I've been getting some emails lately from Blogger about some of my posts, specifically the "Anarchy Breakfast Returns!" post, which is no longer online. Some organization called the IFPI alleges that my post contains copywrited material.
Although that page is no longer around, the Anarchy Breakfast podcasts are still hosted online. These downloads contain no individual tracks, just radio-style 30-minute playlists.
In the meantime, I will probably not post any more podcasts. Stay tuned for the fall, when I hope to be hosting the Anarchy Breakfast on KGLT, and will potentially re-start the podcast.
Enjoy the rest of the summer.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
It's funny!
On a side note, Schlitz is impossible to find in Bozeman these days. We just have to settle for Old Milwaukee, or drive to the Midwest.More blogs to come.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Leaving France
My sejour in France is coming to a close.
I don't have a ton of time, so I'll give a recap of my weekend in Esterel a little bit later. In brief, I went rock climbing on Rhiolyte (the volcanic form of granite) which climbed somewhere in between limestone and granite. I met a cool dude named Mika, who works as a "cordiste", that is to say he works at heights on a rope. He's a slackliner and has set up highlines professionally for outdoor sports festivals, among other things. Mika was excited to do some easy gear climbing, so I did that with him instead of trying hard stuff. He showed me (briefly) how to set up a really long slackline with pulleys and ascenders, and fun was had by all.
As a way of saying goodbye to this place, here's a list of French contributions to the world:
1 Wine
2 Stinky cheese
3 Baguettes
4 Sport climbing
5 2-hour lunches, even for high school students! (See #1)
6 The bic lighter
7 Reserved courtesy (as in "Bonjour Monsieur" every time you go into a bakery, followed by "Au revoir, passez une bonne journée!)
8 Bureaucracy
9 Universal Health Care
10 Electronic music (Daft Punk, Vitalic, M83, Justice, Team Ghost, Air, et cetera)
Tomorrow I'm heading towards Millau to do some rock climbing with Alfred, Kassy, Stu, and Guillem. There's a folk festival that we'll try to get to as well. It promises to be an excellent time.
As for the Anarchy Breakfast, I won't be able to put up a playlist before I leave. The podcasts may continue from Montana, but if I get a radio show things might change a bit.
It's been a lovely year. The sun is shining, like it has been for the better part of nine months, and it will be sad to leave the "gastronomie française" and all of the bulletproof limestone behind. But that land of milk and honey is calling me: The West. It's time for The Journey Home.
Au revoir, France.
I don't have a ton of time, so I'll give a recap of my weekend in Esterel a little bit later. In brief, I went rock climbing on Rhiolyte (the volcanic form of granite) which climbed somewhere in between limestone and granite. I met a cool dude named Mika, who works as a "cordiste", that is to say he works at heights on a rope. He's a slackliner and has set up highlines professionally for outdoor sports festivals, among other things. Mika was excited to do some easy gear climbing, so I did that with him instead of trying hard stuff. He showed me (briefly) how to set up a really long slackline with pulleys and ascenders, and fun was had by all.
As a way of saying goodbye to this place, here's a list of French contributions to the world:
1 Wine
2 Stinky cheese
3 Baguettes
4 Sport climbing
5 2-hour lunches, even for high school students! (See #1)
6 The bic lighter
7 Reserved courtesy (as in "Bonjour Monsieur" every time you go into a bakery, followed by "Au revoir, passez une bonne journée!)
8 Bureaucracy
9 Universal Health Care
10 Electronic music (Daft Punk, Vitalic, M83, Justice, Team Ghost, Air, et cetera)
Tomorrow I'm heading towards Millau to do some rock climbing with Alfred, Kassy, Stu, and Guillem. There's a folk festival that we'll try to get to as well. It promises to be an excellent time.
As for the Anarchy Breakfast, I won't be able to put up a playlist before I leave. The podcasts may continue from Montana, but if I get a radio show things might change a bit.
It's been a lovely year. The sun is shining, like it has been for the better part of nine months, and it will be sad to leave the "gastronomie française" and all of the bulletproof limestone behind. But that land of milk and honey is calling me: The West. It's time for The Journey Home.
Au revoir, France.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Music!
2010 is turning out to be an exceptional year in music. Here are some records that I've been gushing about recently, in no particular order:
Josh Ritter - So Runs The World Away
Joanna Newsom - Have One On Me
Broken Social Scene - Forgiveness Rock Record
The National - High Violet
Tracks from these were all on my latest podcast, and they're all Amazing, with a capital A.
Also worth mentioning are Caribou's "Swim", a fantastic electronic record full of dancy rhythms and fun surprises, and Team Ghost's "You Never Did Anything Wrong To Me".
Team Ghost is one half of the French electronic duo M83, and every review points out that this EP logically follows M83's "Dead Cities, Red Seas & Lost Ghosts". This is a good thing, and it's a great EP full of atmospheric sounds and the rare pop-hook.
Titus Andronicus, a rather fatalist outfit from New Jersey, came out with "The Monitor" earlier this year. It explores everything that is difficult about life through the filter of the American civil war. It's harsh at times and the lyrics are frequently obscure. The record is interspersed with anthems about the futility of trying and laments for a style of life long gone. It's worth several listens, and at the end of each you'll feel like opening a beer and giving up.
These are all bands that I've been following in some form or another, and it's really gratifying to be so pleasantly surprised by the quality of these new releases. But this year has not been without a few disappointments.
The Hold Steady released a new record this year called "Heaven is Now". Their first four records followed a reasonably clear theme, mostly dealing with Catholicism and lost faith, put to the sounds of 80's rock and singer Craig Finn's barked "singing". It was raw on first listen and lyrically very interesting. But with their newest record the band has all but abandoned this theme and moved on to more personal (read: less interesting) topics. Finn honestly tries to sing, and the music has become more polished. The result is a derivative, boring, 80's rock record twenty-five years too late. And it's a shame.
Frightened Rabbit, a Scottish band, put out a record this year called "The Winter of Mixed Drinks". Their first effort, called "The Midnight Organ Fight", was like so many great records fueled by a nasty breakup and all of the emotions that come with it. It was honest, sometimes stripped down, and poignant. The most striking moments were the quieter ones. But the latest record comes from a much happier place. The band has packed in as much sound as possible into each track, and it shows. The poignant lyrics are gone and what is left is mostly obscured by the over-enthusiastic instrumentation. The record is draining to listen to and disappointing to finish.
