Alternative Activities in Rodellar

Alternative Activities in Rodellar:

Christine is sad m'puz she stabbed her thumb wif a big, mean, stinky-pants knife and couldn’t climb for four days… and then sad again m’puz a muscle in her back made a crunchy boo-boo.

I arrived in Rodellar about 1.5 weeks ago now, and was absolutely amazed… amazed by the weather (very un-Mallorcan: not raining), amazed by the climbing (cave after cave of steep, beautiful limestone in an beautiful, idyllic canyon). I was also pleased to check into the Kalandraka Refugio- which, unlike my last place of residence, has bathrooms, running water, electricity (not to be mixed with the running water), beds, and roofs. What’s up. And finally, it was good, as always, to meet the nice, new faces here and see several of the old, familiar faces from trips previous, including Ceuse.

If you haven’t been to Rodellar, know this: it’s like Disney Land for climbers. The deep canyon in which all the crags sit, is a twisty-turny gorge with stacks of luscious orange- and blue-streaked caves of all aspects and sizes. A spring-fed river meanders through the bottom and well-worn foot paths cross it here and there on lilly-pad-like stepping stones. There are caves up high, caves down low. Caves in the sun, caves in the shade. Orange rock, white rock, blue rock, grey rock. Walls with big jugs, and walls with more tufas than you’ve ever seen in your life. Some techy climbs, but heaps and heaps of steep lines. Thousands and thousands of bolts and an often a pleasant breeze. Mild approaches –just enough to get the blood flowing a bit, yet not so much as to prohibit two- and three-crag days. There are arches and climbs going straight up the underbellies of these natural windows. 40-meter routes and 15-meter routes. Basically, paradise.

Especially after Mallorca’s rain (and even after the vertical tech-climbing of Ceuse), I was incredibly ready to soak this up! Mostly excellent weather (shirtless climbing and puffy-jacket belaying), an unending list of new routes, and such physical climbing… Oh my! After the first few days, I was so sore from head-to-toe that it was difficult to walk or even sit properly. Though the routes here are supposed to be softly rated, I found them to be, ehh, ehm, pretty tough, as I was completely unaccustomed to such steepness. But I was soooo ready to become accustomed to it! I could feel fitness soaking into my body every day. I was getting nervous that I might rip my clothes if I accidentally flexed.

And then… four climbing days later: STAB! Without going into the whole story, let’s just say that I managed to stab through the pad of my thumb (entrance and exit holes) with a very sharp knife. So. Understanding that it needed time to heal properly (lest it become a never-ending infection), I took four days off. Ok. Good. It actually healed in enough in this time to climb again. Check.

But then 1.5 climbing days later: CRUNCH! Doing an (apparently strenuous) high-step/gaston move, a muscle in my lower back/ ribs decided to seize up/ pull/ hurt and burn a lot. So. Now I’m waiting for it to tell me whether to stay here and wait it out, or to go home and let it heal. Meanwhile, I’m occupying myself with (gasp!) work and other activities such as blog-writing and hiking… a friend and I walked a few hours to a ghost town (Otin) the other day. I’ve also been hiking back and forth to a PT’s office… but, as things go in Spain, he’s never really around during the times we agreed to meet. But that’s OK.

So, I suppose I’ll know in a few days whether I’ll be able to climb again soon, or whether I should take the next few weeks to get myself back to North America, take care of “life” there, and get back on the road (Southern Utah, Hueco, El Salto). All in all, not bad choices… but I’m really hoping to get to climb more in Rodellar than just 5.5 days.

Bye for now...

Hola Mallorca: probably the stupidest blog title possible.

ANYWAY. MALLORCA IS AN ISLAND IN SPAIN, popular among German urlauber (drunk on board Berlin Air flight # 9414) for its temperate waters and beautiful beaches. It is also famous among climbers round-the-world for its temperate waters, beautiful beaches, and freakingbeautiful, overhanging, seaside limestone cliffs. In recent years, deepwater soloing (or “psychobloc” in European) has become an increasingly popular, yet still exotic, style of rock climbing whereby climbers ascend seaside routes directly over the water, without ropes or any means of protection other than the deep sea below.

