Les Calanques: Day 2

Here's the report from day 2, and the usual disclaimer applies: what follows is mostly true, and I certainly haven't made up anything except for the dialogue or the story.

Day 2 - Monday - Les Goudes to Morgiou, or "le bivouac de secours"
Motivation is low. I wake up early, as I tend to in a tent, to the tranquil sounds of the cave. I walk around the rock face. The sky is cloudy, it's humid and windy. The South face that I had hoped to climb is blasted by fierce sea winds, and the three-pitch moderate following a crack system is oozing with wet, black, calciferous scum.

It is the first day without coffee.

We climb a few single pitches, mostly 6a, dodging rain drops and trying not to be blown off the rock.

"I'll just keep this warm for you," Aaron says, putting on my coat as I tie in.
"Tomorrow is going to be beautiful. It's going to be hot." I tell Aaron and myself.

I'm hoping to climb a formation called "Cret St. Michel" the next day. Specifically, a face called "La Paroi Noire". According to the guidebook, the face is covered in four-pitch sport climbs with pitches graded between about 4c and 6c. Perfect. And what's better, I'm pretty sure that in the photo of the cliff I spot a cave.

So at the end of our feeble climbing day we make our way towards the village of Morgiou, the location of "Cret St. Michel", by way of Marseille and its bus system. I elect the Reseau de transport de Marseille for several reasons. First, I know that we will get there. The alternative is a faith-guided 15km hike over rough and unknown trails in the general direction of our destination. Second, it is 4pm, and we have almost no water. Third, I want to go to a grocery store for bread, cheese, and candy.

We get off the 19 at Rond-Point-de-Prado, in central Marseille, and wait at the cross walk. My climbing shoes are strapped to my backpack.
"Vous escaladiez dans les Goudes?" a woman asks.
"Oui, c'est ça." She must have seen us get off the bus. "C'était bien, mais il y avait du pluie."
"Quoi?"
"De la pluie?" I try again.
"Ah. C'est Luminy où il faut aller."
"Oui, on y va maintenant." I assure her.
She looks at her watch, almost disgusted. "Ça va être la galère. Prenez le 21, après il faut marcher."

I buy some cheese and bread and Haribo gummy bears, which I am thrilled to find, and we get on the 21 for Luminy. At the trailhead we go on a thirty minute detour into a university to find water, only to discover upon returning to the trailhead that there is a large water fountain marked "eau potable" that we didn't notice the first time. It is rapidly getting dark and starting to rain.

As we begin our march I explain to Aaron, "That woman told me 'ca va être la galère', which means 'that is going to be the galley.' Galley, like a Greek ship rowed by slaves. It's the strangest bit of modern slang, but basically she said that this was going to be a pain in the ass."

"She was right."

It is getting colder and wetter by the minute.

We make good time and find the cliff quickly. The guidebook says 30 minutes of approach, it has been 20. But as we approach the cliff in the dark it becomes clear that what appeared to be a cave in the guidebook is only water-stained overhang. The rocky ground beneath is is too steep for a tent.

It is well into the night now and raining harder. The cave vision will not be fulfilled tonight, and as our priorities change so do our criteria. I dash along the base of the cliff, looking for any clear spot that might be big enough for our tent. In some bushes, I find something. It's too small, the ground is rocky and sloping at least fifteen degrees, and the foliage enveloping the miniscule space will pose problems with the fly.

"I think I've got something" I holler at Aaron. He comes up to where I'm standing.
"You think we can fit the tent in there?" He asks.
"It's either this or we keep walking around looking for something else."
"I'm getting pretty wet."

We set up the tent with amazing rapidity. The fly goes on, we get in, and in the foggy dampness of the inside I see that the fly is already sticking to the walls.
"That's not good." I note.
"It's going to be stinky in here." Aaron warns me. "I just want to make sure that we're going into this with our eyes open."
"I know."
I go back into the storm and stake out the fly to the best of my ability. I cut holes where I feel I need to in order to place a stake or tie an edge to a bush.

I get back in the tent where we are both oriented sideways in order to keep our heads uphill. We remove wet clothing and try to get comfortable.
"This might be the closest this thing will get to its designated purpose." Aaron says, breaking out his emergency blanket. I break out the bag of wine and the gummy bears, and we prepare to feast.

"What do you think it's gonna be like in the morning?" I ask.
"I think it's gonna be wet."