As far as new (to me) music, I've recently been exploring and enjoying records by Groundation, an American reggae outfit, and I finally got around to checking out Crystal Castles. Their latest record (their second self-titled) got some good reviews, being labeled as more accessible than their debut. Crystal Castles makes abrasive electronic music filled with surprising twists, and in the right mood it can be amazing. For me, though, it definitely falls into the category of "music to listen to infrequently". Not something I'd put on before noon.
So far, however, the disappointments have been far outweighed by great output from established bands. We'll see what the rest of 2010 looks like, but so far it seems that the heavyweights of indie rock are striking back in a big way.
Josh Ritter - So Runs The World Away
Joanna Newsom - Have One On Me
Broken Social Scene - Forgiveness Rock Record
The National - High Violet
Tracks from these were all on my latest podcast, and they're all Amazing, with a capital A.
Also worth mentioning are Caribou's "Swim", a fantastic electronic record full of dancy rhythms and fun surprises, and Team Ghost's "You Never Did Anything Wrong To Me".
Team Ghost is one half of the French electronic duo M83, and every review points out that this EP logically follows M83's "Dead Cities, Red Seas & Lost Ghosts". This is a good thing, and it's a great EP full of atmospheric sounds and the rare pop-hook.
Titus Andronicus, a rather fatalist outfit from New Jersey, came out with "The Monitor" earlier this year. It explores everything that is difficult about life through the filter of the American civil war. It's harsh at times and the lyrics are frequently obscure. The record is interspersed with anthems about the futility of trying and laments for a style of life long gone. It's worth several listens, and at the end of each you'll feel like opening a beer and giving up.
These are all bands that I've been following in some form or another, and it's really gratifying to be so pleasantly surprised by the quality of these new releases. But this year has not been without a few disappointments.
The Hold Steady released a new record this year called "Heaven is Now". Their first four records followed a reasonably clear theme, mostly dealing with Catholicism and lost faith, put to the sounds of 80's rock and singer Craig Finn's barked "singing". It was raw on first listen and lyrically very interesting. But with their newest record the band has all but abandoned this theme and moved on to more personal (read: less interesting) topics. Finn honestly tries to sing, and the music has become more polished. The result is a derivative, boring, 80's rock record twenty-five years too late. And it's a shame.
Frightened Rabbit, a Scottish band, put out a record this year called "The Winter of Mixed Drinks". Their first effort, called "The Midnight Organ Fight", was like so many great records fueled by a nasty breakup and all of the emotions that come with it. It was honest, sometimes stripped down, and poignant. The most striking moments were the quieter ones. But the latest record comes from a much happier place. The band has packed in as much sound as possible into each track, and it shows. The poignant lyrics are gone and what is left is mostly obscured by the over-enthusiastic instrumentation. The record is draining to listen to and disappointing to finish.
As far as new (to me) music, I've recently been exploring and enjoying records by Groundation, an American reggae outfit, and I finally got around to checking out Crystal Castles. Their latest record (their second self-titled) got some good reviews, being labeled as more accessible than their debut. Crystal Castles makes abrasive electronic music filled with surprising twists, and in the right mood it can be amazing. For me, though, it definitely falls into the category of "music to listen to infrequently". Not something I'd put on before noon.
So far, however, the disappointments have been far outweighed by great output from established bands. We'll see what the rest of 2010 looks like, but so far it seems that the heavyweights of indie rock are striking back in a big way.
Friday, April 23, 2010
The Anarchy Breakfast returns!
It's been a while, so today I bring you two playlists. Instead of the (by now) usual narrative, both playlists consist exclusively of music. The first is a collection of new music that I'm really excited about. Hence the title:
"New Music Makes Me Weak In The Knees"
1 Kolniður - Jónsi - Go
2 Sentimental X's - Broken Social Scene - Forgiveness Rock Record
3 Relief - Sam Amidon - I See The Sign
4 Conversation 16 - The National - High Violet
5 The Arrangement - Beach House - Zebra
6 The Curse - Josh Ritter - So Runs The World Away
7 Occident - Joanna Newsom - Have One On Me
Download removed because of the DMCA
But I do feel like I frequently (read: consistently, without fail) fall into the standard college-radio, All-Songs-Considered, pitchfork-media trap of "indie rock". So recently, just for kicks, I've been trying to expand just a tiny bit and I've gotten my hands on some reggae. It's fun to explore another genre. So this week, the "bonus" playlist is "The Anarchy Breakfast, Reggae Edition!" Listen to it if you're interested, as I certainly am.
"The Anarchy Breakfast, Reggae Edition!"
1 Pagan, Pay Gone - Midnite - Ras Mek Peace (Before Reverb and Without Delay)
2 Roman Soldiers of Babylon - Jacob Miller - Collector's Classics
3 Ça Va Faire Mal - Tiken Jak Fakoly - Coup de Geule
4 Ball of Fire - Israel Vibration - The Same Song
5 80,000 Careless Ethiopians - Jacob Miller - Collector's Classics
6 Far Beyond - Israel Vibration - Stamina
7 Fierce Fast and Low Dub - Midnite - Intense Pressure
Download Removed
"New Music Makes Me Weak In The Knees"
1 Kolniður - Jónsi - Go
2 Sentimental X's - Broken Social Scene - Forgiveness Rock Record
3 Relief - Sam Amidon - I See The Sign
4 Conversation 16 - The National - High Violet
5 The Arrangement - Beach House - Zebra
6 The Curse - Josh Ritter - So Runs The World Away
7 Occident - Joanna Newsom - Have One On Me
Download removed because of the DMCA
But I do feel like I frequently (read: consistently, without fail) fall into the standard college-radio, All-Songs-Considered, pitchfork-media trap of "indie rock". So recently, just for kicks, I've been trying to expand just a tiny bit and I've gotten my hands on some reggae. It's fun to explore another genre. So this week, the "bonus" playlist is "The Anarchy Breakfast, Reggae Edition!" Listen to it if you're interested, as I certainly am.
"The Anarchy Breakfast, Reggae Edition!"
