My recent stay in Lebanon has been a moving experience. A mixture of emotions and mind opening moments about how life could be under different circumstances.

Last year, Beat Martin Baggenstos from the non-profit association “ClimbAID” asked me if I would be interested in supporting a project called “A ROLLING ROCK” dedicated to climbing with vulnerable youth in Lebanon, in particular Syrian refugees. Hearing his invitation and seeing the opportunity to help develop the sport in the country, I jumped immediately on board.

In 2014, I had made a similar experience in Israel and Palestine, climbing in a humanitarian hotspot and meeting people dealing with difficult situations and tensions on a daily basis. I came home totally “boulversée” and started questioning myself a lot.

Clearly, we climb for different reasons and it’s important to us. For me climbing has this magical power to help us disconnect and live fully in the present.

But does climbing help resolve wars or conflicts? Does it help poor or ill people?

At first glance, the answer would be no, but I started to believe that we can contribute to overcoming great and important challenges by sharing what climbing teaches us.

And so two weeks ago, I left for Beirut alone, with the beautiful excitement of not having a clue of what will come and what you are going to experience. I can’t really explain what I was expecting from this week in Lebanon, which has the highest concentration of refugees per capita in the world. 1 out of 3 is a refugee.

I rented a car at 3 am in the capital, Beat picked me up and after a one-hour drive joined the three other team members from ClimbAID in Zahlé, Central Beqaa. After a short night, we got ready for our first boulder session in a small refugee settlement in Bar Elias.

I was very excited to see A ROLLING ROCK with my own eyes, after such a long period of fundraising, construction and shipping. The truck is a real eye-catcher and well-designed for some real climbing.

I have to admit that on the first day, I got teary eyes from time to time. I felt overwhelmed by the place, the authenticity of the people, the traditions, the food, the smell, the chaos on the roads and market places, and of course by the tough reality of the war in Syria, less than 20 kilometres away.

The session we did that day was apparently one of the best ClimbAID had so far. It was certainly due to the small size of the camp, which consisted of 4 large families.

We made separate age groups because climbing with kids is not the same as with teenagers. I quickly learned that the participants need a lot of supervision, because the excitement and energy is so high that everything can become very chaotic very fast.

ClimbAID’s goal is not just to keep the participants busy for a little while or to play around. They follow a clear set of goals, which is to stimulate the psycho-social development from age 12 onwards, to show them the spirit of climbing and how it shapes our life. In climbing, we learn how to work together, to push each other, and ourselves. We learn that we are in fact often dealing with the same problems, and that there much to learn from each other’s experiences. We put all our energy in the present moment and live the amazing feeling that we all experience when we overcome our fears.

My open and personable character helped a lot. Even if I don’t speak Arabic, I had what felt like very spontaneous connections regardless of gender or age. When I climb, my body speaks a language that everybody understands and I was able to motivate young women to climb, something that cannot be taken for granted in this cultural context.

For the next three days, we left the Beqaa valley and went up to the mountains for some excellent rock climbing in Tannourine. On the way there, we experienced the vast and dazzling cultural diversity of Lebanon. We passed charming Maronite Christian and Druse villages in the mountains, and in North Beqaa saw the celebrations for Ashura, an important Shia Muslim holiday. At all times – obviously perceived as a tourist while driving a mini with pink sunglasses – I felt safe and was enchanted by the hospitality of the Lebanese people.

Tannourine offers everything that a rock climber is looking for. An outstanding place with very high rock quality and so much potential! It was very refreshing to hang out and to work on hard routes with the friendly and hard climbing Lebanese crew. I was very interested to hear their point of view on the situation in their country and of course I wanted to know their point of view on the fact that 1/3 of the population is Syrian or Palestinian refugee.

With pumped arms, we enjoyed together a simple and delicious Lebanese dinner and then went wild camping between fig trees. The second day was even better on a slightly higher sector: a beautiful overhanging orange limestone, with perfect and solid holds, called Shawarma Cave.

Then we left for the coast where we jumped from cliffs into the turquoise green water, did some sightseeing in the impressive city of Tripoli and enjoyed once more the Lebanese guest culture with its amazing food.

