Recently I received two messages a day apart. Both were from friends climbing in Chulila, Spain. The messages were on the same topic, and with each message my friends told me there was a story going around, and it was a story I had a part in. When they told me what the story was, I responded that as much as I didn't want to be, I was part of the story and that story could probably make good writing, so here goes.
Chulilla is a small village located high up next to a wide, winding canyon cut by the Rio Turia. A winding stream of water flowing at the bottom of a canyon. After the town, the river turns 180 degrees, forming a shape similar to Venezuela's Tepui, a large rocky island in the land between the river's U bends. The reeds at the bottom of the valley sway in the breeze, and small birds flit between the delicate stems. I climbed for many days, often getting thrown off the steep, high walls of yellow and orange limestone. Late in the evening, as the sun sets and you jog along the sandy path that follows the river, you'll lose yourself and imagine being in a South American jungle.
My first trip to Chulilla was with Zylo about 7 years ago. We haven't been together very long, but I remember her repeatedly trying and lobbing at a very nice, long crux of 7a+ called the Serengeti. It was impressive in itself, but was held in place by a second bolt while the path was being removed. Taking the rope out of the quick draw she was pinned to (so I could get a tight grip on the rope) she somehow grabbed the tip of her index finger in the draw and leaned her body behind her. Her fingertips exploded. Her tenacity must have been more impressive as she made her way up, blood pouring from her fingers, and after putting her down, her blood was pouring from her torn end. The next day, she taped and glued her fingers together and gave Serengeti a few more blows. I have to admit, I found it equally impressive and scary!
A few months later, at Christmas, they were still together. (Of course we were still together and she was a little upset, but tough as her nails!) Zylo and I spent a month in Chulilla. It rained for days and I ran. On one of my runs, I left town, jogged past a sewer system (it's a great van, as long as you don't mind weird lumps of human poop), then jumped over one row and jogged to the other side. Canyon leading to the dam and parking lot for hiking. The rain was pouring down, streams were flowing where they normally wouldn't, the sky was dark and overcast and the temperature was closer to north Wales than Valencia. I set off from the dam and jogged along the sandy path towards the suspended footbridge over the narrowest gorge. The path continues along the opposite river bank to the largest and, in my opinion, best-climbed rock section of the oasis area, Chulilla. Of course, no one was climbing, as it was absolutely crazy considering the weather and conditions, but opposite a section of rock called Pared Blanca, as we trampled through the sodden sand, there was one clearly insane person screaming loudly. . Go up one of the 8a's. I stopped to take in the surreal sight. A person climbing a difficult hill in cold weather, with a waterfall pouring down from the top. Large, dark streams of water flowed out on either side of him. imposing. But I'm definitely upset!
A few days later Zylo and I were at a crag called Naranjito, where she climbed an unnamed 7a+ (she claimed it was good, but there were probably no other ascents!) and didn't break a single finger. It was okay. Then we went to Pared Blanca to try a route called Kataplof, which we had clipped a few days before for Christmas. Kataplof is a Pedro Pons climb. Pedro and his partner Nuria own Hostel El Altico in town and both participated in the development of Chulilla. On our first trip, Zylo and I were camping in a hostel, and after attempting a 7c whose name I don't remember, or even where it was, we returned to the hostel, where I told Pedro the route I was taking. I told you about wine. I tried, but there was no holdup. Pedro replied, 'Of course Nick has it and it's the only 7c.' I took myself and cried to Voll Damm!
There are no stars, no chalk, no polish in Kataplof and no entries in the UKC logbook. (Perhaps the lack of gloss and chalk has something to do with the lack of journal entries…ooooh, political!) The fact that it was unknown appealed to me. It also looked gorgeous and long so why not? (Honeypot issues caused by things posted on the internet have always bugged me a little. Maybe I didn't notice 😉).
The rock was dry and there was another group there, which turned out to be someone I knew.
“Hi Josh, how are you?”
Josh Wharton was originally from the East Coast of the United States and was portrayed by Kelly Cordes (also from the United States) as Weapon. Josh has climbed mountains, rock, ice, and mixed all over the world, and he excels at some of the most difficult and daring climbs.
“Okay, thanks Nick.”
I remembered running in the rain a week ago.
“Did you climb here in the rain last week?” I asked.
“Yes, it rained a bit.”
Now I understand.
“no!”
I fell while going to Kataplov. Josh spotted a long, pumping 7c+ to my right (come to think of it, he might have climbed another 8a) and asked if he could do my route. He saw that too. I wasn't going to try any more because I was still excited, but I was inspired by Josh to do it and surprise myself. Not sure what this is, but there may be a lesson to be learned here…
Chulilla is great and all the stories above are from Chulilla, but there are currently no stories going on in Chulilla. The story of the circuit goes back several years. It all started when I was a bridesmaid at a friend's wedding somewhere near the Cotswolds.
