Last day: Sugiton and parting thoughts

(Photo: Yves)

(Photo: Yves)

After the very cold and windy experience on La Grande Candelle, I had one requirement for our last morning of climbing: sun. We had a train to catch back to Paris at 1456 hr, so there was a little bit of anxiety when we found the 30 minute approach expressed in the guidebook was really more like an hour, able-bodied or not. The climbing, views, and setting were one of the most enjoyable/spectacular of my entire trip: a fitting end.

Where we were the previous day, from a different perspective

Where we were the previous day, from a different perspective

Sugiton is a very small calanques, with incredible views of La Grande Candelle. Even more so than yesterday’s climb, the views on the approach, route, and especially the top, filled my heart in ways so beautiful and soaring, that it hurts.

Morning calm

Morning calm

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I cracked up when I learned from Yves what the A.N.P.E., in Secteur A.N.P.E. (where we climbed) was: it was the Agence Nationale pour l’Emploi, or basically unemployment agency.

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How can one ask for a better belay spot (Photo: Yves)

It is pretty incredible to be able to go from a proper sit-down breakfast, doing a route of this quality and in this setting in the morning, boarding the TGV train from Marseilles to Paris (in not too grubby condition!) in the afternoon, be on the Paris subway, and back at the steps of the Eiffel Tower by dinner time.

It is often hard to convey to strangers, and maybe even people closer to me, how much I felt (and sometimes still feel) I lost in my accident including climbing/skiing/mountaineering in remote places, a “simpler” life devoid of day-to-day logistics around my medical issues and more extensive planning around this, being able to pack up in an instant and travel distances to meet someone and embark on an adventure. In spite of various setbacks, I think this winter, this trip has allowed me to reclaim a little, maybe even a lot, of that part of me.

After returning from the IFSC World Championships in Paris in early October, I was admitted to the hospital for complications related to my spinal cord injury. Right after that, the following trips ensued:

  • Mid-late October: ~10 days rock climbing in Utah and City of Rocks, Idaho
  • Mid-November: Climbing in Red Rocks, NV and climbing the hardest trad route since my accident (Cloud Tower, 5.12-) and after nearly dying again in May/June from sepsis
  • 1st half of December: Visiting family in Hong Kong
  • 2nd half of December to late January: A solo road-trip across Canada and the United States to (mainly) ski
  • Late January: Warm weather sojourn in Martinique
  • Late January to mid February: 10 days of skiing and ice-climbing in Chamonix
  • Late February to early March: A little over 10 days rock climbing in the south of France in Les Callanques

Perhaps it was the breathless pace of travel and moving on from one trip to the next, which did not allow me to fully grasp how amazing doing all this is, especially given my accident and disability. Yves said a very nice thing early on in our Callanques trip: I made all this happen. I do not think that is entirely true, because Yves did so much to facilitate and arrange our Chamonix and south of France trips. But, I guess it does take an inner strength, passion, maybe even love of life (even if it is balanced with sadness and darkness) to imagine, plan, and execute the things I did.

My travels need to stop for the time-being, while I deal with practical things like work and making a living. For a number of reasons, there is sadness. But maybe, in spite of physical and emotional setbacks, the last 5 months have taught me that more wonderful things can and will await for me to seize.

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(Photo: Yves)

Soaring heart after La Grande Candelle

Morning light

Morning light on the approach to the base of the route (La Grande Candelle on the left, Morgiou on the right)

My heart was soaring after our climb on Secteur du Temple up to La Grande Candelle. Again, very cold, windy conditions made for no other climbers in sight. The views on the approach to the climb continued to make me feel both so lucky to be able to experience places like this, and also sadness that I do not live closer and/or have more time to climb here more.

Continued awe of my surroundings on the approach in

Continued awe of my surroundings on the approach in

Not being able to feel my fingers for the first few pitches made things a bit challenging.

Cold. (Photo: Yves)

Cold. (Photo: Yves)

Eager to get into some sun (Photo: Yves)

Eager to get into some sun (Photo: Yves)

We also got off-route, and put up some kind of variation that made for some spicy, harder, adventure climbing, which I realize feeds my soul in ways other kinds of climbing fail to. Even after I started climbing again after my accident, I never thought that I would be doing this sort of climbing ever again: very exposed, airy, super run-out, leader cannot afford to fall-kind of climbing. Being on lead the entire time was definitely a little taxing, mentally and physically, in retrospect. But in the moment, I found myself very comfortable in this zone, and taking on an “I have a job to do to get us out of here safely” kind of attitude. Yves’ extensive military experience lets us relate a bit on things like this.