Back in Beqaa, we had a sharp reminder of reality. We wanted to hold a climbing session in another refugee settlement, but had to cancel it because we couldn’t guarantee a safe session. It was too chaotic, kids were jumping on the truck, some fighting with sticks. These kids have so much energy that it is sometimes challenging to control and channel it – especially, when after a long week of waiting ClimbAID’s colourful A ROLLING ROCK returns.

On the way back, we stopped to buy fruits and veggies in a small market and Beat started to chat with the shop assistant, a well-educated Syrian man. With tears in his eyes, he told us that there is nothing left in his country, that everything has been destroyed. His and his family’s story touched us deeply. Despite the destruction, his only wish is to go back home.

In those moments, you realize how desperate and sad the life of refugees must be. You feel how disconnected they are and how lucky we can feel about having a safe home to consider as ours.

Once more, I realised how privileged I am and how lucky I can feel to have the life I have.

We all have our own history, problems and sorrows to deal with. But stepping out of my comfort zone and joining the ClimbAID team for one week put my own problems into perspective. Sharing the values that I experience through climbing, surpassing myself in situations I’m not necessarily very comfortable with, is a privilege. I love spreading the positive energy that climbing gives to me and hope that through ClimbAID’s project in Lebanon, A ROLLING ROCK, the teens and kids in the Beqaa valley can experience a bit of the same.

With A ROLLING ROCK, ClimbAID wants to bring colour, movement, and joy to vulnerable youth around the Beqaa for many months ahead. Please consider donating to their endeavour via:

Wire transfer: Postfinance / CH02 0900 0000 6172 4147 1 / ClimbAID, Neugasse 85, 8005 Zurich

PayPal / Stripe: Donations@ClimbAID.org

A big thank’s to the Climb AID team for hosting me with arms wide open, to Jan Bakker for the climbing pics, to Scarpa for their great spirit by offering more then 40 pairs of climbing shoes for the project, to Budget car rental for offering cars where ever I need them (by clicking on that link, you can enter this promo code L820200 and benefit from a 15% discount on your next car rental), to Espace vertical for offering climbing hold for the boulder and to all the donaters for supporting the project!

Climbing in the mountains is an interesting thing. It’s like a mirror to yourself and you can’t hide real emotions. That makes you feel alive.

This spring I hurt my ankle and when I was able to walk again, the only desire I had was to move in the mountains. I started a progressive rehab on my weak ankle and leg and the best option was to walk and climb in mountaineering shoes. That’s what I did.
Chamonix is an incredible playground for people like me. It’s so exciting to go climb on its perfect granite, surrounded by vast glaciers, seracs and crevasses, at 4’000m.

I made the best of my injury and climbed many of the classics I always wanted to do. From very easy ridge climbing to more solid crack climbs. Most of them are a combination of a beautiful approach, an outstanding bivi and a outstanding climb. The ones I would definitely recommend are  « Fidel Fiasco » at Blaitière, « la Reprise » at Flammes de Pierre, and « Sale Athée » at the Moine.

It was very interesting to see how different my climbing was after my little crack climbing internship in Indian Creek. I’m a total jam addict now and I can move freely in splitters.

One route which really showed the progress is « Madalton » at the South Face of Aiguille du midi, a perfectly horizontal 6-meter long roof crack. I tried it last summer and I got my ass thoroughly kicked! And this time I climbed smoothly and almost effortlessly trough the big 7b+ roof. Such a great feeling to feel the improvement!

We all have to admit that this summer hasn’t been the best for extreme alpine or mixed climbing. The Mont Blanc massif has been severely affected by the big heat waves in June and the permafrost started to get hit early this year. Lots of rock falls, accidents in classic routes where entire belay stations came off. Not really a year to go push hard at the edge. I spent lots of time observing the « Pilier d’Angle » where the route « Divine Providence » is. The enormous seracs under which we crossed last year with Benoit were falling down at a dramatic rate. Lucky for us that got on it last year.

Back to rock climbing. My good friend, Arnaud Petit, asked me earlier this summer if I would be on board to check out a big overhang on the Grand Capucin. He’d had a line in mind for long while and wanted to see if it could be free-climbed.