My friend is a hiker, and my best friend has a bad habit of climbing the same hills, driving a big 4×4, and wearing a watch that is too big, expensive, and heavy. We had many of the same friends, most of whom attended the wedding. Personally, I think the only reason he asked me to be his best man was because he knew I wouldn't be in town during the speech. And since it was taken away from me, there was a good chance I would go downtown! But I will never include in my best man's speech some of the things I know, sometimes as candidly as possible. Otherwise it may have been a very short marriage and my friend knew this. Yes, for once I was a safe bet. Who would have thought!
In the evening everyone hung out and drank too much. The place was a posh hotel and pub, with dark nooks and crannies and a fireplace. A group of about 15 of us were standing in an alcove. Everyone standing in the circle was close friends. Most of the groups I knew from my winters in Chamonix. I slept on their couches, skied and hiked with them, and we all knew each other well. One of the group was and still is a great friend. In some ways we were quite different, he rarely drank his alcohol, mostly posted pictures of himself on social media, and always seemed to be on some strange form of diet. He was also much fitter than me, and a better climber and skier. We regularly did almost everything together: alpine climbing, skiing, rock climbing, training, running, expedition climbing and Scottish winter climbing. I told him I trained and played with him and he didn't drink 😉).
Of the many days we spent together, I still remember one snowy and sunny day in Chamonix. For the purposes of this story, I'll call her Iggy. This is something that me and an unnamed friend had some spare time to do. So, on a whim, we took the mid-morning mid-morning ski lift to the top station, hustled through the ice tunnel, skied the top section of Valley Blanche, and headed towards the Italian side of the country. A huge ice waterfall. At the top of the icefall we peeled off the Periades glacier. After about 600 meters of zigzag, monotonous switchback, we reached the cliff band. From there we attached crampons to our ski boots, skis to our packs and climbed another 300m up the South Couloir of Breche Puiseux. Eventually you reach Breche Puiseux, a cleft in the rock on a sticky part of the right side (looking up from Leschaux Glacier) of the ridge that runs across the north face of the Grandes Jorasses (this isn't the best explanation, but hopefully it gives you the idea) get). I must admit I was hung over when we arrived in Brechet, I had barely stopped since leaving Midi and the sun was full. The elevation gain was just over 1000 meters. Iggy, who is very fit, was worried that we would miss the last Montenvers train back to the valley, so we increased our pace. I'm also pretty sure I didn't consume any food or water at all!
In fact, when I got there Iggy was already descending along the north side, and we were now 3000m down. After two descents we equipped our skis and skied the Mont Mallet glacier without stopping until we reached the level of the Leschaux Glacier, almost opposite the Leschaux refuge, in the shadow of the gloomy north face of the Grande Jorasses. I only learned to ski when I was 37, and my skiing was a source of great fun for all my friends. I have to admit, my thighs were screaming as I descended. I said to my friend, ‘Leave me alone. 'I don't mind, I'll follow the tracks back to the valley!' But once we reached the floor we continued on to the lower sections of Vallee Blanche and Mer de Glace. There, about four hours after leaving Midi station, we joined the queue for a small cabin. train station. As I walked in line, my arms started moving, my legs started cramping, and I felt like I was going to throw up.
“Here, buddy.”
My friend had the dark chocolate and orange isotonic flavored water. He always took care of me.
Anyway, back to the wedding, we were all standing in an alcove. Iggy rarely drinks, but this time he had a few glasses of red wine, and he found it almost as interesting as my skiing form. He rocked his body as if I had sat in his chair in line to board the train. I don't think he was in a relationship at the time. Although, let's be honest, Iggy's relationships are often fluid, or at least that's how he saw them! There was a woman in that circle who had a history with him, and he sat in her seat, looked up at her, lifted her t-shirt to expose her stomach muscles where her ribs were, and said, ” Needless to say, this got a lot of responses from my friends.
I don't remember what time I went to bed, but I think I was a little more exhausted because it was late. As best man, I was rooming with a friend who had just gotten married, and she inadvertently moved rooms with her wife, so I ended up sharing a room with Iggy. I fell onto the bed and the thought went through my head: 'He better not do it.' I was a little puzzled by this thought, but I was sure he wouldn't be as drunk as I was.
I awoke in the dark and heard sounds I had never heard before until Breche Puiseux. It sounded like Iggy was a little out of breath. He was actually breathing pretty hard!
No, I couldn't believe it. She obviously decided to take Iggy's offer and 'treat herself', so she rolled over her body, pulled the blanket and pillow over her head, shoved her fingers into her ears and started humming her theme. Listen to Postman Pat's music.
I don't know when the progress stopped, but I felt that there were still two people nearby, and for a moment I thought about sitting up, turning on the lamp, and asking if any of them were smoking. In the end I decided not to because Iggy was my friend and he gave me a drink and a piece of chocolate in the queue. , 80% chocolate will only buy you a lot of loyalty. 😉