Archiv des Autors: ninacap

I had a pleasant time this spring climbing in one of my favorite places on earth: the Verdon gorge. 

This place has something very true to me; it somehow brings together certain types of people. Some are climbers, some are goat farmers, some are gypsies and some are just tourists visiting “la route des crêtes”.

Seeing those walls all over brings up much indecision and often you don’t know with which route to start! As I’ve been climbing regularly in the gorge over the last 10 years, I am finally slowly getting the feeling for choosing the right wall at the right moment.
Also, it’s always very refreshing to exchange some words with Bruno Clement. He’s the one who’s been putting bolts since pretty much ever. And he always has some new pearls to offer. Some of those recently opened climbs are close to the famous “Tom et je ris” (This one has two additional new pitches btw).

This wall has always been one of my favorites because it’s the most obvious and you can see it across the canyon when you stop at the first belvedere of Escales.

Together with my friend Ann Raber from California, we climbed two new routes of Graou on that wall. The first is called “je vous salue Barri” (5 pitches up to 7c, dihedral and jamming style), situated to the very left of the wall. And the other one called “Panetonne je ris” (7c+, 8a+, 7a+) is an outstanding tufa line 200m to the right of Tom et je ris. Both of the routes are going to be published in the next edition of the Verdon guidebook. Stay tuned!

Besides new lines, Verdon has hundreds of old routes to offer! I took advantage of the colder spring temps and climbed some classics on Escales like “Séance tenante” a single pitch 8a from 1987 or “prise de cent”, a fantastic 7a+ multipitch on water drops.
I also spent some days cragging at “Hulkosaure” and “Teillon”, both very impressive walls offering a complete different type of climbing. 

As so often when I live climbing at its most sincere and simple state, routes are calling me. And so did Mingus. It’s a funny story: One night at the “La Palud gypsy camp” I ran into my ex boyfriend Benoit and his partner Leo. They climbed Mingus together two days before in a mix style of free- and aid-climbing. As I know Benoit really well, I could tell that this route meant something to him and as they both talked about that historic route with their eyes bright as the sun, a big excitement overcame me. 
And so I started to have look up Mingus in the guidebook and it’s true, it’s the only route that has an entire page by itself and the introduction has a little eye catcher with my climbing partner Lynn Hill saying:

I got very excited about the idea of free climbing this route and so I talked to Graou about it while eating some mushrooms and showering at this place. He recommended re-bolting the route first in order to stay alive and so I did. Ann, my partner, was in without hesitation and equipped with Graou’s power-drill and some bolts we found in la Palud, we started our mission the day after.

Rebolting such a historical route is a delicate affair. To be honest, I did not ask all the climbers whether they agreed or disagreed, I simply went for it after checking with Graou, Greg and Pascal, people who live and bolt a lot in La Palud. It has been very important to do my best doing a good job and preserving the spirit of the route. My simple goal from the beginning was to make the route safe by adding a 10mm bolt at each belay station and by replacing one to three bolt per pitch where the chance to falling and breaking one of those very old and rusty bolts is high, especially where such a fall could have a bad ending. All the pitons look very good and overall, that 300 meter long itinerary has a logical sense. There is only one confusing spot at pitch 8 where another route crosses into and where obviously, a belay station has been missing in Mingus. 

It took us three days, starting from the top and working on four pitches per day. I first fixed a static rope and drilled the anchor. Then I rappelled down, climbed the route top rope and replaced the most obvious bolts. Ann’s job was taking out the old bolts I replaced and offering a hand whenever needed. Then we both climbed the pitches we’ve been working on ground up. It’s always something different when you climb at the sharp end and it allowes me to see if we took the right decisions. The exchange with Ann has been essentially and I think that we did a good job. I’m very glad that we made it work because it has been so much fun!

Once we did the job, we took out all our heard gear. The next day, Ann had to leave. I was lucky to find a partner who was willing to try the route ground up with me.
After a rainy restday, Sam and I left early in order to have plenty of time to climb Mingus. I had no expectations that day, my simple goal was to have fun and to see if Ann and I did a good job rebolting. But once I freeclimbed the first two pitches, this pleasant game of “sending”overcame me and so the button of determination turned on!

I sent the 8a on my second go (luckily because it’s a real skin killer), but the rest went well on my first go. Some of the pitches I knew well, others less and allover I had a good portion of luck!

Gypsy friend Gio joined us from the top and took some pictures while Sam and I climbed on the last pitches. What a rewarding sensation freeing this historical route with all the support of those adorable humans. Verdon reunites and connects a certain type of people and I feel very honored to be part of that special community.