1 Pagan, Pay Gone - Midnite - Ras Mek Peace (Before Reverb and Without Delay)
2 Roman Soldiers of Babylon - Jacob Miller - Collector's Classics
3 Ça Va Faire Mal - Tiken Jak Fakoly - Coup de Geule
4 Ball of Fire - Israel Vibration - The Same Song
5 80,000 Careless Ethiopians - Jacob Miller - Collector's Classics
6 Far Beyond - Israel Vibration - Stamina
7 Fierce Fast and Low Dub - Midnite - Intense Pressure
Download Removed
Saint Guilhem to La Jonte
Saint Guilhem le Dèsert
Saint Guilhem le Désert is a rather particular area, as far as crags go. The medieval village is classified as a UNESCO world heritage site, and the area surrounding is is similarly protected. The village sees millions of tourists each year, and more than half of the surrounding cliffs are forbidden for climbing. Perhaps because of this delicate situation, there
is no existing guidebook for the permitted climbing in the area. Luckily, Adrien has compiled his own topos and knows the area reasonably well. We went to a crag with mostly hard stuff. While Florent and Adrien wore themselves out on some of these overhanging monsters, Florence and I rappelled down to another cliff to try a longish traversing 6a. What I thought was a sport route, however, had only about six bolts in 40 meters. I threw the two slings I had over some bushes for extra (psychological?) protection, climbed carefully, and made a mental note to correct Adrien's topo sheet.
La Jonte
That night we made it to La Jonte rather late and set up our "bivouac". What the French called "bivouac" is basically what we think of as camping. As Adrien explained it to me, bivouac means
you set up the tent after dark and break down the tent at daybreak. "Camping" entails leaving the tent pitched, and usually means paying for a site. When we woke up the next morning we noticed signs nailed to trees that said, "camping - feux interdits". Oops. We weren't sure whether that meant no camping, no campfires, or neither, but we decided to sleep somewhere else the next night.
Les Gorges de la Jonte consist mostly of multi-pitch climbs on the 100-150 meter walls. The rock is Dolomite, a special type of limestone founds mostly in, you guessed it, the Dolomites of Italy. Dolomite forms cool, sharp pockets and irregular edges, and it's quite fun to climb on. The first Day Adrien and I did "Gallo Loco" a beautiful, well-bolted and over graded 100m climb, in about an hour. Then we attacked "Fais Caf c'est Dur", a slightly harder line of the same length and quality. We found a different "bivouac" spot by a picnic area and settled in.
The next day, my confidence boosted by the soft grades and large number of bolts on "Gallo Loco", I wanted to try "l'Arète Ouest". "L'Arète Ouest", graded 5c-6a-5c, is the local sandbag. With a bolt every six meters and sustained, steep climbing on pockets, it's a lot harder than it seems on paper. I took a 15 meter fall on the crux pitch and bailed. L'Arète Ouest: 1, William: 0.
Wanting to do something a little less physical, I joined up with Adrien the next day to do an easier gear climb called "Démons et Merveilles". The crack protected well and went smoothly.
At the top, we met a couple of Belgians named Thom and Stephane, also o
n vacation. They invited us back to their car for some beers. Florence and Florent went to do another climb, but Adrien and I decided to follow the Belgians. A climber has to know when to climb and when to drink. Our choice turned out to be a good one, as the Belgians were traveling with a cooler full of top-shelf Belgian beer. The four of us sat in the parking lot, talking half in English, half in French, for the better part of two hours.
Eventually the Belgians left for the long drive to go bouldering in Fontainbleau, and Adrien and I finished the day at a boulder called "Body Building", a 45 degree overhanging monster of a crag. After sufficiently destroying our forearms, we went to a spot suggested by the Belgians in the
neighboring Gorges du Tarn (Lots of climbing there, also) which was perfect for our purposes. We slept hard.
Saturday, we were all beat. Adrien and I climbed at Body Building again, but quickly realized that there was no way we were going to send anything and gave up. Bodies aching, all four of us returned to Montpellier for some much-needed rest.
Coming soon: an Anarchy Breakfast double-header, with a twist.
Saint Guilhem le Désert is a rather particular area, as far as crags go. The medieval village is classified as a UNESCO world heritage site, and the area surrounding is is similarly protected. The village sees millions of tourists each year, and more than half of the surrounding cliffs are forbidden for climbing. Perhaps because of this delicate situation, there
is no existing guidebook for the permitted climbing in the area. Luckily, Adrien has compiled his own topos and knows the area reasonably well. We went to a crag with mostly hard stuff. While Florent and Adrien wore themselves out on some of these overhanging monsters, Florence and I rappelled down to another cliff to try a longish traversing 6a. What I thought was a sport route, however, had only about six bolts in 40 meters. I threw the two slings I had over some bushes for extra (psychological?) protection, climbed carefully, and made a mental note to correct Adrien's topo sheet.La Jonte
That night we made it to La Jonte rather late and set up our "bivouac". What the French called "bivouac" is basically what we think of as camping. As Adrien explained it to me, bivouac means
you set up the tent after dark and break down the tent at daybreak. "Camping" entails leaving the tent pitched, and usually means paying for a site. When we woke up the next morning we noticed signs nailed to trees that said, "camping - feux interdits". Oops. We weren't sure whether that meant no camping, no campfires, or neither, but we decided to sleep somewhere else the next night.Les Gorges de la Jonte consist mostly of multi-pitch climbs on the 100-150 meter walls. The rock is Dolomite, a special type of limestone founds mostly in, you guessed it, the Dolomites of Italy. Dolomite forms cool, sharp pockets and irregular edges, and it's quite fun to climb on. The first Day Adrien and I did "Gallo Loco" a beautiful, well-bolted and over graded 100m climb, in about an hour. Then we attacked "Fais Caf c'est Dur", a slightly harder line of the same length and quality. We found a different "bivouac" spot by a picnic area and settled in.
The next day, my confidence boosted by the soft grades and large number of bolts on "Gallo Loco", I wanted to try "l'Arète Ouest". "L'Arète Ouest", graded 5c-6a-5c, is the local sandbag. With a bolt every six meters and sustained, steep climbing on pockets, it's a lot harder than it seems on paper. I took a 15 meter fall on the crux pitch and bailed. L'Arète Ouest: 1, William: 0.
Wanting to do something a little less physical, I joined up with Adrien the next day to do an easier gear climb called "Démons et Merveilles". The crack protected well and went smoothly.