Ten days ago, he called me and we went up there with on mission « overhang ». We climbed up to the middle of the wall through an existing route to reach the top of the crucial overhang section. He first sent me down on toprope, equipped with a ton of gear and a drill machine. I spent two and a half hours in the 40m pitch to check out the moves, clean some holds and drill 4 bolts where you can’t protect with gear.

It was so exciting to open that pitch and to see that everything worked! It was the first time that I opened a multipitch route in such an alpine environment.

It was a long day and once back in the valley, our motivation was very high to go back as soon as possible and open the entire line.

GOPR0

A new window opened a few days ago. We packed our stuff in Chamonix for a three-day mission on the wall. Luckily, it had been snowing the days before so we did not have to carry water up the wall. Loaded like Sherpa’s, we left Chamonix with huge smiles on our faces. The approach was hard with 35kg backpacks and I was happy that to have gained solid legs earlier in the season.

We climbed back up to a little ledge in the middle of the wall where we left a bag with our bivi stuff. From there, we traversed into our line and started to open “ground up”. That’s always very exciting! I love picking the line with your partner at the belay station and then leaving for the unknown. I was totally fearless, the commitment was complete and I was totally in my element. Arnaud has 20 years of experience in opening routes, so he taught me a ton and I was happy to take in and put it into practice.

We spent two nights on a very smartly picked bivi ledge. It’s funny to see how simple life is when brought down to essentials. We had good food, fantastic conversations about life, and from time to time the company of people rappelling down.

On the last day, we opened on our way down, which is very different from opening ground up. The fear factor isn’t so high, but here, the pitches were harder overall and so we were more occupied by checking whether this new line is possible or not.

I was very impressed by how steep and straight our line is. It has the character of a steep sport crack line… but in fact, we opened a 12 pitch long route with grades up to 8a, at 3’600 meters, in the middle of the Mont Blanc massif! The name of the route « l’or du temps » (for English speakers, this means the gold of time, but sounds like outside of time) means a lot to us and perfectly captures the disconnect with reality that you will experience up there on the Grand Capucin.

Photos: Julien Nadiras, Mikey Schaefer and Alan Collins
Last year, I made a wonderful trip to Smith Rock. A voyage that brought back the taste for sport climbing and pushed me back into the athlete lifestyle. To Bolt or Not to Be carries an historic aura. It was love at first sight for me. A line of 40 meters in a perfectly smooth and vertical wall. The route has over one hundred moves, all on tiny crimps.

To climb in it, you need both cold temperatures and really hard skin on the tip of your fingers.

There is not one really hard move but foot positioning is very delicate and varied. If you are slightly off, you are out!

I was able to climb in the route for two days last October, without getting anywhere close to putting it all together. But the route put me in a trance! I loved it’s beauty, complexity, and it’s atypical old-school style.

All winter, the line was floating around my mind and I spend quite some time trying to figure out the best way to showcase this demanding project.

So I went back to the U.S. at the end of February, bringing along my good friend and old time working partner Julian Nadiras. Julien has had a hand in all of my video projects. He was with me in the Argentinian desert back when I was a young 22 year old trying to beat the Tuzgle boulders. He documented my success in Silbergeier, and was also there behind me when I faced Orbayu.

This time, he tagged along for this North American trip and we have shared climbing and everyday life in Smith Rocks. He witnesses how climbing shapes my life, he sees how I operate, always in the present: either all out when motivation hits me, or quite unable to move when I am not feeling it. I lead a particular life and it is sometimes hard to understand. You have to be there to get it…and Julien manages to capture it all in pictures.

The day I sent To Bolt or Not to Be, it was exactly freezing temperature. I only had spent one day in the route since our arrival there, but that is all that was needed. My friend Ian Yurdin made for a perfect companion. I had no expectations on that day because it had been snowing when we entered the park. But as soon as the sun came out a little, my hunger for climbing surged. The first try without warm up was a promising one and on the second, I was dancing on it like I have done only a handful of times on a climbing route.

Climbing is a sport like no other. It is much more than a form of exercise. It is an art, a way of moving and a way of live. I am delighted to have the opportunity to express it in a movie to come.

After that successful climb, I felt very motivated to climb a bunch of other routes I had spotted since my arrival. But I was tired. My fingers were sore from all the crimping and deep inside I felt empty and lost somehow. I hadn’t experienced this kind of « big hole » for a while. It had happened after some of my bigger climbs, like Silbergeier for example.

