It is always a bit surreal to see friends you are used to see often in a particular place, suddenly in a totally different setting, one that is also so familiar, the land of my roots, but where Woody fit as a smiley surprise, a sort of a hidden track. I knew a few smiles were ahead in the Binder household!
And so Woody started his crash course in how to live well in the land of Voltaire. Getting in on Easter friday he was on for a ride!

Jetlag? Naaaa. Did not want to hear of it. Early on Saturday it was on to the weekly farmers market in Nérac. 

Rain.  Again.  No sign of stopping.  But no matter,the American had to start with a few fresh veggies and munched on some croissants, pain au chocolat and other pain aux raisins (his favorite). The training was starting hard and "serious".  Odile and Jean-Claude (my sis and brother in law) coming for lunch, it was time for lesson #2: the aperitif, the almost obligatory ritual before a meal involving guests.  Yes you guessed right it does involve some alcohol.  Of course the "trainee" had to taste some local home brew, a "vin d'orange" (orange wine), my mom's best.  A smile on his face was saying it all.  Encore...  The student was satisfied with his teachers so far!

Then it was on to some home improvement, Woody helping my dad repair an armoire door.  Under the watchful eye of dad the door was back in place, broken chip re-glued.  Fernand (dad) was rather pleased.  Those Americans were resourceful indeed.  Hummm...  That earned Woody a big fatherly hug, and later on a tour of his wood workshop where every tool was made by him during the war.

Rain always.  But there was that little old town of mine to walk through.  A little bit of moisture was not going to stop us.  We'd end up in a cafe for a (bad French!) beer (and a coffee for me) serenaded by the bartender who, I suspected, might have had a bit too much of what he was selling!

Easter day, the training continued.  Our trainee is put to work in the kitchen:  apple peeling duty.  Jean-Claude is overseeing the task.

"I have French words floating in my head". Woody's head is spinning. We find we have the perfect cure. We quickly explain to him after an excellent Easter meal (Tagine of lamb and apples, Vacherin for dessert..) that every lunch time meal is followed by an espresso and a "pousse café" on special days. "Push coffee" literally. yes alcohol again. This time a local Armagnac. Lesson #3: how to properly drink it.


My brother Benoit start by explaining that some people like to drink it after they are done with coffee, in their very coffee cup which would be at an ideal temperature to heat up the Armagnac. As soon as he poured the amber nectar in Woody's cup, my brother Patrice (the General) becomes frantic and turning to Benoit cries in despair:
"You cannot do this, not for someone drinking Armagnac for the first time! Sacrilege! It has to drunk in the proper glass!"
By that time Woody was holding the cup with straight arms, looking at my two brothers with concern.
A loud discussion between two brothers about something seemingly having to do with him or whatever he was holding in his hands, could not be good. All of us around were on the floor laughing.
Patrice rushed back with balloon glasses, and handed one to Woody.
"This is the proper glass!"
Woody was breathing better. He poured the content of his cup in the glass, under the horrified look of General Patrice.
"I'll just act as if I did not see that" declamed Patrice in a very theatrical gesture, covering his eyes with his hand.  More laughters.
Lesson #4: always make sure all members of the family agree on traditions before proceeding.

The following day Woody and I were heading for the South East, Provence rock to climb. Caroline picked us up in Montpellier. A few more lessons were ahead.
Lesson #5: How to find your way on the roads of France: follow the TOUTES DIRECTIONS, or AUTRES DIRECTIONS, signs. Clever frenchies. You reach a round-about (and we love those) searching for your way, not seeing the town name you are looking for.  You can go a few times around before before you figure it out (clever Frenchies indeed): one road goes TOUTES DIRECTIONS (All directions). Handy! How can you be wrong?
"How about the other roads?" ask our clever student. Humm well you always can choose AUTRES DIRECTIONS (Other Directions) if you are not happy with your options.

"No no the other roads those which do not have these signs". Caroline and I looked at him and in a common accord:
"Humm you are on your own on these. No one knows where they go." We retorted with mysterious look on our faces.
Vive la France.

CALANQUE DE SORMIOU - TRAVERSEE DU BEC

TUESDAY, APRIL 14.

The first day of our Provence climbing adventure looked quite promising, the sky a perfect blue and the sun shinning.  So we decided to aim for the furthest of the climbing crags for which we had opted: Les Calanques.  A succession of white limestone cliffs falling into the mediterranean sea near Marseille, a mere hour 1/2 from the small village of Merindol where we stayed.

First and foremost we were welcome to Provence by our good friend Caroline, now a resident of Montpellier (after 5 years in Saint louis_who would blame her!), who drove us through the provence countryside to La Bourdille, the house of Manon's (my nephew's Fab's wife) family, a beautiful historical Magannerie in the small village of Merindol.  


Great welcome there, with kids, a good "aperitif", and of course good food in good company. And of course Woody managed to entertain the kid with circus acts...actually scaring the little Yohan who did not quite understand why the big guys' head was pointing downwards!
 
Caro went back that night, yes  French people do work from time to time and we got ready for a first day of climbing on French rock.

In the morning Fab, Manon, Woody and I departed for The Calanque de Sormiou where we met my brother Jean, who is living his retirement dream teaching kids the techniques of climbing and mountaineering, when he is not involved in some non for profit or city council operations.

Jean suggested to do the Bec's Traverse which would take us around the tip of the cliff and back up.

A beautiful traverse, hugging the Sea at times, on a limestone which felt like nothing I had ever climbed on.  Solid, yet a bit glossy.  Technically the climbing was not hard but felt extremely exposed.  Traversing is always "interesting", and I have to admit, the pitons, or bolts were there mostly as a psychological reminder we actually were hooked to a rope!  
Fall factor would have sent us into the crashing waves.  