So now I hope that you will get excited from this blog post and that Mingus will see many attempts in the future. It’s totally worth the trip and the fight! Hats down once more to Lynn Hill, who climbed the route on sight in 1994. 

A huge thanks to Ann Raber who climbed with me almost all spring and who was such a great support all long. Nowhere more than during that rebolt mission. And thanks Sam for the perfect climbing day and high psyche during my free ascent on my very last day in the Verdon. And of course, thanks to Graou for lending his dear baby called “Drill Machine”.

MINGUS 300m/8a

pitch 1: 6c+

Once you survive the 2+ traverse from Baume de l’Escales, you’re happy to clip two new bolts to keep yourself alive while starting the route. By far the loosest pitch of the route. Climbing up on crazy pockets in poor rock. Bolts are good.

pitch 2: 7b

Fantastic start, left traverse in grey rock leading to a slab where you have to climb on it’s right and then traverse left towards the boulder problem. I replaced the bolt there slightly to the right, so it makes it more logic trying the boulder.

pitch 3: 8a

Climbing up and then undercling traverse to the right leading to the first hard move. Replaced a bolt at that spot. Then continuously hard climbing on cauliflower holds. Requires some fresh temps, stiff shoes and a good portion of skin.

pitch 4: 7a

Great Verdon water drop traverse to the left, then I replaced a bolt leaving the ramp. Climbing somehow straight up on poor rock. Scary. I replaced one bolt on a very loose spot.

pitch 5: 7b+

Starts in the same poor rock as the previous. Then great boulder problem on grey rock! I replaced two bolts at a slightly different spot, but left one of the old ones for aid climbers.

pitch 6: 6c

Amazing climbing with a touch of alpine style. Good pitons.

pitch 7: 7c

Great climbing in typical grey Verdon rock. Vertical climbing on good pockets for the first half, then the wall becomes slabby and the holds very small. Hard on feet.

pitch 8: 7b+

Great start leading up towards another line crossing in from the left. Don’t use the first weird anchor and continue straight up on the new bolt. Clip the sling to avoid rope traction and cross left again toward the other new bolt leading up to the anchor 10 meters above. That has been the only spot where I (and other climbers) has been confused about the line. The original line takes you out left to loose flakes and almost impossible free climb. So I used the logical itinerary which included adding two bolt to the right. Also I had to bolt an anchor which had been missing (maybe a bolt came out in the past).

pitch 9: 7b

Splendid and spicy pitch on pockets in grey rock leading to the belay on a big ledge. 

pitch 10: 7b+

A real tough one to finish the series of 7b+. Hard and slippery rock to start, I replaced two bolts to avoid a bad ground fall to the ledge. Then technical traverse to the left and technical boulder problem at the end.

pitch 11: 7a+

A simple beauty taking you straight up to a belay underneath the roof.

pitch 12: 7a+

It’s easy to skip the previous belay and to make one long pitch by clipping a long sling on the anchor. Big undercling move to reach good crimps on a little stripe. Linking this roof section towards the good belay station 15 meters above. Maybe harder for the second climber.

From the last belay it’s a 3+ bush scrambling to the top. Good bolt at the end.

My body is sore. Everything hurts. I keep repositioning my feet, shoulders, hips and elbows in bed to get comfortable. Images of the last days are turning non-stop in my brain. But I feel excited, and that nourishes those weird sensations coursing through my body. Maybe it’s because I pushed hard over the last few days…

Lynn and I have spent a lot of time over the last 3 weeks in the Valley and on the Nose, working on the route for an eventual free send at the end of our 4-week trip. On October 30, we decided to give it a go.

We woke up at 5am, had a little food and some coffee, and drove silently to the base of El Cap.  We were quiet and focused, in spite of the film crew surrounding us. Bryan Liptzin, who has been following Lynn and I over the last few months to realize a documentary, brought his family as well as professional cameraman, Jon Glassberg, to film our joint ascent.

We started climbing in the dark. I focused on the texture of the rock illuminated by the light of the headlamp. One movement after the next, almost ignoring the 1000m wall looming above us. Climbing big walls has taught me to enjoy each small step towards the top. If your mind and body drift away from the present moment, the enormity of the thing can overwhelm you and lead to failure.

Lynn and I moved fast. The previous week we had a wonderful training run on the lower part of the route up to Camp 4, which is situated 600m above the ground. That mileage was very helpful for this ascent – Climbing 17 pitches in a day made us very fit, and we had become familiar with the granite and sorted out who is going to lead each pitch.