Having never properly engaged in psychobloc before, and because of a number of other contributing factors, I decided my next step in this Euro-journey would be Mallorca.

I arrived at Palma Airport (via Nice, Dusseldorf) with Ceuse friends, Alex and Chris, on the night of September 10. Here we were retrieved by a gracious, car-driving friend. I aimed to meet back up with my Australian friend, Chicko… somewhere on the island. According to Chicko,

“from Porto Cristo you can catch a cab to Cala Varques or hitch. About 8 ks out of porto cristo in the dirrrection of cales de Mellorca you will come across a house that looks like a castle (on the left) about 40 mts before the house is a dirt road at the end of the dirt road is a steel gate, through the gate and follow the path. at the beach on the right in the pine trees is me and a smile.”

Luckily, one of Alex’s friends knew what this meant (because I definitely did not), and they dropped me off —right at the steel gate— the next day, after inviting me to crash with them for a night and (thank you!) taking me to the grocery store for food and water.

I wielded all of my unwieldy crap the 10 minutes down this aforementioned path to a beachside campsite in two trips, spoke immediately with someone in the campsite who knew Chicko, and found him playing in the ocean shortly thereafter.

The next few days we spent in sunny paradise, deepwater soloing and generally absorbing the Spanish maritime paradise. A contributing factor to the utopian aura of the place is definitely the campsite –we sleep in a breezy pine forest immediately above a turquoise cove and white sand beach. Also, the majority population of this campsite is… (surprise) Spanish!

This (being a minority tourist among Spanish locals) has been a genuine treat, as, unlike my last time in Spain (El Chorro, December 2008), I’ve actually been immersed in the language, culture (albeit in the form of dirtbagging on the beach), and the sharing of food, jokes, etc. I've evenbeen getting Spanish lessons in earnest from a Uruguayan here. With paper and pens and an English-Spanish dictionary.

All temperate waters, sunshine, and tropical beaches aside, the last few days have been, eh… a bit tryingbecause, though the area is beautiful and, though it statistically never rains here in the summer, it has, in fact, been raining hard… off and on for the last four days. Which is less-than-ideal on a steeply-sloping campsite that easily becomes a river of mud and pine needles, soggy food bits and other rubbish. An aging tent (with large, new hole in the rain fly), and sub-tent river have severely dampened nearly all of my belongings, and the persistent precipitation has not allowed for any drying of these… Needless to say, everyone else in camp is suffering under the same dampness and, though solidarity is high, morale is generally low.

On the bright side: we have enjoyed a staple of grace from newly-made, local friends and acquaintances. A shower one day and a dry couch one night have made a world of difference in the otherwise clammy mud bog of the last four days.

Climbing-wise: I’m not there yet. I’ve had a high rate of painful falls into the water. Odd belly- and face-flops, thigh slaps, wind-knocked-out-of-me’s, sinus blasts, etc, etc… are making it very difficult for me to properly wrap my brain around this particular style of climbing... needless to say, four days of off-and-on rain haven’t eased this transition for a number of factors (wet rocks, chilly weather, and sometimes simply unclimbable conditions). But I’m convinced that I’m just slow in getting used to it. So… whenever the weather clears, I’ll keep chipping away at this problem. Given deepwater soloing’s popularity, it can’t be all that bad. I think the responsibility is with me and that I’m just an awkwardly-falling, high-surface-area wuss.

But anyway. I definitely can’t complain, though I do look forward to hitting my stride again with climbing (in terms of mentality and volume), and hope I can get some of it done soon.

Next stop: Rodellar!

September 4, 2009: 11 Days in Geneva and back to Ceuse

Sorry if this is boring.