At the top, we met a couple of Belgians named Thom and Stephane, also o
n vacation. They invited us back to their car for some beers. Florence and Florent went to do another climb, but Adrien and I decided to follow the Belgians. A climber has to know when to climb and when to drink. Our choice turned out to be a good one, as the Belgians were traveling with a cooler full of top-shelf Belgian beer. The four of us sat in the parking lot, talking half in English, half in French, for the better part of two hours.Eventually the Belgians left for the long drive to go bouldering in Fontainbleau, and Adrien and I finished the day at a boulder called "Body Building", a 45 degree overhanging monster of a crag. After sufficiently destroying our forearms, we went to a spot suggested by the Belgians in the
neighboring Gorges du Tarn (Lots of climbing there, also) which was perfect for our purposes. We slept hard.Saturday, we were all beat. Adrien and I climbed at Body Building again, but quickly realized that there was no way we were going to send anything and gave up. Bodies aching, all four of us returned to Montpellier for some much-needed rest.
Coming soon: an Anarchy Breakfast double-header, with a twist.
Verdon!
"Let's go to Verdon this weekend!" Said the email in my inbox. It came from Adrien, from my climbing club.Verdon is a 3.5 hour drive from Montpellier and a world-renowned climbing area. "The most beautiful limestone," Jacques told me.
"The most b
eautiful limestone...?" I probed."In the world." He insisted. "It's incredible."
That Thursday, at the bar, I signed on. Three of us would leave the next morning at 8, to be joined that evening by seven more.
The three early risers (Adrien, Fabrice, and myself) decided to do "À tout cœur" Friday afternoon. It consisted of 150 meters of mostly 6a+, with a significantly harder crux pitch of 6b+. Adrien led the whole thing, with Fabrice and I following "en flèche", each one of us tied into one strand of a half rope.
The route is well traveled, being a gorgeous line at a world-famous "crag", and this fact combined with the rather sandbagged grade meant that a lot of the key holds were polished. It was still a gorgeous climb, and a lovely introduction to the area.
That night, we settled in at a neat little "camping" with all of the amenities. Running (hot!) water, toilets, showers, a fireplace, and most importantly, perfect slacklining trees.
The next day I
climbed with Anaïs. We did "Cocoluche" and the second half of "Les Dalles Grises", both about 150 meters. The weather was perfect, and these climbs were less demanding and less technically difficult that that of the previous day. "Tranqil."That evening I brought out the slackline. A few climbers had tried it before and were reasonably confident, but when I pulled the webbing out of it's bag, they were all a little surprised. "It's so thin!" They said. I guess they're used to walking on 2" webbing, which, it would seem, is significantly easier. A good time was had by all.
The next day I climbed with Joseph at a cliff called "le Dent d'aire", on a climb called "Le Petit Chat". This one was relatively short, just over 100 meters, which we had chosen because the weather for Sunday afternoon was predicted to be "variable". We moved rapidly, which is always fun, and quickly finished the climb. The first half was uncharacteristically loose, but the second half was magnificent. The rest of the afternoon was spent playing tourist.
Sunday night the less dedicated (read: employed) among us returned to Montpellier. Adrien, Florence, Florent, Anaïs, and myself remained, to see what the weather would do.
As it turned out, Monday was rainy. We entertained ourselves by doing the classic "sentier Martel", a hike which goes from one end of the gorge to the other, passing a couple of kilometers of tunnel (headlamp required!). The signs mentioned an estimated time of 7.5 hours from one end to the other, but we did it in 4.5 including lunch. Soaked by the rain, we hit the bar and looked for positive weather predictions.
But the weather was looking miserable all week, and as we debated what to do it started snowing. "C'est mort," said Adrien. We discussed La Jonte, on the other side of Montpellier. "C'est super loin," one of us said. Also mentioned were Les Calanques, by Marseilles, and St. Victoire by Aix-en-Provence. But the weather
wasn't looking much
better in that direction either. After hours of debate, we gave up and returned to Montpellier, getting in well after midnight. The next day we got in touch. It was still break, after all. Adrien, Florent, Florence and myself decided that day to go to La Jonte, an hour and a half north of Montpellier, with a stop at St. Guillem le Desert to do some cragging on the way. We would stay in La Jonte all week.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Sunday
We wake up late on Easter Sunday, after a late night of spaghetti and beer. The plan is a lazy afternoon at the tiny local crag of Mosset, in the Pyrenees. It's a large granite block, maybe 30 meters tall at its peak. A handful of routes are equipped, and Sebastien is intent on making a guidebook. Towards this goal, we try to climb everything. It is refreshing to climb on something other than limestone, and despite intermittent storms we climb a lot of routes. In the afternoon, after a particularly violent pocket of rain, I make what I think is probably the first ascent of a decidedly not-magnificent chimney on the back side of the rock. It's wide at the start, with honest-to-goodness, do-the-splits stemming before gaining a series of large chockstones and a crack about the right size to jam a fist in. It goes for about 20 meters, and I place some good nuts and a cam on the way up.
It storms some more, we drink some wine, and we call it a day.
It storms some more, we drink some wine, and we call it a day.
Saturday
Monday is a holiday, so for the weekend some climbers have planned a trip towards the Pyrenees. The first stop is Vingrau, about an hour and a half from Montpellier.
Well known for its improbable slabs, Vingrau also has a host of short multi-pitch routes and some of what the French call "terrain d'aventure". Depending on the location, "terrain d'av" can mean anything from a route with absolutely no equipment, requiring a full rack of traditional protection, to old pitons, to a mostly bolted route with a level of commitment maybe slightly higher than your average French sport route. After a couple routes to warm up and a full French lunch, Adrien proposes "Le plan incliné". It's a 70 meter route, mostly on gear, with two pitches and a bolted belay. I'm game, so we rack up and go for it.
Adrien is a very strong climber, but as I'm seconding his first pitch I'm pretty skeptical of the quality of his gear placements. I finally get to a cam that I think might hold a fall about 25 meters off the ground and about 5 meters from the belay.
"It's a good thing you're so strong," I tell him, "because until just now you were soloing."
I grab the rack and start off on my pitch. The climbing is not too hard, the crack takes good gear, and about 40 meters later I'm at the top, belaying Adrien. We rappel down and chat with some French people at the base about Montana and "A River Runs Through It."
"That's where I live," I tell them, and Adrien and I walk back to where our friends are, around the corner.
We here a loud rumble of rocks falling. We pause for a second and don't think about it.