I love leading. I enjoy being on the sharp end, and it was very important to me to lead all of the harder pitches. Lynn, on the other hand, hates falling and don’t need that exciting feeling anymore at the age of 57. Well, as it turned out, Lynn took the biggest whipper of the entire ascent on pitch 4! Her foot slipped on a traverse, and as the pieces were widely spaced, she cartwheeled across the face, ending up with a bloody knee and sprained finger in the process. From that moment on, it was obvious that it would be up to me to take most of the leads on this ascent.

We climbed all day, passing only one party at Sickle Ledge. It was tiring: those wide cracks are physical, and the hauling is very draining. I was happy to send every single pitch, and we arrived at Camp 4 just before dark. We put up the portaledge in a short time, and while cooking dinner on this fantastic perch, became flooded with joy.

Sitting on a portaledge, half way up El Cap under a sky full of stars is by far one of the coolest things in life to me. I feel like a princess in her tower, and I know that this is what I live for.

Lynn felt so grateful that I asked her to climb that route together a couple of month ago. It took a lot for her to leave home and all of her responsibilities, and to throw herself into big wall climbing again. But she surprised herself cutting loose and feeling free, and has lived this adventure fully.

I felt lucky and a little sad at the same time. This was the last night we would spend together, just the two of us. The next day there would be the film crew with us, rapping in from the top, and after the ascent Lynn wold have to go back to her home. It was the last time we spent alone; sharing stories about life, love and dramas. Those stories you tell to your best friend when you’re at an outstanding place and you feel total confidence and togetherness. We drifted off to sleep, secure on our ledge and in our friendship.

The first thing I saw next morning when I opened my eyes was the Great Roof jutting out right above me. Such a gorgeous and difficult line; following a beautiful crack up to this gigantic roof. A week ago, I wasn’t able to send it, but I was close, and I knew that I could do it this time. During this time with Lynn it has been very important to me show my absolute best, and I felt ready to send that iconic pitch.

We moved fast that morning, and an hour later, I was ready to place gear for warming up. Jon filmed from the belay, and compared to the stressful experience I had filming the ascent in Orbayu, I felt very comfortable this time. My boyfriend who is a guide in France, was assisting Jon and was watching nearby. His presence was calming, and I felt our deep connection.

I felt very good that morning climbing, despite the big day we had before. Spurred on by Lynn’s positive vibes, I climbed like an angel up the 30m to the roof, and relaxed a little before attacking the traverse. I climbed really well under the roof, but I made an error by trying to clip my last piece at the end of the roof. I missed the clip twice and that cost me my send.  A big whipper, followed by some French expressions, were the result. The entire meadow heard my screaming, and I think that some people had the impression that someone had just died on the wall.

Back down at the belay, I was totally calm again and Lynn reminded me that she did not clip one single peace during her send. So I decided to do the same, and on my next try I climbed perfectly. When I’m in sending mode, I’m on fire and in my own little bubble. In those moments that’s the thing that counts to me and I’m 200% focused, only positive thoughts in my head.

A big scream again, but this time at the end of the roof and full of joy! Lynn had some tears in her eyes when I sent. Overall she has been very touched by watching me climbing. Maybe it reminds her of her ascents, or the way she did them.

That moment was by far one of the best to me, and this high I felt was with me for the rest of the ascent. That day we climbed two more pitches to reach Camp 5, which is one of the best spots on El Cap. You can see the entire wall while leaning out of the portagledge, and this evening we had one of the most beautiful sunsets one can imagine.

For breakfast Lynn and I both sent the Glowering spot, a 12d, and an hour later we were at Camp 6 where the Changing Corners starts. I had stopped working on that 14a in our second week because it has simply been to warm this past month, and so my focus has been on the Great Roof. I started to climb without any expectations while the sun started hitting the corners. I stuck the first hard move on the corner easily, and was feeling pretty good. I somehow surprised myself, and it all felt much easier than two weeks ago. I did a quick work on the route to figure out some more links I was missing. I started to feel that with a big portion of magic, I could freeclimb the Nose today. But on my first attempt, the burning sun had heated up the corners, and I felt regret that we had started too late this morning. I failed, tried again, failed and then barely made my way up to the anchor. It was impossible to climb this pitch in the warm sun.

I had a few moments of hesitations: would Lynn agree to spend one or two more days on the wall? Waiting on me for a send? Was I really ready? And would it make sense for me to slow down our celebration of the 25^thanniversary? I put myself in Lynn’s position and I knew that she would be open, cancelling her flight back home and supporting me a few more days.