For about a month now, I’ve been limping along with a latent wrist injury. Well. Really, I’ve had this problem off and on for… seven years. It goes like this: sometimes when I use an open-handed hold/ sloper, my wrist does a fancy little fake-dislocation thing. Though my hand doesn’t change grip, and my arm may not change position, the wrist itself suddenly just drops out or “fails”. That is, though I don’t relax, strain, or flex, the entire complex shifts and lengthens. Essentially, it’s as if the wrist dislocates. Once it’s done this, there is no way to muscularly reduce it; the only way to “fix” it is to let go and allow itself to correct.

Normally this is OK; it’s a bit uncomfortable, but doesn’t really hurt. Especially if it only happens once, and I don’t repeat the offending move. But once it’s happened, the wrist is always a bit weaker and prone to repeating the subluxation. Still though, if I’m even somewhat cautious, it’s usually a'ight and I can continue climbing.

However, about a month ago, I experienced a severe, acute occurrence of this injury. Without warning, my left wrist failed and it hurt.It hurt a lot and immediately made me question whether I would be able to climb much at all in the following weeks (and months).

Luckily, the next night I spoke with a doctor in camp who is familiar with this exact injury. He gave me a fantastic tape job that, in fac,t supported the wrist wonderfully. I eased back into climbing and found that, with this slick, new tape job, I was essentially able to use the wrist at full-function. Bam! Wrist power! Even with discretion on open-handed holds. And it didn’t even seem to be doing the wrist any harm; rather it seemed to be healing while I was climbing…

Fast forward a few weeks. And then put Christine on an overhanging route with a crux. Though neither the route, nor the crux, are that hard, my method for climbing the crux involved a two-finger, one-pad, undercling pocket. With the left arm. It was better balanced that way, you know?

Well. I don’t know who I think I am –or more precisely: when I forgot my predisposition to injuries– but I, of course, tried this route, wrist and all, and voila! I tore or strained something in my palm.

Oh Crap.

I tried to belay: Pain. I tried to pick up a water bottle: Pain. I got dressed in the morning: Pain!

Crap.

Just as this happened, two friends of mine were moving to leave Ceuse (one because of injury), so I decided to get a clue and take a ride to Geneva, where I would be able to stay in a friend’s apartment and recover. And reflect on my real ambitions on this trip, my attitude toward climbing, and my reasons for staying in Europe for the fall. Because, to be honest, flat affect, self-doubt, and buyer’s remorse (regarding my decision to not return to the US) had been getting me down just as much in the days leading up to my hand injury as my wrist injury itself. Furthermore, given possibly seriousness of the injury, I needed to take a few days to gauge my pain and mobility to determine whether I would stay in Europe for the fall –or whether I would just head back to Utah and do some book research. (But… even freaking typing hurt!)

Anyway.

Fast forward a few days. Reading, running, situps, etc, etc… Ibuprofen. Voltaren. Ice. Ice. Ice. Working, internet, showers, sightseeing, swimming… Geneva! Old Town, cafés, cobblestones, parks, barbecues, music. Reading, reading, reading, art, writing, writing, writing. Internet. A real treat. And then…

Pushups! Pullups? Yes! Pullups!

I was so glad to be able to painlessly bear weight on my hand. And only after about five days of rest! Not only did this feel OK, but it also seemed to help loosen up the injury and make it feel better. This told me that the injury was probably just a damaged sheath in my palm that bundles the tendons of my middle- and index fingers together. (Anatomy?) So I decided to return to Ceuse.

As of now, I’m taking it pretty easy/careful… only am doing routes that don’t strain the hand too much (as it still feels a bit vulnerable and prone to being, ehm, crunchy). I’m also taping the two fingers together, but so far, I think I’ll be able to climb through it... And that said, it seems I'm healing and have even been able to pull kinda hard (for me) on it, and it's not getting worse. Woo hoo!

Ok.

I'm off to Mallorca, Spain tomorrow... Bye Ceuse!

End of Ceuse, Part I

BIG CHANGES FOR BALAZY-POO.