But while I'm belaying Adrien on the next route, the road below is blocked off and filled with rescue vans. As I'm lowering Adrien we hear the unmistakable noise of a helicopter.
It's a rescue.
"I'm done." I tell Adrien. "Two helicopters in two days is too much."
The wall we had been climbing on just before had apparently lost a large block, injuring two climbers. We had been there 10 minutes before it happened, on the route just to the right.
The climbers were alive, but seriously hurt, and were whisked off rapidly to the hospital.
The drive to Sebastien's parents house, our lodging for the weekend, is done in silence.
Well known for its improbable slabs, Vingrau also has a host of short multi-pitch routes and some of what the French call "terrain d'aventure". Depending on the location, "terrain d'av" can mean anything from a route with absolutely no equipment, requiring a full rack of traditional protection, to old pitons, to a mostly bolted route with a level of commitment maybe slightly higher than your average French sport route. After a couple routes to warm up and a full French lunch, Adrien proposes "Le plan incliné". It's a 70 meter route, mostly on gear, with two pitches and a bolted belay. I'm game, so we rack up and go for it.
Adrien is a very strong climber, but as I'm seconding his first pitch I'm pretty skeptical of the quality of his gear placements. I finally get to a cam that I think might hold a fall about 25 meters off the ground and about 5 meters from the belay.
"It's a good thing you're so strong," I tell him, "because until just now you were soloing."
I grab the rack and start off on my pitch. The climbing is not too hard, the crack takes good gear, and about 40 meters later I'm at the top, belaying Adrien. We rappel down and chat with some French people at the base about Montana and "A River Runs Through It."
"That's where I live," I tell them, and Adrien and I walk back to where our friends are, around the corner.
We here a loud rumble of rocks falling. We pause for a second and don't think about it.
But while I'm belaying Adrien on the next route, the road below is blocked off and filled with rescue vans. As I'm lowering Adrien we hear the unmistakable noise of a helicopter.
It's a rescue.
"I'm done." I tell Adrien. "Two helicopters in two days is too much."
The wall we had been climbing on just before had apparently lost a large block, injuring two climbers. We had been there 10 minutes before it happened, on the route just to the right.
The climbers were alive, but seriously hurt, and were whisked off rapidly to the hospital.
The drive to Sebastien's parents house, our lodging for the weekend, is done in silence.
Friday
Thursday night I get a text message: "I'm free tomorrow, let me know if you want to go climbing. - Baptiste"
Some other friends will be climbing the next day at Thaurac, the local crag, but they're leaving at 9:30. Baptiste and I decide instead to leave at the very reasonable hour of 11AM, and when we meet the next morning we decide to climb a "grande voie". Baptiste has never done any multi-pitch, so we go to a clean, well-protected wall at Thaurac for his first time. I briefly show him how to make an anchor and how to tie in with a clove hitch, and we cast off. It goes pretty quickly, and he's hooked.
"At first I was nervous, but as soon as I started the second pitch on lead everything was fine."
"Next time we'll go to L'Hortus," I tell him.
We decide to spend the rest of the day cragging, which involves driving a few minutes down the canyon to another wall. But as we round the corner, we see a number of rescue vehicles and a helicopter overhead. We pass, slowly, and my heart jumps as I see my friend's car, the one who left at 9:30, parked just ahead.
"I hope it's not Adrien." I say, and then we're silent as we make our way away from the scene. "Jeez, that's scary."
We climb all afternoon through slowly deteriorating conditions, but despite the accident's morale-lowering effect and the gray sky, both Baptiste and I manage to climb some hard routes that had previously eluded us.
That night I send Adrien a message, to see if he's okay.
"I'm fine" he tells me. "The accident was on the via ferrata, right next to us. I don't have any more details."
Some other friends will be climbing the next day at Thaurac, the local crag, but they're leaving at 9:30. Baptiste and I decide instead to leave at the very reasonable hour of 11AM, and when we meet the next morning we decide to climb a "grande voie". Baptiste has never done any multi-pitch, so we go to a clean, well-protected wall at Thaurac for his first time. I briefly show him how to make an anchor and how to tie in with a clove hitch, and we cast off. It goes pretty quickly, and he's hooked.
"At first I was nervous, but as soon as I started the second pitch on lead everything was fine."
"Next time we'll go to L'Hortus," I tell him.
We decide to spend the rest of the day cragging, which involves driving a few minutes down the canyon to another wall. But as we round the corner, we see a number of rescue vehicles and a helicopter overhead. We pass, slowly, and my heart jumps as I see my friend's car, the one who left at 9:30, parked just ahead.
"I hope it's not Adrien." I say, and then we're silent as we make our way away from the scene. "Jeez, that's scary."
We climb all afternoon through slowly deteriorating conditions, but despite the accident's morale-lowering effect and the gray sky, both Baptiste and I manage to climb some hard routes that had previously eluded us.
That night I send Adrien a message, to see if he's okay.
"I'm fine" he tells me. "The accident was on the via ferrata, right next to us. I don't have any more details."
Saturday, March 27, 2010
The Journey Home (Part III)
And with this installment, this particular story is over.
The Journey Home (Part III)
1 The Mansion - The Microphones - The Glow Pt. 2
2 Neahkahnie - Le Loup - Family
3 Sleeping In - The Morning Benders - Big Echo
4 Daisy - Fang Island - Fang Island
5 Be My Girl - Smith Westerns - Smith Westerns
6 She Gone - Gonjasufi - A Sufi And A Killer
7 A Pot In Which To Piss - Titus Andronicus - The Monitor
Download here
The Journey Home (Part III)
1 The Mansion - The Microphones - The Glow Pt. 2
2 Neahkahnie - Le Loup - Family
3 Sleeping In - The Morning Benders - Big Echo
4 Daisy - Fang Island - Fang Island
5 Be My Girl - Smith Westerns - Smith Westerns
6 She Gone - Gonjasufi - A Sufi And A Killer
7 A Pot In Which To Piss - Titus Andronicus - The Monitor
Download here
Lately I've been thinking about some very important questions
Just kidding. I haven't been doing anything of the sort.
Instead, I've been writing papers and itching to get outside. I've been slacklining in a park more and more frequently,
now that the weather is starting to be downright estival. The park has two playgrounds, soft grass and a number of well-spaced trees. It's calm and shady and frequently filled with mothers and their young children, especially on Wednesday when elementary school does not meet. So I go to this park when I have an hour or two and set up a slackline. The not-so-subtle gawking starts as soon as I start rigging up the line.