And then I asked myself if I was ready to deal with that pressure and to deal with this feeling of asking her so much on top of the huge support she has given me over the last month. I closed my eyes and I felt what made sense to me: climbing to the top today and celebrating her and our beautiful ascent on the summit with our friends waiting up there.

By taking that decision and not sending the Changing Corners, I had a real breakdown. The endless power and force I had been full of seemed to slip away. My muscles felt so tired and I had a hard time climbing 5.11.

Lynn at the other hand was blowing it up the higher we got. She felt so comfortable climbing on this route again, her route in some way, and she climbed weightless and totally free. At the belay of the upper headwall pitch, a 12c, I had to force myself to put it all together. Lynn was once more so positive and although I felt beaten, I wanted to give it my all, one last time. Sending that pitch was so hard for me.  But then seeing Lynn climb it in such a fine style made me cry when she reached the belay.

This beautiful emotion overcame me, an emotion that when you see someone simply happy, totally in her element and doing what she loves most in life. Lynn lead the last bit up to the famous tree on the summit and I followed with the bags. The entire crew was there, as the sky turned a million shades of gold, orange and red in the evening light. Lynn took me in her arms and we both cried. Tears full of joy, coming out of our tired bodies.

I can’t remember the last time I cried. But it was stronger than me, this emotion of offering the most beautiful present to my friend Lynn for her 25^thanniversary. This priceless present when you can support someone you love by spending time together on that place, on that wall, on that route.

While writing this story, tears are running down my face, again! Those tears are real, connected to this beautiful human adventure we went through. And no matter how I continue this Nose thing (once my body feels ok again), I already feel like a winner.

At the bottom of my heart I feel honored for the month I spent with Lynn. It has been so incredible, and the climbing was pure fun and enjoyment. I felt great at Lynn’s side – she has this magic that makes her so special. I grew a lot and I think that I gave her a lot as well: my follies, my way of being positive and optimistic, my self irony and my big drive to reach a goal.

Now she has returned to her life, kid and pets in Boulder, and I’m going to do my best to keep up that “Lynn” magic.

“I believe in magic and that I can be magical”, that was Lynn’s answer on our way to Yosemite, when I asked her if she had doubts in our project.

Free climbing the Nose requires even more than that; a huge commitment, core strength, finger power, solid legs, endurance, trad climbing knowledge and then, on top of that, a big dose of magic!

We both started to work on the route almost three weeks ago. In order to make things efficient, we set up a static line that went down to the Changing Corners pitch, and later all the way down to the Great Roof. Those two pitches are by far the key points of the route. Now, the Great Roof seems possible to me, but for Changing Corners I will have to invest much more time. This pitch is one of the most confusing things I’ve ever been on. I somehow figured out all the moves, so I know it’s possible, but that’s it. I can barely link sections and it’s also very condition depending. Patience!

Lynn somehow wanted to free climb the route again (at the age of 57!!!). Over the last 25 years, she had the impression that route only required a good technique, and the smaller you are, the better, especially for Changing Corners. Over the past three weeks, seeing me work on it and trying to climb the route herself, she finally realized how big her performance was 25 years ago. She did not climb that thing because she was small or because of her small fingers. She was simply very, very strong, in every aspect…way ahead of her time.

She realized this several days ago, while we were sitting below the Great Roof in our portaledge on Camp 4. We had pulled up the static lines and made a training session by free climbing from the ground up to Camp 4, which is 600m above the ground. I wanted to free climb the Great Roof next day. I knew that I still needed to work on Changing Corners for an eventual send, but I decided to approach the route in sections.

We talked about how it felt to be up there again, as the warming rays of the sun gave way to the quiet light of the full moon illuminating the wall and the valley below. She was deeply touched and I saw a teardrop running down her face. The next day, she became even more supportive and psyched for me freeing the entire route one day. Lynn told me that she got so much support when she had been working on the route, and that now she wanted to give me the same.

That’s why, in my eyes, she is still to this day, the most respected climber in the world, and she owns it.

I have to say that overall I couldn’t have imagined a better partner for the Nose than her. Lynn is always positive, always laughing and having fun, and there has been no single moment of drama or panic. I do have to say that I feel responsible for logistics and safety on the wall and since she hasn’t been on a big wall in 20 years, oh dear! sometimes I need some patience. At the same time, I feel very honored and respected. She put her life in my hands without doubts, was willing to learn some new big wall techniques, and encouraged me all the time to work hard, although the conditions haven’t been “chocolat”.