In the end, To bolt has only been a simple sportclimb, but I was able to express myself in the way I wanted and Julien captured that in images, so that I could share what I felt and did with everyone : The perfect run after a long period of physical and mental preparation. The run when it all comes together and you are simply in the present, focused on nothing else than the next hold. The perfect danse in symbiosis with the rock.

To be honest, I’m not quite sure whether my sportclimbing will ever go much further than that. I have the impression that my climb in To Bolt expressed something I was eager to do and that I can now turn the page and focus on other types of climbing. But who knows, I change mind very often!!

Another very beautiful and demanding line I climbed in Smith Rocks is the famous « Viscious fish », a very tricky 13.d.

I also had the opportunity to climb in the sector « Upper Gorge ». A must see if you ever visit Smith Rocks!!! The rock texture is so distinctive and the climbing unique. Lots of stemming and compressing on very smooth and black rock. Perfect if you’re out of skin and ready for a challenge away from crimps.

My feelings about the U.S. are a little mixed up so far. I’m here for 5 weeks and I’m struggling with the cultural differences. It’s very fun to experience when you share it with a friend from Europe, like I did with Julien. But when I’m alone, I often get homesick and miss those little “European” things.

Language-wise, I am slowly starting to speak and understand English for real. Everyday, I’m learning new ways to express myself and ways of talking, second degree meanings etc.

I guess, I just have to admit that this trip is forcing me to have an open mind and I can feel that it will be an important one in hindsight. I feel very fortunate, even if though homesick sometimes.

And now off to more adventures in Indian Creek with my friend and Petzl Team member Said Belhaj. YEAH !

Little Nina in big America, a funny thing to imagine, if you know me in person. I had always been a little critical of the mindset of Americans, even disturbed by some of the huge differences in culture and tradition. My travel last year to Smith Rocks changed that a lot. I realized how bign this country is how diverse people are. My mind started to open more and more and the differences became something I wanted to experience more of.

So I headed out for this 3-months climbing trip mid february, making the best of opportunities ahead. I flew into Reno and from there to South Lake Tahoe. It has been a real winter there, like the onces I had the chanche to live during my childhood in Switzerland. Huge amounts of snow everywhere, big storms rolling in one after the other. These winter are always outstanding to live and to witness .

The storms brought lots of light and deep powder, time for skiing. Although I haven’t been skiing much this last years, it’s a sport that kids in my Swiss valley do from 3 on, and so the connection I have to this incredible feeling of sliding is big. Like all of us out there, I ate lots of powder on the way down with this overwhelming wave of gratefulness. Skiing is so much fun.

From the breathtaking powder descents in Lake Tahoe, my path went down south to Bishop. I’m not the biggest boulderer of the word, but it was important for me to see this outstanding climbing area.

With my friends Sean Haverstock from the U.S. and French legend Julien Nadiras we went for the full outdoor experience in the Sierra. The previous few months of my life before the trip, I wasn’t able to be outside much and I realized how much that impacts my simple feeling of freedom and wellbeeing.

We lived out of a van, feet the cold night of the desert and the violent sunshine during day.

The Buttermilks represented exactely what I’m looking for in climbing. Obvious lines on high boulder balls in the middle of the snow covered eastern Sierras. The climbing is demanding and the holds are very small and sharp.

My goal was to climb as efficiently as possible. I only put in a few tries on a problem. That feeling of giving everything in a flash try felt crazy good !!! I climbed in the flow, directed by my intuition.

It was a great feeling to bewell spotted by Julien and Sean, they are both strong and experienced boulderers. They know the buisness of bouldering.

Bishop is a funny little town, very charming with a good hospital. Injury number one in Bishop are twisted or broken ankles. On our second climbing day I was part of a big accident on a high ball. Sierra Knots, fell down from a 7 meter high bouder problem. Her foot slept and so she felt a little twisted. My first reaction was to catch her. Not a good idea. I hit her right foot and so she landed only on her left leg. The force of the fall was such that she broke her ankle and leg multiple times. It’s been since a while that I havent heard someone yell so loud. She was full of pain. We carried her down to the car on a crashpad and drove straight to the hospital. I felt really bad and responsible for her injury.