"Look!" One kid might whisper.
"What's he doing?"
And after I've walked back and forth a few times, there's a crowd, about three deep and five wide, of small, smiling children watching me intently. I fall off.
"Are you with the circus?" One would ask.
"Nope. I just do this for fun. Wanna try?" I offer.
"Oh! no...."
"You sure? It's easy. I'll hold your hand."
And after a shake of the head from the kid, I return to the line and walk a few more laps.
I like the idea of the child at play. In the park, I feel like I'm witness to the best moments. The whiny, tired, crying and irritating child does not appear - instead, I only see the smiles. The mothers chat with each other while gently rocking their strollers back and forth, old people make slow laps around the park punctuated by the sound of canes and heavy breathing. The atmosphere is overwhelmingly positive.
It's a nice reminder, thinking about children in the context of park, non-park. A metaphor, if you like.
Go to the park, play, be happy. Pick up a stick and pretend it's a fishing pole. Watch the circus guy walk his tightrope. Kick the soccer ball around with dad, play on the monkey bars while grandmother worries that you're going to hurt yourself. Leave the discomfort and the whining at home.
All you have to do, really, is find a park that's fun to play in and go there as often as possible.
Instead, I've been writing papers and itching to get outside. I've been slacklining in a park more and more frequently,
now that the weather is starting to be downright estival. The park has two playgrounds, soft grass and a number of well-spaced trees. It's calm and shady and frequently filled with mothers and their young children, especially on Wednesday when elementary school does not meet. So I go to this park when I have an hour or two and set up a slackline. The not-so-subtle gawking starts as soon as I start rigging up the line."Look!" One kid might whisper.
"What's he doing?"
And after I've walked back and forth a few times, there's a crowd, about three deep and five wide, of small, smiling children watching me intently. I fall off.
"Are you with the circus?" One would ask.
"Nope. I just do this for fun. Wanna try?" I offer.
"Oh! no...."
"You sure? It's easy. I'll hold your hand."
And after a shake of the head from the kid, I return to the line and walk a few more laps.
I like the idea of the child at play. In the park, I feel like I'm witness to the best moments. The whiny, tired, crying and irritating child does not appear - instead, I only see the smiles. The mothers chat with each other while gently rocking their strollers back and forth, old people make slow laps around the park punctuated by the sound of canes and heavy breathing. The atmosphere is overwhelmingly positive.
It's a nice reminder, thinking about children in the context of park, non-park. A metaphor, if you like.
Go to the park, play, be happy. Pick up a stick and pretend it's a fishing pole. Watch the circus guy walk his tightrope. Kick the soccer ball around with dad, play on the monkey bars while grandmother worries that you're going to hurt yourself. Leave the discomfort and the whining at home.
All you have to do, really, is find a park that's fun to play in and go there as often as possible.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
A return to form: The Journey Home (Part II)
This puts a tentative end to real blogging here at The Encyclopedia of Taste. Instead, we're back to your regularly scheduled Wednesday programming: The Anarchy Breakfast podcast.
I was really feeling the post-rock this week. As a result, this podcast is full of post-rock and falls squarely in the category of "music to listen to while waking up".
The Journey Home (Part II)
1 Settler - Balmorhea - Daytrotter Session
2 Travel is Dangerous - Mogwai - Mr Beast
3 Radio Swan is Down (Part II) - Laura - Radio Swan is Down
4 The Adjustor - The Octopus Project - One Ten Hundred Thousand Million
5 What Do You Go Home To? - Explosions in the Sky - All Of A Sudden I Miss Everyone
6 They Move On Tracks Of Never-ending Light - This Will Destroy You - This Will Destroy You
Download here.
Enjoy.
I was really feeling the post-rock this week. As a result, this podcast is full of post-rock and falls squarely in the category of "music to listen to while waking up".
The Journey Home (Part II)
1 Settler - Balmorhea - Daytrotter Session
2 Travel is Dangerous - Mogwai - Mr Beast
3 Radio Swan is Down (Part II) - Laura - Radio Swan is Down
4 The Adjustor - The Octopus Project - One Ten Hundred Thousand Million
5 What Do You Go Home To? - Explosions in the Sky - All Of A Sudden I Miss Everyone
6 They Move On Tracks Of Never-ending Light - This Will Destroy You - This Will Destroy You
Download here.
Enjoy.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Les Calanques: Day 4
Day - Wednesday - Le Bec de Sormiou
I wake up, toasty warm and surprisingly comfortable. The bed of rocks seems to have conformed to my body in the night and makes a perfect mattress. I look over at Aaron, who has his emergency blanket wrapped around his feet and the hood of my puffy coat on his head. The tent is starting to feel like home. I get out and pee and note that it has rained overnight. In our perfect spot under the overhang we hardly noticed.
The sky is still a little grey, but I can feel the sun making an effort to appear. We make no effort to hurry, but by a little before nine everything is packed away, our bags are hidden in the bushes, and we are making our way towards Le Bec de Sormiou with only what we will need to climb. The day before I had shown Aaron how to coil the climbing rope into a backpack. He wears it now and I carry the small second's pack with the topo, a bottle of water and some cashews.
It takes longer than we expect to get to Le Bec, and after a bit of downclimbing we find ourselves meters from the ocean on a strange sort of beach, looking at the departures of the first climbs.
"Do you see any bolts?"
"Not really."
"I saw one way up there," I point about fifteen meters above us.
Between us and the first bolt is a series of steep pockets and cavernous holes. We see old, tattered bits of climbing rope threaded through some of the tunnels, and I deduce that this must be the beginning of "Antecime". It looks wet and greasy. The pitches above look slightly cleaner, but not amazing.
"Wanna keep going?" Aaron asks me.
"Sure."
"This doesn't look too great to me."
To get to the beginning of the other routes, we will have to traverse out left and climb a short approach pitch graded somewhere around 4+.
We traverse the rocky "beach" and arrive at the approach pitches.
"I'll go." I say. The pitch is quick and easy, though a little bit wet, and at the anchors at the top I put Aaron on belay.
"Uh, it's gonna take me a few minutes to get ready." He informs me. I watch the waves.