To be honest, I never imagined to be able to free that route in the one-month period I have with Lynn, but it’s important to me to try my very best and to free climb as much as possible. That’s what I owe her and it’s not only about me on this project at all; it’s a celebration of Lynn’s incredible first free ascent 25 years ago.

In a few day’s we’re gonna climb the entire route from the ground up, freeing as much as we can. It will be a beautiful way of celebrating: her anniversary with this route, the friendship we have created over the last month and everything life has taught us since.

And after that it’s up to me to continue the work and to take everything she has passed on to me. I’m not going to be Lynn, but she’s the most inspiring person I have climbed with. I felt this magic while being with her on the wall, and after strength, power and lots of practice, that’s definitely the key to success!

Photos: Jan Novak

Je me suis toujours dit que dans ma vie de grimpeuse, j’aimerais bien mettre les doigts dans « Tough Enough » à Madagascar. Ce genre de voies dures me fait rêver mais elles me mettent mal à l’aise aussi car j’ai peur de l’échec. Je n’ai jamais eu le courage d’y aller, mais comme la vie est bien faite, ce printemps l’occasion s’est présentée. J’ai eu l’honneur d’accompagner mon amie Mélissa Le Nevé qui, de son coté, a déjà passé 5 semaines dans la voie l’été dernier.
Avec Mélissa on a une belle et longue amitié, presque comme une histoire d’amour. C’est elle qui m’a assurée et soutenue dans ma première grande voie dans le Verdon « Ultime démence ». C’est elle qui m’a appris une bonne partie du savoir vivre et de la folie française. C’est aussi avec elle que je me fritte le plus souvent car on a toutes les deux des caractères très forts, un élément incontournable pour une voie comme « Tough Enough ».

A notre arrivée bien retardée à Antananarivo (on a mis 28 heures pour décoller avec Air Madagascar alias « Air Peut-Etre » de Paris), je me retrouvais confrontée à une sensation nouvelle. Pour la première fois, je visitais un pays d’Afrique, et de ce fait, me sentais malgré moi étrangère par la seule différence de couleur de peau. Cette nuance marquant inconsciemment une distance entre les locaux et nous m’a tellement fracassée, que j’ai craqué après 10 jours sur place dans la vallée du Tsaranoro.

C’était un après-midi bien chaud à 400m du sol, en plein de milieu de la longueur 9 en 8b+ avec le joli nom Gecko. Les jours précédents j’avais brassé comme une folle et une fatigue profonde s’était installée. Grimper dans une des grandes voies les plus dures au monde fatigue, certes, mais il y a aussi toutes les impressions nouvelles qui semé un grand bordel au fond de moi. Mél, assise au relais sur une sellette en bois, m’avait moulinée depuis le haut pour que je puisse mieux caler cette voie de 50m.

Après notre arrivée à Antananarivo, la capitale, on avait mis une journée de bus pour arriver sur place, accompagnées par Jan Novak qui a vécu deux ans à Madagascar.

Surexcitées et les avec crocs pour grimper, Mél m’a fait découvrir les premiers jours la voie par le bas. J’ai pu aller en tête dans les 6 premières longueurs et j’ai kiffé la sensation de grimper dans une voie avec zéro traces de magnésie et très peu parcourue. Je les ai trouvées très difficiles, mais avec l’habitude de prendre ces petites prises, souvent avec le pouce, et avec une assurance dans la pose des pieds, j’étais assez confiante et pensais qu’elles allaient vite tomber.

Pour pouvoir travailler les 4 dernières, qui sont toutes dans le 8b+, on a fait le tour pour monter au sommet du Karamboni, d’ou on peut descendre tranquillement sur des cordes statiques.
Ces 4 longueurs sont simplement ouf… La première fois quand tu descends dedans, c’est un mur lisse, lisse, lisse… tu te demandes où sont les prises. Heureusement, Mél se rappelait encore bien où  les trouver. Equipées toutes les deux d’une brosse métallique, les sacs à pof remplis de magnésie et plusieurs brosses Faza, on préparait la voie pour qu’elle soit grimpable.

Le style est… atypique et un peu particulier… le bassin collé contre la paroi pour essayer de rester sur ces prises inexistantes, tout en finesse, en équilibre et des chaussons affutés.