PREPARING TO DIVE INTO THE DEPTHS OF THE FIREY VERDON GORGE, JULY
SUFFERING THE CONSEQUENCES OF DIVING INTO THE DEPTHS OF THE FIREY VERDON GORGE, JULY

SKYDIVING WITH KEVIN
SAID AND STEVE

As the summer’s been rolling by, I’ve been undergoing a pretty major metamorphosis. Most normal-lifey/ high-ambitiony  people might call it a “degeneration”. But just a few days ago, I decided that I would not return to Utah this fall; instead I will say to travel, climb, and write (wait, work?) full-time.

Despite the fact that I’ve been in near paradise for the last six weeks, I’ve been processing all kinds of introspection –brought to me by many facets of Céüse life: the hike to and from the cliff (nearly an hour up if you take it nice ‘n’ slow), the intensity of the climbing… and to an extent, periods of relative loneliness –though I’ve been surrounded by people the entire time, it’s been a really transitive crowd of acquaintances and new friends. All in all, good times, though, bra. 

A few days ago, I decided to not return to Utah in the fall as I had previously planned. Though I’d always intended to go back at the end of August with my round-trip plane ticket, it struck me on the hike down from the crag that I wouldn’t be returning home. 

A number of logistical factors, I realized, have aligned to facilitate this prospect and, despite the fact that I will forsake many figments of my Utah: Fall ’09 life by not returning (work, weddings, fall season at Indian Creek, Zion, Yosemite), the opportunity to stay in Europe most certainly outweighs the details I sacrifice by not boarding my August 31^st Air India flight #127 FRA > ORD. 

That said, I am attempting to experience a paradigm shift into vagabondness. It has to do with simple logistics like pace of climbing during the day and pace of climbing across a month. It is a mindset shift from Woo-hoo-fun! Land to Woah-this-is-going-to-be-my-life? Land. which is all good, but I feel like I'm the subject of my own experiment. I seem to like to stick myself into new and bizarre situations without much preparation.

So far, though, I must say the summer as a whole has been great, trials and lulls included. I feel that, though Céüse is a soul-crunching gravity knob, it’s facilitated my near physical recovery from last winter’s penalizing life changes and, even though I don’t feel necessarily in “good shape”, I now feel that I’ve returned to a normal baseline of climbing fitness. (Though I definitely realize I will need more patience with this recuperation that I might have a few years ago.) 

Most of my time in July and August have been in Céüse, but I’ve also gotten to climb a few days in Orpierre and one hot-as-Hell day in Verdon Gorge. I even learned that just 13 km down the road from Céüse is Europe’s largest skydiving center. So I jumped out of a plane. What’s up. Also, my friend, Tye and I hiked to the top of Ceuse via the via feratta. Which was illegal. What’s up. 

Ceuse

CEUSE IS STILL PARADISE. For the first time in years,  I feel like I'm finally getting the chance to get in proper climbing shape... Each day I feel more and more fit -which leads me to believe that I still have a lot of room to improve before I plateau. In addition to the physical gains, I'm also enjoying a good head. I think all of the trad climbing of the recent years, the less-than-ideal conditions on trips all winter and spring, and all of the varied rock I've been on recently have all contributed to strengthening my mental game in climbing-- and now that my body is finally getting the chance to gain fitness (through regular, uninterrupted climbing) for the first time in YEARS, I'm finally able to take advantage of the mental improvements I've been accumulating. 

So. I'm continuing to climb lots of volume here -but am also starting to send routes more regularly -flash and onsite as well as 2nd try. I've also got a project that's heavy in the techy/ power-endurance department- and I've made huge improvements on that. The holds feel like they grow 30 percent each of the two days I've tried it since the initial burn. 

As for the social scene, there's been a major changing of the guard recently. Many of the original crew are long-gone and others are preparing to leave. The camping is getting quite crowded (so, too, are the cliffs)- but it's OK. I've moved into a caravan- so I now have a power source and desk for writing (yes!) and a stove for cooking (yes!)... for only 2 Euro/ night more than camping. 

Anyway. I think the next week will be a major transition phase around camp. Lots of people on their way out and an inevitable replacement by new neighbors. It's been great meeting all of these people and making genuine, life-long connections with a truly international crew.