Once begun, it doesn't take Aaron more than half a minute to climb to where I am, and he continues around to the left, still on belay, to find our route.
He finds some anchors and I join him, and though we are still unsure about our location, we decide to go for it. Aaron leads the first pitch, which should be 4+. It feels about right.
At the top of
the first pitch, I look up at the next one. It should be 5c, and it looks like another steep, greasy flake. The movements are neat, despite the slime-covered rock, and it's quickly over. I look to the right of our route and see some scary pitons protecting a thin 6c. I decide we're on the right route. The next pitch is a long 5b, and Aaron takes it. Seconding, I am impressed with Aaron's lead. For a 5b, it's exceptionally thin and very balancey. The bolts are adequate, but not generous. As I arrive the belay, I look up and examine the 5c above. It's soaked.
"Why do I always get the wet pitches?" I demand.
"Just lucky, I guess."
After some scary slab moves on wet limestone and an airy traverse to the anchors, I belay Aaron up to the large ledge. By this time, we're more than 100 meters above the ocean and the exposure is amazing. We're one pitch from the top and I'm thrilled.
"You're up!" I say to Aaron as he arrives.
"I think you better take this last pitch. I'm beginning to feel the effects of climbing more in the last week than I'm used to."
"Come on, it's only 5a. It looks great." I tell him.
"You sure it's only 5a?"
"Pretty sure. We could check the topo."
We do, and it's not.
"Shit, it's 5c. Good thing we checked."
I drink some water and give the pack back to Aaron.
The last pitch is amazing, if a little sparsely bolted. Near the top where it gets steep I see a maillon rapide hanging from a bolt. Somebody had to escape the route, by the looks of it, only about 10 meters from the top. Must be the crux, I think to myself.
I get to the bolt, clip it, and look at my options. The holds are all there, but they're a little far apart. I stretch and grab the jug, excited to have made it, and sprint for the finish.
As I top out, the wind blasts me in the face. It's coming from the West, and we've been sheltered the entire climb. I'm thrilled and let out a yell. I put Aaron on belay and bring him up.
"Welcome to the top!" I say.
We put on some extra clothes, drink some water, and eat some cashews above the Mediterranean.
"Perfect belay ledges!" I exclaim. "Perfect belay ledges on every pitch."
"Classic."
"Did you see that quick link?" Aaron asks me.
"Yeah! I guess somebody had to rappel off. I tried to take the thing off, but it was fused shut."
"Must've been the crux."
We walk down, and as we're discussing our options for the afternoon, a storm rolls in fast and hard. The blue skies are replaced by angry storm clouds, and as we huddle under a trash shelter sorting out gear in the village, a woman offers us a ride back to Marseille. An exceptionally nice offer, but our tent and all of our gear are still in the bushes.
"Non, merci. Mais c'est très gentil!" I tell the woman, and she shake her head and gets in her car.
Instead, we walk back to the overhang, pitch the tent and take refuge for the afternoon. The storm clears as quickly as it arrived, and we decided to walk to Marseille, to see what kind of exit we're in for the next morning. It only takes an hour to get to town, what looks like a predominantly North-African suburb. We laugh as a sports car skids around the corner with the sign marked "Mosquée" and shake our heads at the teenagers riding wheelies on their mopeds. Suddenly, we find ourselves in front of a shopping center.
"Let's go the the mall!" Aaron says.
"Okay."
"If we were 13, this would be AWESOME."
But we do go in, and it turns out to be a supermarket. After picking up more cheese and bread and a glass from which to drink Pastis, we head back towards camp. In front of the store we see an advertisement for a magazine called "Votre Beauté". The cover features a redheaded model, and she's topless.
"Hold on a second." Aaron says. He's surprised by the public nudity, and no doubt interested in the feature article.
"It's our second muse!"
Our prophecy seems to be coming true, and we make our way back to the tent.
Tomorrow we leave.
I wake up, toasty warm and surprisingly comfortable. The bed of rocks seems to have conformed to my body in the night and makes a perfect mattress. I look over at Aaron, who has his emergency blanket wrapped around his feet and the hood of my puffy coat on his head. The tent is starting to feel like home. I get out and pee and note that it has rained overnight. In our perfect spot under the overhang we hardly noticed.
The sky is still a little grey, but I can feel the sun making an effort to appear. We make no effort to hurry, but by a little before nine everything is packed away, our bags are hidden in the bushes, and we are making our way towards Le Bec de Sormiou with only what we will need to climb. The day before I had shown Aaron how to coil the climbing rope into a backpack. He wears it now and I carry the small second's pack with the topo, a bottle of water and some cashews.
It takes longer than we expect to get to Le Bec, and after a bit of downclimbing we find ourselves meters from the ocean on a strange sort of beach, looking at the departures of the first climbs.
"Do you see any bolts?"
"Not really."
"I saw one way up there," I point about fifteen meters above us.
Between us and the first bolt is a series of steep pockets and cavernous holes. We see old, tattered bits of climbing rope threaded through some of the tunnels, and I deduce that this must be the beginning of "Antecime". It looks wet and greasy. The pitches above look slightly cleaner, but not amazing."Wanna keep going?" Aaron asks me.
"Sure."
"This doesn't look too great to me."
To get to the beginning of the other routes, we will have to traverse out left and climb a short approach pitch graded somewhere around 4+.
We traverse the rocky "beach" and arrive at the approach pitches.
"I'll go." I say. The pitch is quick and easy, though a little bit wet, and at the anchors at the top I put Aaron on belay.
"Uh, it's gonna take me a few minutes to get ready." He informs me. I watch the waves.
Once begun, it doesn't take Aaron more than half a minute to climb to where I am, and he continues around to the left, still on belay, to find our route.
He finds some anchors and I join him, and though we are still unsure about our location, we decide to go for it. Aaron leads the first pitch, which should be 4+. It feels about right.
At the top of
the first pitch, I look up at the next one. It should be 5c, and it looks like another steep, greasy flake. The movements are neat, despite the slime-covered rock, and it's quickly over. I look to the right of our route and see some scary pitons protecting a thin 6c. I decide we're on the right route. The next pitch is a long 5b, and Aaron takes it. Seconding, I am impressed with Aaron's lead. For a 5b, it's exceptionally thin and very balancey. The bolts are adequate, but not generous. As I arrive the belay, I look up and examine the 5c above. It's soaked."Why do I always get the wet pitches?" I demand.