Normalement je me débrouille pas mal dans ce genre de voies, mais j’ai rencontré des réelles difficultés et tombais partout. Je me suis tout de suite rendue compte que c’était trop gros et trop dur pour pouvoir faire quoi que ce soit en trois semaines. Je commençai donc à être tendue et je me posais pas mal de questions sur le but du séjour. La frustration qui se déclenche quand on n’arrive pas trop à bouger dans une voie, s’installait de plus en plus.

Et nous voilà à ce fameux pétage de plombs par Nina « Caprice ». Je balançais toutes mes frustrations sur Mélissa, la pauvre. Le fait que je n’arrivais pas à m’exprimer dans la voie comme je l’avais imaginé au début ont provoqué des sentiments étranges, mélangés à la colère que je pouvais ressentir face au comportement de certains touristes occidentaux vis à vis des Malgaches.Des siècles d’esclavage et de racisme ont laissé une marque profonde dans les relations entre les locaux et les visiteurs blancs qui peinent à surmonter leurs préjudices et trouver une attitude juste et d’égal à égal.

Faut dire que l’escalade est quand-même un sport qui nous montre l’image claire de qui l’on est et de ce qui nous travaille au fond de nous. Grimper est comme regarder son ego en face et, oui, parfois ça fait mal. Je me suis rendue compte que toute ma vie j’ai évité d’affronter des voies que je n’étais pas sûre d’enchaîner et que je recherchais la facilité. Je ne sais pas ce que cela veut dire de se lancer dans quelque chose qui ne mènera peut être pas à la croix et j’ai jamais appris à gérer ça. Toutes mes performances ont relativement été acquises et personnellement j’éprouve une grande satisfaction à à aboutir et à clipper des relais.

Mélissa a su vraiment bien réagir. A la place de me rentrer dedans, elle m’a juste laissée faire, vider mon sac et elle m’a regardée avec beaucoup de douceur, contente que je lâche enfin prise.

Quand j’y repense, l’image me fait bien rire : « Mélissa l’Enervée » et « Nina Caprice » perdues au fin fond de Madagascar en train de faire une scène sur une des plus belles parois du monde, à faire fuir les caméléons et lémuriens.

Après ça, on a pu pleinement savourer le reste du séjour. L’escalade je ne la voyais plus du tout comme un échec, bien au contraire ; chaque mètre grimpé, c’était ça de gagner. Petit à petit on a réussi à déchiffrer des longueurs, toujours avec ce beau sens du partage et excitées de faire face à la difficulté. On a réussi à en enchainer quelques-unes, dans d’autres on a été proche et dans certaines on est toujours très loin !

Mettre ses doigts dans cette voie, c’est une rencontre avec soi, sa partenaire de grimpe, mais aussi avec un lieu inconnu : c’est la première fois que je grimpais en Afrique et cette expérience fut loin d’être anodine…

Appréhender cette voie aux 10 longueurs aussi différentes les unes que les autres, c’est un peu comme apprivoiser les rapports humains : c’est un jeu d’équilibre qui s’apprend pas à pas. C’est en fin de compte l’ouverture d’esprit et l’abaissement des barrières mentales qui fait que l’on commence à se sentir bien dans sa peau. C’est accueillir avec humilité et simplicité de nouvelles cultures, de nouvelles histoires humaines. Comme avec la voie dont j’ai appris après un certain temps à accueillir la difficulté, la taille et la complexité, passer du temps là-bas m’a apporté une grande richesse et petit à petit j’ai commencé à trouver ma place.

Après avoir passé trois semaines au camp catta, les Malgaches qui y ont travaillés étaient devenus nos amis. Lors de notre départ ils nous ont dit qu’on les avait touchés par notre attitude et la volonté de partager et de comprendre leur vie, ce que ne font pas forcément les touristes qui souvent ne font que passer et observer à distance.

Aller sur la terre rouge et affronter une des voies la plus dures au monde est un peu comme une belle histoire d’amitié ; cela ne m’étonne pas d’ailleurs de la vivre avec Mél.  Cette histoire est réelle et parfois douloureuse mais elle est si belle aussi ; avec un peu de recul on voit sa richesse et la façon dont elle nous fait vibrer.

En tout cas une chose est sûre et certaine : l’an prochain on retourne approfondir cette amitié avec Tough Enough … 😉

J’aimerais dire merci du fond du cœur à Melissa pour tout ce qu’elle m’apprend dans la vie et ces moments de partage intenses.
Merci Jan d’avoir apporté ta légèreté et grande qualité de vivre le moment présent pleinement et tranquillement.