That event was a strong experience. I realized yet again how big the commitement is in climbing, even on bouder problem. I know that feeling of commitment from alpine climbing when the moment comes where you’re not allowed to fall anymore. It’s somehow the same. You go because you feel like. There is no room for doubts, negative feelings and you can’t count on your partners anymore. You go for the free soloing with this big feeling of selfcontrol due to your climbing skills and strong mindset.

I spent seven days up in Bittermilks. Some days, I felt a big attraction to high boulder problems and I climbed them. And on some days I was unable to imagine to climb high so I played on problems where it’s allowed to fall.

I finished my trip with plenty of pure problems in my pocket, up to V9 in grade flashing them sometimes but always only in a few tries, a good strategy to save.

The outdoor experince up there made me feel alive ! We were dirty, lived in the cold and somehow it felt rough. But I like that. I don’t wanna be too much of a princess and I need to be outdoors to feel the balance in my body. Well, stil thanks a lot to our friends for the hot shower from time to time … 😉

I visited Sierra in the hospital two days after her accident She did not blame me, she simply owned her commitment to the dangerous game of climbing high balls. Since then, I have learned to be a better spotter and to let it go when you have to. All my best wishes to her for a quick recovery !

And now my trail goes north. Leaving for Smith Rocks now to deal with some tabs I still have there from last year ! Stay tuned.

December 31, 2016. I was really happy for the year to end since I’d had the feeling of being way off the mark on every single one of the last 365 days.

January 4, 2017. I just learned that someone had broken into my flat in Grenoble. I broke down. But just then, I realized that I was getting more familiar with that other Nina, the one that breaks down sometimes.

2016 had not been in fact a year off the mark for me. Quite the opposite! It had been an outstanding journey within the confines of my own self. All the hard times that came gave me an opportunity to meet that family that lives within me.

“Without having to admit being schizophrenic, we can recognize and admit that a whole family lives inside of us, a choir of voice which shares, unbeknown to us, our mental space and body; we learn to manage it, to come back to our “me” without destroying or hurting any member of this inside family. Let’s identify the voices, let’s not identify to them: we are not our mind, our emotions, our sensations, we are further and ahead: we include these voices and we are aware of them.”

Many know Nina Caprez. A climber with a strong personality, who knows what she wants and throws herself full on to get it. It’s a relatable character with an inspiring and positive aura.

In February 2016, the weak Nina showed up in plain sight like never before in my life. I reached out to my friends and family because I was not going to make it out alone. I had lost confidence in my physical abilities. My ailing body took me to place I could have never imagined before. Yet such a frail state also made me connect to a more spiritual world. I felt such close to a higher force surrounding us and to those who have long departed, among them is my father.

As the year unfolded, the wise Nina became a more regular visitor. She had been building herself slowly over the course of the last two or three years. It’s a kinder and softer Nina, for herself and for others. She is much more reflective and has grown a good sense of « je la sens ou je ne la sens pas », some sort of safety device.

In the summer, the call of the mountain came loud and clear. I did not go to check a ticklist but to get exposed in unknown terrain. The power of the mountain helped me reconnect with the world around me and had a great soothing effect on me. Many nights spent under the stars, savoring the present moment and chatting away with my climbing partner…“refaire le monde”. Every minute spent in the mountains was thrill and jubilation all the way to the bottom of my soul. I felt alive!

Towards the end of the year, I was again with the Nina Caprez we know better. It was a great relief and the proof that my body had recovered from the parasite I had caught in February in Turkey. I started hitting harder routes again, thanks also to the many hours spent climbing while weaker. There IS a right time to get your ass kicked!

Let’s go back to the break in for a minute. The weak Nina showed up in these circumstances, but with a bit of pragmatism, I manage to not let the break become an invasion of my intimate world. I let that Nina take the stage. I called my mom, got my crying done, and asked for help from the people around me. After a couple days, the weak Nina had packed her bags and left me in a richer place. I was even happy that perhaps the stolen gear would be like a gift to someone in need.