Since there were five of us, that gave me an opportunity to learn a bit about the two rope system.  Manon and Fab, being on one rope, Jean, Woody and I on two thinner ropes. Definitely took a bit of getting used to.  But my bro is used to "handle" newbies at more complex rope rope management.  It was great to learn from him.  Here he is happy  to let us lead everything

As we finished the loop around the "Bec" (the beak) we reached a wider area, perfect for a well deserved rest and from where we could get on some vertical lines.

The sun was pounding but I was not going to complain.  We finished the day on 6a pretty physical route with quite a bit of a commiting move in the middle.  A 6a would be a 10a here in the States.  Well some would say the Euro have tough ratings!  The concept of smearing of polished limestone is of different World and requires a lot of faith!  Here is Fab on that route going through the crux.

We headed back on a class 3 or so trail overlooking the cliffs of the Calanque. Climbing in Paradise.  More photos of the day here.

Bouldering in the NYTimes - April 14

It's all about Hueco Tanks. And it appears that climbing is getting more and more mainstream as we see articles like this pop up in everyday 'traditional' media.

Heading for the Southern Rock

It is raining here in Southwestern France but we are hoping for better skies in Provence in the next days. woody made it two days ago and is entertaining everybody with his personal touch on the French language! It is great. Tomorrow we are heading to Montpellier where our good friend Caroline, a good ol' former Saint louisian will come and pick us up to drive us to La Bourdille, a Provence country house where we'll stay for the next three days. There we'll find my nephew Fab ( on the video of the previous post) and his family ( Manon, his wife and three kids, and Magdalena their au-pair ). My Bro Jean will join us as well. The house is a family house on Manon's side, a "magnanerie" where silk worms were raised ( no kidding!). It is a beautiful old Provence house...you know a bit older than a few hundred years!
Today we'll fill up on good French food and wine as it is Easter after all and the "tribe" celebrates: 19 around the table, an average number around here!
Below is the place we should be climbing on Tuesday: Montagne Sainte Victoire near Aix en Provence, famously painted by Cezanne, and less famously by...me.

More after touching some rock.

Font

And here is a bit of French flair.
Fontainebleau. Fab, my nephew (Marion's older bro) is the climber on Metromotrice and Gymnopedie.
Escalade en forêt de Fontainebleau : "Boule de Nerfs", "Métromotrice", "Gymnopédie" from Grimpeabloc on Vimeo.

ACROSS THE POND

I know I know this is supposed to be a blog about climbing. Technically I shall be climbing in France in a couple of weeks for a couple of days so, the journey to get there is part of the…journey.
Traveling across the “pond” is a bit like toying with time without the fun (really). The day starts, the light comes, and goes and comes. It feels like it is the same LOOOOONNNNNNG day but it is not; it is the future really. Where did those seven hours go. Some sort of time warp, black hole.... Jetlag….confusion….fatigue and people speaking my native tongue. Finally! Traveling long distance is also a great occasion for people watching, doing a bit of what Malcom Gladwell calls “thin slicing” in his book Blink, which has been my transatlantic read. Those very few first impressions when you lay eyes on someone and the idea behind them. In a steel tube for 8 hours there is material. Quite entertaining to read Gladwell theories surrounded by so many “subjects”.
Now I am seating at a café in the airport, indulging in my “coming home” ritual: an espresso and a croissant.
5 more hours on my butt, waiting for my train which will take me across France to my native land in the South West. Funny to think I still have a whole day of traveling. Not sure funny is the right word though.
….
2 espressos later
….
Charles de Gaulle airport is not a welcome place for a tired body. Simply, my butt hurts. I have not found one seat offering any cushion and the bones of my behind are in pain in spite of any natural cushion I have in that very location. Here there is wood everywhere. Pretty but not comfy. Achhh I love my country and its sense of aesthetics. The airport employees look like fashion models. Actually if I am not mistaken their uniform was designed by a fashion designer (Jean-Paul Gauttier himself I believe). You got to love my people!

Want to sleep….cannot….

I am sipping on yet another espresso and 3 hours to go till I get into the train for…5 1/2 hours.

Want to sleep….cannot…. shouldn’t.

The espresso is not kicking in anymore.
Back to walking around. The only way to make sure I won’t end up with my eyes closed.
So I “thin slice” again sitting at the bottom of an automatic stair which does not work (he he the repairman is probably on strike! This is France after all!). The reactions are quite entertaining. Some stare at the defunct “machine”, as if they do not know how it works. I want to shout:
“It is still a staircase, you know… with steps on which you walk up….”
Nooo it is much funnier to watch them puzzled, sometimes turning around, sometimes gingerly stepping on as if the “evil machine” was going to swallow them.
Then one of the blue fashion boys comes by and in one turn of a key puts an end to my airport entertainment. The Machine sqeeks again, carrying a load of smily French faces.

Time to move on to a new location.

After yet another espresso....

The train. I am in the TGV (French High speed train) in a "wagon silence" (silent wagon). I love it. The SNCF trying to create the perfect environment. No cell phone rings allowed. silence. Right. If only the train was not full of ....French! He He. My people really do not like to be told what to do. Would you have guessed? And of course it goes on for 5 hours +. Cell phones ringing here and there, and people answering carrying long conversations to which I really do not want to listen. One woman close to me is totally contortioned, wrapped up around her phone, telling her correspondent she is trying not to speak too loud because "she is not supposed to talk on her phone in the wagon" Oh gee at least she knows. Comforting....
:)
Yes I love my people.... grrrrrrrrrrr.
I think I'll have another espresso.

Sophie