Merci MSR pour votre super matos et en particulier pour le filtre d’eau qui est vital quand on veut vivre un peu à la brousse.
Merci Petzl et Arcteryx de nous avoir fait confiance sur ce projet et de nous avoir soutenues financièrement. On remet ça l’an prochain !

Merci Hard Bar et Lyofood de nous avoir données de la bonne énergie sur la paroi et au camp avancé au sommet. On s’est régalée avec vos barres, repas et petit déjeuners et ça nous a changé du riz blanc.

Merci Faza Brushes de faire les brosses qui résistent à ce granit super abrasif qui bouffe normalement les brosses en peu de temps (on a utilisé que deux sur dix pendant tout le séjour !)

Tout simplement un grand Merci Madacascar !  On se retrouve l’été prochain !

I’m standing in the sun, surrounded by well-dressed people. It’s my childhood friend’s marriage, in Switzerland. I’m watching people laugh; sip on a glass of tasty wine; kids are playing around. They are running on the green grass, climbing up trees and some are playing in the dirt. I close my eyes and images go through my mind from the place I was only a couple of hours ago.
My mind is switching back and forth between here and Lebanon. I can also see kids playing around there. Their attitude is the same and I realize how true those little human beings are.

As an adult, my last mission in the Middle East has been tough but very enriching. While bringing climbing to Syrian refugees and Lebanese youth affected by the war, together with the non-profit organisation ClimbAID, I realized once more the meaning of freedom and liberty.

I went to Lebanon for the second time as a volunteer to help ClimbAID. A year ago, Beat Baggenstos, the founder of the organisation, had the idea of building a mobile boulder to bring climbing to Syrian refugees and Lebaneseyouth.
Climbing is a powerful activity with plenty of facets. It shapes the values we share and defend: the sense of sharing, trying your best, dealing with fear and the overwhelming feeling of freedom while living fully the present moment.

When I arrived, we had to deal with a broken axle on the Rolling Rock and, resolving a problem in the Middle East is very different than in Switzerland. So the project was somehow hanging in the void and I was getting jittery. Just before I left, I was in great climbing shape from spending many month’s outdoors rock climbing. I think when I’m in that mode, my mind is not very open to seeing what’s going on in the real world. Spending time on rocks, focused on trying one’s hardest is not very relevant and it doesn’t resolve any problem on this planet.

Once the truck fixed and on the road again, we moved towards different refugee camps in the Beqaa valley. The beautiful feeling of bringing my own experiences from rock climbing here took over me.

I like to think that my climbing values are adaptable anywhere on this planet. I supported the team in teaching youth to climb harder, to climb together and to help each other. We encouraged Muslim girls to climb and to move (more or less) freely, to laugh, to cry, to show their vulnerabilities and to overcome them in a beautiful way. Climbing is simply great and I feel very fortunate to have the freedom to go out and share this activity all over the globe.

During one of the climbing sessions on the Rolling Rock, we asked a kid what it meant for him to climb on this colourful truck. He told us that before the war he had been used to climb in the mountains, but now there is no access anymore because of mine fields. And now he’s very happy to be able to climb a bit, even if it’s not in the mountains, because he really loves it.

That’s just one of the many stories that touched me. In those situations, (not far from the minefields) I see myself like in a movie but then I realize that it’s reality and “chicken skin” overcomes me. Honestly, when I’m living those moments, I can’t really explain what’s going on in my heart and head. I simply live them. Later comes the time needed to reflect and analyse.

Maybe these moments at the edge are making me who I am. I’m not reaching out to them, they just happen. I can’t control circumstances, but I can sign this contract with myself to be ready when things take a sharp turn. That’s the same in climbing and maybe that’s why I never panic or lose my mind.

Aside from our sessions on the Rolling Rock, I took time to explore the country and to go climbing in Tannourine, one of Lebanon’s best spot. It always takes time to switch from the Muslim rules (especially concerning clothing) into a Christian place like in Tannourine where you can climb in shorts and tank top. It had been very warm, 26 degrees in the shade, but I climbed pretty well, since it had also been very dry. It was very cool to redpoint Tannourine’s first 8b and to climb some other 8a’s. Lebanon’s climbing community takes the weekend and sometimes some days off during the week to go there. It’s always very enriching to talk with my friends, especially about the refugee situation.

If you think, Lebanon is only a 1/4 as big as Switzerland and has 6 mio people living there. 1/3 of them are refugees, which makes it the country with the highest concentration of refugees in the world.