More later! Peace out from the McDonald's (free wifi zone) in Gap.

Croatia (Omis), Slovenia (Marja Pec/ Osp), (Italy, Austria, Munich,)

BROKEN CAMERA... SO INSTEAD, 1,000 WORDS.

Well, It's been a bit of a haul.

Spent a few more days chasing good weather in Croatia. Had a few more days of climbing in hot/ off-and-on rain inCroatia with the crew. The rain increased, though, and Nathan, Cheri, and I rented a car and got outta Croatia en route to Munich via Slovenia, Italy, and Austria.

We made a brief stopover in Osp, Slovenia. Not surprisingly, it was super hot with afternoon rain- but nonetheless we decided to brave the weather and head up to the crag of Misja Pec (photo in the last blog post, below). Despite rain, it was a great climbing afternoon- and we got in a really quick 6 or 7 pitches.

After Misja Pec, we traveled by car through Slovenia and Austria- both extremely mountainous and beutiuful, and then into Munich where they were to catch a plane home. I embarked on a long, solo public transportation/ pedestrian journey to Frankenjura... In Munich alone, I caught the bus, the "S bahn", the "U bahn", and "the train" to Nuernberg where I used my "legs" to walk accross town to the Hostel. After a night in a youth hostel, I walked to a train station and caught a series of trains and buses to Frankenjura.

I arrived in Untertrubach, location of the famous "Oma" (Granny) Eichler, owner of the climber campground Gasthof Eichler (www.gasthof-eichler.de). Martha is a splendid lady who kindly spoke with clearly-articulated German, that I could understand her and reply using my 8-years-expired German language skills. I was debriefed on where, how, etc... of the camping setup there and went about putting up my tent. Within ten minutes, Martha's son, Hannes, came
and offered me a ride to the nearest village so that I could stock up on provisions at the supermarket.

As has been the case, seemingly, with everywere I've travelled this spring (Red River Gorge, Spain, whatever), this was the wettest conditions many of the locals have ever seen-- and rocks that typically are dry due to their overhanging nature were utterly soaked through... So we climbed wet rocks.

Though the weather never really cleared, it definitely improved and we climbed another two days, took a rest day, and then climbed another two(ish) days. The trails and roads in the area were really quite perfect for running- as they were numerous, rolling, and criss-crossing- so the jogging (or as I always do: sprinting at blinding speeds) was excellent.

Unfortunately, I never wrapped my head around the climbing at Frankenjura. It seems that each day I climbed, I got worse at it! I think a number of factors contributed to this: the high heat, very high humidity, seeping rocks, strangely-shaped, finger-strength-intsenive pockets, awkward clipping stances, greased and knobby foot edges (that didn't allow for smearing), and oft high-penalty bolt placements... these all surely contributed to the problems I had... 

but I suppose I felt that the problem I there was that I never figured out how to climb "well"- in other words, I think that the best parts of climbing are figuring out how to best relax in strenuous situations-- with straigh-arm clips, creative body positioning, dropped heels, minimal "gripping", smart bolt clipping (if that means clipping at or above the bolt)-- but I felt the climbing here required over-gripping (which here seemed necessary), poor clipping stances (strenuous), bad foot technique, etc, etc... in other words- I just never figured out how to climb it properly.

So Frankenjura and I shook hands and agreed to disagree. Having never done this before, I left the place without ever really enjoying the climbing (save for one or two routes)-- though I do intend to return at some point. Perhaps in dryer weather.

Meanwhile, I came to the conclusion that this summer is actually a "vacation"- something during which you're supposed to have fun- so I thought I'd just roll on out to Céüse- reportedly among the best sport crags in the world.

Other motivating factors for getting to France sooner included word that good friends from the US would be there from the 4th through the 11th only...

Plus, I wasn't too inclined to stick around and beat myself up in a moldy German forest when a world class crag was just a train ride or three away.
....
Turns out Ceuse is truly a climber's paradise. The camping is plush (free hot showers, plenty of shade trees, relaxed international community), the lifestyle is greast: beautiful approach hike, long mornings in the campsite, and spectacular limestone.