So I guess I will change the title of this post and make it mine:

“What does not kill you makes you richer”

2016 gave me opportunities to discover many sides of myself, to leave breathing room to all the characters of my interior family, and to be proud of each one of them. Nina Caprez lives with a weak and vulnerable Nina. Another one is wise and well put. Like everyone I guess. Or just maybe with an extra pinch of craziness?;-)

Photos: Sam Bié, Jason Bagby, Sam Challéat, Benoit Merlin, Véronique Hoegger

Yesterday I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. It was one of those days where you rather stay at home then go to the crag. I was feeling upset. I was unable to focus and be gentle with myself. Conditions were so bad, warm and humid as always. For the first time since I arrived in Smith Rocks I climbed like shit. l slipped a lot and got my ass kicked on every single route I tried.

One of the reasons why I choose to spend such a big part of my life outside rock climbing is because there is no bad day at the cliff. Yesterday I didn’t climb as good as I wanted, but all my friends did which was great! They gave it their all, climbed well and focused and some sent their projects.

Since my first day here I feel very good. I’m calm and precise in my climbing and I trust my feet. I feel comfortable with the people surrounding me and I simply appreciate the smart climbing community of Smith Rock and Bend. I haven’t felt this way in a while, especially in sport climbing.

I love Smith Rocks because it reminds me of multipitch climbing. Every single line is so demanding and simply beautiful. To me, it doesn’t matter if I’m climbing a 5.12, 13 or 14, I have to be 100% focused. You need to trust in yourself, your partner and you have to give your best in every single route.

The first ten days I felt like a kid playing in a new playground. I climbed all the eye catching lines, lots of cracks and outstanding aretes like Spank the Monkey on the Monkey Face. Then the time came to try To Bolt or Not to Be.

The first time I climbed the line, it took me two hours to clip the anchor. I wasn’t able to do all the moves, it felt way too hard. Local people told me that To Bolt is one of the most condition dependent routes anywhere. Despite the bad conditions, I tried it two more times. Result, I was unable to hold on to the razor sharp holds. Especially at bolt nine there is a place where I was simply unable to do two moves. I felt to weak to climb the route, but I was blown away by the complexity of the movements, the 200 footholds to remember and of it’s simple beauty. I felt super lucky by the fact that I had the chance to climb on this historical route at least once in my life.

Later on the trip I had some interesting discussions about the different ways of approaching a route. The system teaches us that a good climber should climb hard routes in as few tries possible. Personally I grew up in the mountains, so the more time I spent outside in the mountains climbing in a route, the happier I was. Making our way up to the summit was the main goal, by climbing, aiding, holing or whatever. And if we were to weak, we had to rappel down, logic.

So for me when I go climbing, I start at the bottom and I try to make my way up to the top. Stick clipping up a route or Top roping is not an option. I love the process, the suffering, dealing with my fear and the unknown. I love to discover a route on my own and I also like to give up sometimes and try another day. I don’t want to blame people who top rope because they’re really afraid to fall. I also do not blame people for clipping the first bolt because they don’t want to break their ankle. But I can’t understand why people stick clip or top rope to save time and energy. Why do we want to take so many shortcuts and reduce the experience to a simple climb? Just to make another cross on our tick list and move on to another line to make a quick ascent? I doubt these ascents are the ones that will stay in our memories for forever. Where is the sense of adventure and excitement that makes us feel alive?

Then there was this one day… this day where it was super windy and dry, like it has never been since we arrived. I gave myself one more chance on To Bolt, just to see if conditions had for real a big impact on this route. To be honest, I simply crushed that thing. I danced my way up to famous bolt nine and there I tried to make something but I failed because I simply had no plan for this section. Second try I crushed again and fell off at the same place I did the try before. I did a mini-mini error which cost me my send. Back on the ground I almost cried, not because of the holes in fingertips, but because I was so happy. My friend Charlotte, which was there from the beginning, was stoked. We both had a big smile on our faces and I felt her big compassion. Send or not, this route is definitely worth trying.

Well, at the end all I wanted to say is that topping out a route is a difficult thing when it’s at your very limit. In my opinion, sending is only a little piece of the full experience of climbing. To me, the more this process is combined with adventure, the more I feel a permanent excitement. And living for adventure is always my priority and something we will remember your whole life, even for a 40m piece of rock.

Photos: Jason Bagby