Looking at those numbers does change the perspective from what the word “tolerance” might mean to us in Europe …. Despite being having so little space to share among so many, people somehow manage to live and work together in Lebanon. This year, ClimbAID’s base was a house in the middle of the Beqaa valley. Somewhere in Chtoura, surrounded by typical concrete buildings, colourful agriculture fields and by many refugee camps. Refugees live in sorts of huts, made of wood and tarp. Some seems quite sturdy, others much less so. Syrians are often employed by the local landowners. They work all day in the fields. But life somehow brings everyone together. As foreigner, you would not be able to tell apart who is who among the kids. They all love climbing, failing, getting better, and topping out. In the end, we’re all the same.

I am very thankful to Beat from ClimbAID who pushed me out of my comfort zone from time to time. To all the volunteers as well, who believe in the project and throw themselves in, heart and soul. I feel grateful to get to meet so many people who are willing to share their own experience of climbing with others. I also want to thank my partners and sponsors who support me on projects like Climb AID and give me the opportunity of becoming a better person.

Thank’s Budget rent a car for offering a nice car to the team for that years trip!

Here is a link with a 15% discount for your next car rental by entering that promo code: L820200

I am back from five weeks in Leonidio. A rich and enlightening stay! The climbing itself is quite a treat for any style and grade level. But with sea all around, the landscapes alone are worth the trip.

I went all out in these majestic cliffs. During the winter I had felt that 2018 would be a year for climbing for me. Just climbing. So I put the cold months to good use and headed into the season in good shape. The investment is paying off. It was a real pleasure to hit the cliffs and feel the good climbing sensations coming back. Leonidio does have a lot of routes that suit my style but there is nothing quite like feeling strong and balanced. My spirit is free, my health impeccable, and my motivation for sending hard routes at its peak.

I don’t think I have ever on-sighted as many routes in the 8s in so little time before. And my legs are surely paying the price in bruises and scabs!!

I was based in Leonidio but moved quite a bit around. I went to a mythical marble cliff near Athens (both figuratively and literally…there is a temple there!). I also went down to Kyparissi a few times to check out this chill out little Ceuze.

Some partying and lending a hand to help build a new climbing shop made for quite a complete life. Everyday, the same ritual: oranges, lemons, and pomelos freshly harvested, and a bath in the cool turquoise waters. A pure life in a pristine place.

But beyond climbing, I would also like to share something that often struck me during my stay. In today’s world, it feels that we are told so often how to measure out success in life. One should have goals, study, get a job, make a good living to support a family and set a safer future. One should consume all sorts of things to take good care of oneself and the look of others.

I have always felt that I could not fit there and that my life could not fit in any of that. I never really think too hard where I would end or if my life would be called successful. Climbing led the way, from my first motion until today. I just know that I am healthy, passionate, and these are the two most precious things life gave me.

In the climbing community, I am used to hang out with people who often share some of my perspective. We have found happiness in a few simple things, like pushing our physical and mental limits. Buying a new car never quite makes the picture.

In Leonidio, I was fortunate to meet people from all walks of life who are there because they don’t fit. Or because the measures of success on the continent don’t suit them. I met people who had chosen to live in caves, to leave everything and come back to something of a natural state. Many had left overwhelmed by the pressure from their bosses, parents of peers.

Greece is often known for its somewhat chaotic organization, and of course as a European country in deep economic crisis. But it seems to me that the Greeks are not less happy in fact. Maybe because they heart is full of kindness and sharing part of common sense. I was very touched by the community of Leonidio.

Climbers or locals, everyone had a very open mind, without much of a judgment for one another. It felt like everyone had room to breath and be himself.

I spent quite some time hanging out with Germans from Berlin and my Austrian friend Bernd Schlögl. We explored the area, opened and cleaned new routes together and pushed each other in our projects. That collective energy is a real boost!

There are 4 ascents I’m proud of:

THE ultimate “Megakante” I climbed on my second go. An 8b line among the finest, above the village of Leonido.

In the Hada sector, I made the first ascent of “The Swarm”. A long and steep new 8b from Bernd, which I helped cleaning and figuring out betas.

Two lines in Elona: “Goliath” the 60m long king line of the sector. I tried that one on-sight and fell only one meter from the chain. I red-pointed that one a couple of days later. And my first 8c in 3 years called “Hanuman”. Such an excellent fight and I have to say that I missed that feeling of overcoming so much!

All in all, I’m very happy about my performances and the way I approached them.
The climbing game is so simple and I am so thankful I can find such happiness in it….;-)

One again, I’ve been travelling for 5 weeks with a rental car from Budget.
Here is a link where you cant get a 15% off by entering this promo code: L820200