I'm having somewhat of a hard time adjusting to the climbing; it's been so long since I've climbed with this much volume- that is, it's been a long time since I've been injury-free, on vacation, and had good enough weather to sport climb long, hard, sustained routes as much as I want!

That said, I think I'm getting stronger, but at the same time, more run down. So today is the first day of a back-to-back rest day session. Anyway. Without feeling super strong, I've still found that I'm able to climb OK- lots of volume with onsight/ flash climbing, a few second-try routes, and some projcets that are within reach for sure. So that's cool. I'm digging the technical climbing, but also the overhanging power-endurance stuff as well.

Socially, I've been hanging out with a great family/ neighborhood posse. Representatives from Brazil, Canada, Australia, Ireland, Britain, France (no way!), Belgium, etc, etc... Also, a Utah friend, Isaac, a bunch and his crew (Dave Graham, Seth Gilean [from St George], and Jon Cardwell), as well as a bunch of people in my "neighborhood" at camp. My bestest homie here is this australian dude (Chicken) who's been a perfect buddy. I'm in a constant battle of trying not to pee my pants from laughing- and we're really compatible as climbing partners, attitude- and ability-wise.

in other news, the weather's been spectucular. Sun-shiny days back-to-back. But, Ceuse does have super weird weather- one minute you're WAY too hot and the next you're numbing out. It has everything to do with sun vs shade and still vs windy air.

I'm pretty much not in touch at all this summer, but that's OK, I suppose. I do wish I were getting more work done on my books, but at the moment there's not much I can do about that b/c of lack of car, scarce power sources, and remote internet (Gap). Anyway.

Goodbye Croatia; Hello Slovenia (OSP!!), Italy...

This is Misja Pec- just one of the AMAZING crags in Osp. This sucker is BIG (tall and wide), steep, and climbs just like the crags in Rifle, Co. Great! 
Hi Mom-

We were in Croatia, Slovenia, Italy, and Slovenia again today. (Today's new countries for Christine were Slovenia and Italy.) We climbed at a place called Osp- as small, small town in the western corner of Slovenia near the Italian border. It was actually fun, and even though we had just a short time, I was able to send a pretty hard route! Screaming and all! I had to try really, really hard to do it. 

Osp is freaking amazing. It definitely does not have a lifetime of routes, but it has a huge, dense representation of difficult, overhanging limestone sport routes very similar in style to those in Rifle, Colorado. It's definitely a place to come when you're strong- but there's a ton to do! I wish I were staying longer, but think it best to move on to (Frankenjura) Germany, near Nuernberg, where there is likely to be a resident population of climbing bums. 

Sooner or later I'll move on to France, to climb at Ceuse (near Gap). A SLC friend of mine lives in Geneva (Switzerland), and so I'll probably meet up with her in France. (Or, ideally, I'll meet up with her in Geneva and she'll drive me b/c the climbing place in France is way out in the sticks and not accessible by public transport.)

In any case, I'm riding with Nate and Cheri to Munich tomorrow- at which point, I'll probably depart on the high speed train (wee!) to Nuernberg and get ready to get to Frankenjura. I'm excited about that. 

Still trying to lock down plans to meet up with my Swedish friends- but if they're not careful (i.e. they don't get in touch with me soon), I just might make other Swedish friends!

Love,

Chris

Ah, #&*#&*!!! My Camera Broke/ All Single Men Move to Split Immediately!

FIRSTLY, MY CAMERA JUST BROKE. Damn it. This is one in a too-long series of replaced-by-warranty/ repaired-for-a-price-because-the-warranty-recently-expired Canon Powershot cameras. It's annoying each time it happens, but super duper annoying now because:

*I'm in Europe

*I have no mailing address

*The warranty paperwork is in a friend's basement in Salt Lake City, Utah, United freaking States.

What to do? I guess it's just a first-world complaint, but it's still lame.

