Spain - Day 26, Climbing the Frontales Wall, El Chorro
Kilometers Driven: 0 Routes Climbed: 3 I haven't had much luck with rock climbing this trip, a huge disappointment as Spain is arguably home to more climbing per capita than anywhere else in the world. This has mostly to do of course with my failure to acquire the correct books and information, my inability to speak (or more importantly understand) much Spanish, and of course the fact that while Pola doesn't mind climbing, its not really her favorite sport. So I was PUMPED to climb in the mythical El Chorro, and though I wasn't going to have the chance to climb directly off the Camino, the infamous Frontales wall was calling to me like a heroine needle to an addict. It was time to get it on, and I was taking no prisoners! Yesterday, before our hike on the Camino I had sampled two easy routes on the entrance wall to Frontales. It wet my appetite, so today I decided to go all out, and picked an area that was a) removed from the crowds, tucked between a lot of hard routes and thus attracting only a few advanced teams. b) was tall enough to use the entire advantage of my 70 meter rope. c) completely kicked my ass physically, but hopefully in return for some form of success. I got lucky, and nailed all three points. I started ambitious. With limited prior knowledge of the crag's use of grading, starting off on a 38 meter 6a+ was maybe a bit risky. The grade, however, had little to do with the availability of good grips, and jacked up on the previous day's adrenaline junky attitude, I swiftly conquered the route: Surprising myself with a clean finish of the longest single pitch climb I had ever done. So I stepped it up a notch. Assuming that the 34 meter 6b next to it was similarly graded for its length more than a scarcity of easy holds, I jumped on it ready to burn my fingers out over giving in to the bulgy endurance challenge. To my shock and pleasure, despite a technically much more advanced route, warmed up as I was and with less options to consider for holds, I flew up the 6b, only sticking a few moments on the right-arm burning crux around the 25 meter mark. I'm feeling good now, ready to rock what ever comes. So we get on something crazy. Next to my two on-sights is a third route, a 47 meter single pitch 6c. Firstly, apart from a multipitch climb or two, I've never climbed straight up that far, which is an exhilarating thought as I tie in and stretch out my tendons. Secondly, 6c is s project level grade for me when i'm in climbing shape and in practice, neither of which is as the moment true--note the opening paragraph to this post--a thought I quickly toss aside as I gain the first bolt, a shaky 6 meters up on an overhung bulge. The climbing is excellent, and though I occasionally stick on a few balancey moves, unsure of my feet in my DWS Boreal shoes (I finally blew out the tow rubber of my beautiful La Sportiva Testarosas and haven't replaced them yet), I'm confident on the sloped pockets as vertical becomes overhung. My two years on Mallorcan limestone have trained me well. But as I reach the height of the anchor on the 6a, my first route of the day, my arms are giving out. I pop a shoulder pretty badly mantling up a bit of slab my fingers can't handle, and shortly afterwards feel the crux of the 6b as my right arm begins to pump out on a 4 meter stretch of overhang. The lack of training this last month is taking its toll, and my body is screaming as I hit another bit of slab at the 38 meter mark, a foot blows and I take the routinely bouncy 8 meter lead fall with a bit of a wimper. Thankfully Pola had strapped herself to a bit of rock as extra security should I fall. Catching someone on lead who is a solid 25+ kilos heavier than you can be a bit... Difficult, so we always carry enough slings and rope to tie her down. And that was it. Once I was sitting, my body made it clear that I had done all I could, and that was alright. I lowered myself off and we packed up right as the rain clouds came and now sit tired, happy and relaxed in the warm nest of the van, drinking chai tea and I feel like king of the world. To be continued... Special events: Climbing in El Chorro, so so so good Home grown local Flamenco Music = incredible