The views, the views!

The views, the views!

The last few pitches, where we were off-route, reminded me quite a bit of the high alpine routes in the Sierra Nevadas, even if the former is limestone and the latter is granite. Both are similar in the wind, cold, heights, and exposure; and in both, you have to be careful of loose rock, be extremely focused and precise in mind and movement. It was incredible.

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(Photo: Yves)

Our original plan had been to climb the 16 pitches to the top of La Grande Candelle. However, because it had already been so cold and windy on the first 9 pitches on Le Temple, and we knew it would be even windier and colder on the ridge the rest of the way up, we elected to exit the route at this point. Nevertheless, I was not disappointed to finish our climb and find the reverse approach in the daylight; sun, soul and heart singing from some incredible pitches.

The ridge line we elected not to get on because of the cold and wind

The ridge line we elected not to get on because of the cold and wind

Scrambling back down to get onto the main trail again

Scrambling back down to get onto the main trail again

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A parting look back

En Vau – Les Américains and a nasty surprise

We headed to another and, again, very different, calanques on the 28th Feb. And again, there were no other climbers in sight, being well in the off-season (February is considered too cold and windy), and on an overcast, bordering-on-rain (we were caught in the downpour but, fortunately, near the end of the reverse approach) day.

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The calanque is quite different in character to Sugiton and Morgiou because it is narrower, and the overcast day made for a very different atmosphere and feel. The hour+ approach down/uphill was fine for me, especially since Yves was carrying both ropes, I have a tank of a right leg, and the road/trail being in good condition.

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You can see how much narrower this calanque is

(Photo: Yves)

(Photo: Yves)

I was quite excited to be climbing on the Les Américains secteur, where Gary Hemming and Royal Robbins had put up a route. Due to time-constraints, we elected to run up La Révolution (6a) (with me accidentally doing the first pitch of La Si-ray, instead).

In slimming navy blue (Photo: Yves)

I feel like I am dressed more like a cyclist than a climber here (Photo: Yves)

I like the picture below because I can recall what I was thinking in that moment: and that was how amazing, how incredible the fact I was standing in that spot overlooking the azure blue waters, even alive, let alone having gone from skiing, ice-climbing, rock-climbing in the space of less than 10 days.

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(Photo: Yves)

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Compression moves are a common thing for me, since I often have to unweight both legs to make a move (Photo: Yves)

Les Américains

Les Américains

In continued awe of my surroundings (Photo: Yves)

In continued awe of my surroundings (Photo: Yves)

After rushing back to the car to get out of the downpour, and upon arrival at a coffee shop to attend to some affairs, I was met with an unpleasant surprise. When I opened up my wallet, I discovered all my cash, credit cards, and bank cards had been neatly taken out of my wallet. My U.S. drivers license, health insurance, and other (non-financial) cards remained; how considerate. I knew Marseilles was known for its crime, but I did not expect leaving my wallet in the glove compartment, out of sight, in a remote parking lot, was in danger. These thieves were pros; they must have been making the rounds of fairly out of the way parking lots (we were the only car there when we arrived, and not many more cars were there upon our arrival back in the late afternoon).

Of course, the first step was cancelling all my cards and disputing any transactions that might have taken place. If I had been on my own, I would have figured out a way to get some kind of cash advance or credit card mailed to me. But, having Yves there was such a tremendous help, both practically for the rest of my stay in France, and also just in terms of emotional support for these kinds of small, but really really annoying, pain-in-the-bloody-arse kinds of incidents which can really be a big blow to an experience. Now, the overwhelming majority of my travels in my teens and 20’s was solo. But as I have gotten older, I have realized the value of traveling with a friend, partner etc. and makes me feel very appreciative of being on this with Yves.

Gorge du Verdon

There were/hardly any climbers in the Verdon in February, due to the cold temperatures. But since I do not live in/near this part of France, I had to take advantage of the opportunity to climb here. We had our sights set on L’Eperon Sublime (7a), but had to bail. It was still quite the experience.

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Gorge du Verdon in the setting light

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Dropping into the gorge required a fair number of rappels

Dropping into the gorge required a fair number of rappels

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Lots of caves and winding water

A familiar position... (Photo: Yves)

A familiar position… (Photo: Yves)

More familiar poses, leg brace and all (Photo: Yves)

More familiar poses, leg brace and all (Photo: Yves)

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