SECONDLY: If you are a single man, move to Split, Croatia immediately. I should have told you sooner, but basically (and it's confirmed by residents), there's a 5-to-1 female-to-male ratio here. You wouldn't believe what kind of dumpy, lame, wimpy (or mean, or otherwise unattractive-by-way-0f-personality) men are walking around with HOT, well-dressed women! Ladies: stay away! 

 

(I wish I had a visual for you -but at least now you can commiserate in the loss of my camera.)

THIRDLY: The update.

Not a whole lot more to report here in Croatia. We had an aweome time on the Island of Hvar/ at cliff Base. Granted, it's never easy to be away from home- it wears on you not to be able to do do laundry or eat the food you want- either because you can't purchase it, you can't drive anywhere to purchase it, or you can't cook it (no kitchen, no cookware)- but it's a close second to feel welcomed and well-hosted.

Upon leaving the island, we took, like, the craziest cab ride ever! It was a super-classic tourists-get-scared cab ride; we had arranged for a 1pm pick-up so we could make a 2pm ferry. 1:40 rolls around and no cab. 1:45. Suddenly, our cab driver ripped into our meeting place. He literally threw our bags in the back, yelled at us to get in... and off we went, careening wildly across a winding mountain dirt road that traversed precariously over a steep and bare mountain side- We tried to assure the driver that there was no hurry, as there was NO WAY we would be on time for the ferry- but he persisted rocketing accross Hvar. 1:58 and we're still flying. Cutting off other vehicles (including a small Vespa carrying a father/ young son pair- who just laughed; they must be accustomed to the pre-2pm-ferry-cab panic). Then suddenly, the road drops down from the mountain and the marina appears. The driver squeels into the ferry lot- directly into the loading zone, throws us out of the cab, communicates to the ferry staff in Croatian, and we get on the boat just before they pull out of the dock. 

Back in Split, we immediately ran into our old "landlord", Tomi. He works for friends of his that actually own the room where we previously stayed- and they offered us a good rate for lodging in two rooms of theirs -as well as driving service to and from the Split-vicinity crags each day (thereby saving us the cost of car rental). 

We also finally ran into our first real Croatian climbers out in the wild! (We met others at Cliff Base, but that was about as random or exciting as meeting other climbers at the climbing gym.) We met them at the crag near Split- we were climbing at a cave along a massive limestone ridge-top crown. They were excited to recommend good cliffs in the vicinity (to flesh our the skeletal Croatian climbing guidebook)- and invited us to join them for beers that night (an invitation I accepted, naturally). 

Upon picking us up from climbing the first day, our "landlord" took us back to his home and provided us with fresh fruit (mostly grown at his home), wine (that he had made himself), and the company of his family and friends. The next day, We lunched again at our "favorite" restaurant at which our friend, disco-going Jelena, is the hostess. It was great to run into her again- and we made plans to meet up while we're still in Split.

The weather yesterday finally broke- it went from VERY HOT to VERY RAINY! It seems the weather doesn't do anything in moderation. 

So, now we're occupying ourselves with rain-dodging. It's proven somewhat fruitful, but has lead to some interesting and intense barely sheltered thunder 'n' lightning sessions. Anyway. A few more days left in Croatia... then I'm probably up to Frankenjura, Germany... and hopefully -Ceuse, France shortly thereafter.

Croatia: Split to Hvar

I've officially been out of the US now for almost a full week. Two of those were eaten up with travel and time zone leaps- but the other five days have been enough for us to recover from jet lag, explore the town and climbing of Split, meet up with Nathan and Cheri, ride the ferry to the island of Hvar, and climb for a day-and-a-half at Cliff Base (www.cliffbase.com). And take a rest day.

Dean, Heather, and I arrived in Split on the afternoon of June 10; Nathan and Cheri would not arrive in Croatia until the 13th, so we decided to kill a few days in the town proper, sleeping away our jet lag and checking out the local climbing.

Turns out that Split is an awesome town. It's downtown is definitely a bit touristy, but in an abnormally digestible fashion. The architecture of the town is an amalgamation of old and new-- and it's pretty apparent that the town has not seen any kind of tectonic activity in the last 1000 years, looking around at all of the towering and aged stonework. 

At the heart of the town, right on the coast, is an old Palace into, onto, and around which many newer structures have been built. The town is a maze of architectural entropy that has actually turned out to be quite beautiful. Tall and narrow buildings are fitted into, on top of, and around each other at odd angles and impressive heights. 

As for the climbing in Split- we didn't have a car, so were restricted to climbing within walking distance of the town. (We were too jet lagged to try to rally the bus system.) It turns out that the walkable climbing was more than enough. 

The crag we went to is called Marjan. It's on a peninsula west of the downtown, and is just a 30 or 40 minute walk from our "hotel" (or: room in the basement of a random building). Though the climbing looked less-than-stellar, each route we did climbed quite well, and we learned that the ratings here a full-value. 

Climbing seems to be well-accepted here. At the base of the routes were enough names lacquered  to the rock to help orient you, and park-style wooden benches were scattered along the base of the crag. Even given the nearness of the climbing to Split, the beautiful scenery, and the fun climbing, we still never saw another climber. 

On the 13th, Nathan and Cheri arrived and we hustled them through our version of the Split tour. We downloaded to them all that we had learned: that the ice cream wasn't as good as it looks, that pizza-by-the-slice is not as good as it looks, that the palace has a really cool dungeon underneath, and that you walk directly up hill from the popcorn vendor to get to our room. 

The next morning, we hustled to the pier with our crazy amount of luggage- climbing gear, photography gear, dismembered bodies... and rocked the two-hour ferry ride to the Stari Grad on the Island of Hvar. We took a taxi immediately to Cliff Base (www.cliffbase.com), a privately-owned seaside climbing mini-paradise with nearly a hundred routes, a climber hostel, and deep water soloing. 

Miroslav, the owner of Cliff Base, has been there for seven years- and over that time has developed what is a high-quality limestone crag with nearly 100 routes. Though many of the routes are very, very near each other, each still climbs well and seems to take its own line. Most of the routes are long, too, at 30 to 40 meters. An 80 m rope is the recommended length here! But you can get away without one, as most long climbs have a mid-way anchor. 

Cliff Base is located in a miniscule town with one small food market, one restaurant (the local hang, for sure), and one bar. Miroslav knows everyone, and we've been introduced to the big local vintner, the owner of the restaurant (who is also the owner of our apartment, which is located directly above the restaurant)... Turns out that speaking German is super handy here. Equally as many people speak German as English- so between the two languages, we have been able to cover almost all of our interactions with words!

The climbing is great- usually very solid at the grade. Mostly vertical, technical, and highly dependent on trust-of-friction. There is a small selection of slightly steeper climbs- but most of these are juggy, globby, gaping deep-water solos. 

This is my first go with deep-water soloing, and here it's incredibly fun. The water is beautiful- clear, aqua blue (no way!), and and the perfect temperature. 

We've climbed for 1.5 days here at Cliff Base. No projects yet- all onsighting. But soon I'd like to get on something a bit harder. 

We all agree that today is a mandatory rest day. Muscles tired. Skin shot. Shoes and chalkbags wet. (Deep water soloing!)

The nights I've gone out have been really fun. In Split, I went out with our restaurant hostess, a Croatian girl Yelena -we went to a pier of super cool open air, seaside clubs w/ DJs. 

In Hvar, I got to celebrate by eating a lamb roasted for the women's soccer team who won the year-long, island-wide tournament. When the lamb was eaten (in the town's only restaurant), the party moved downstairs (to the town's only bar). Ended up staying late, listening to the Croatians sing their croatian songs as loudly as possible, joked around, and, predictably (but also understandably), fielded questions about American foreign relations. Slapped high-fives to all the familiar faces around town suffering from hangovers the next day. 

Looks like we'll probably stay here for another night or two- then head off to climb at the island of Brac, and then possibly onto mainland Croatia- Possibly to Paclencia?