"Just lucky, I guess."
After some scary slab moves on wet limestone and an airy traverse to the anchors, I belay Aaron up to the large ledge. By this time, we're more than 100 meters above the ocean and the exposure is amazing. We're one pitch from the top and I'm thrilled.
"You're up!" I say to Aaron as he arrives.
"I think you better take this last pitch. I'm beginning to feel the effects of climbing more in the last week than I'm used to."
"Come on, it's only 5a. It looks great." I tell him.
"You sure it's only 5a?"
"Pretty sure. We could check the topo."
We do, and it's not.
"Shit, it's 5c. Good thing we checked."
I drink some water and give the pack back to Aaron.The last pitch is amazing, if a little sparsely bolted. Near the top where it gets steep I see a maillon rapide hanging from a bolt. Somebody had to escape the route, by the looks of it, only about 10 meters from the top. Must be the crux, I think to myself.
I get to the bolt, clip it, and look at my options. The holds are all there, but they're a little far apart. I stretch and grab the jug, excited to have made it, and sprint for the finish.
As I top out, the wind blasts me in the face. It's coming from the West, and we've been sheltered the entire climb. I'm thrilled and let out a yell. I put Aaron on belay and bring him up.
"Welcome to the top!" I say.
We put on some extra clothes, drink some water, and eat some cashews above the Mediterranean.
"Perfect belay ledges!" I exclaim. "Perfect belay ledges on every pitch."
"Classic."
"Did you see that quick link?" Aaron asks me.
"Yeah! I guess somebody had to rappel off. I tried to take the thing off, but it was fused shut."
"Must've been the crux."
We walk down, and as we're discussing our options for the afternoon, a storm rolls in fast and hard. The blue skies are replaced by angry storm clouds, and as we huddle under a trash shelter sorting out gear in the village, a woman offers us a ride back to Marseille. An exceptionally nice offer, but our tent and all of our gear are still in the bushes."Non, merci. Mais c'est très gentil!" I tell the woman, and she shake her head and gets in her car.
Instead, we walk back to the overhang, pitch the tent and take refuge for the afternoon. The storm clears as quickly as it arrived, and we decided to walk to Marseille, to see what kind of exit we're in for the next morning. It only takes an hour to get to town, what looks like a predominantly North-African suburb. We laugh as a sports car skids around the corner with the sign marked "Mosquée" and shake our heads at the teenagers riding wheelies on their mopeds. Suddenly, we find ourselves in front of a shopping center.
"Let's go the the mall!" Aaron says.
"Okay."
"If we were 13, this would be AWESOME."
But we do go in, and it turns out to be a supermarket. After picking up more cheese and bread and a glass from which to drink Pastis, we head back towards camp. In front of the store we see an advertisement for a magazine called "Votre Beauté". The cover features a redheaded model, and she's topless.
"Hold on a second." Aaron says. He's surprised by the public nudity, and no doubt interested in the feature article.
"It's our second muse!"
Our prophecy seems to be coming true, and we make our way back to the tent.
Tomorrow we leave.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Les Calanques: Day 3
Day 3 - Tuesday - La Paroi Noire to Sourmiou
I wake up, drier than expected. As I get out of the tent and walk around, I note that despite its flaws our campsite is extremely well hidden. We hang wet clothes on the bushes in anticipation of the sun and take stock. The cliff is wet from the rain but looks amazing. The rock is a dark grey, compact and beautiful.
The sun makes a tentative appearance and we decide to climb. The tent is so well hidden that we leave it pitched to dry, surrounded by our wet clothes.
"What do you want to do?" Aaron asked me.
"Let's start with this one, nice and easy" I say, pointing at a route on the topo. It's the original route, called La Paroi Noire. It consists of four easy pitches following the most obvious weakness right up the middle of the face.
"Let's bring the little backpack with an empty water bottle," says Aaron, "and I'll walk from the top back to the trailhead to get more water."
The line was first climbed in 1941. While France was occupied, notes Aaron. But not the South, I correct him.
Maybe this is why the French army gets such a bad rap: all of the brave Frenchmen were in the South, putting up rock climbs over the Mediterranean with pitons and hob-nailed boots.
After we finish Aaron goes for water and I relax at the tent. It is hot now, just as predicted, and I'm sweating in my t-shirt. Perfect. While we climbed it seems that the cliff has become crowded.
Our goal for the afternoon is another four-pitch line called "La Chaloupée". The name means "The Swaying". But at the base we see a pair of serious-looking Frenchmen gearing up.
"Excusez-moi. Vous faites laquelle?" I ask.
"La Chaloupée."
"They're on our route," I tell Aaron.
A quick glance at the guidebook reveals a line to the right.
"Looks like a 4b, then two long pitches of 5c."
"Beauty. Let's do it." He looks at the guidebook again. "I'll probably give the last two pitches to you."
"Okay."
We gear up, tie in, and start off. The first pitch goes quickly, but the the party to our left seems to be having some trouble. I'm not listening to their conversation, but there seems to be some question as to whether or not they are at the right belay.
At the anchor, I'm not totally sure that we're on route either. I start off on the only obvious options for a second pitch. It's a steep, greasy flake with horrible feet, and feels pretty stiff for 5c. I get to the belay, breathing hard, and belay Aaron up the pitch. I look up, and the next pitch looks a little easier, the line of bolts following a weakness up and left.
But as Aaron
puts me on belay and I start up, I note with dismay that the line does not follow the weakness, but instead follows a rather spaced-out line of bolts directly up the clean face. It's beautiful, following small but positive face holds and technical footwork for 35 meters on amazing rock, almost to the top of the cliff.
I arrived at the next belay, surprised. If we had been on route, this should have been the last pitch. Instead I find myself on a huge belay ledge with what looks like a short pitch of relatively easy climbing above. I bring up Aaron and inform him that the last pitch is his.
"Your turn." I say.
It turns out to be short, as expected. There is only one bolt, at the 5.9 crux, and the rest is super easy all the way to the top.
We walk off, I retrieve the topo from the base of the climb, and we pack up our things. I look at the topo one more time, and discover that the party who was doing "La Chaloupée" ended up off route and at the belay of the climb we had decided to do, "L'eperon de droite." Instead we had done the first two pitches of "La Bavaroise" (a 4b for Aaron followed by a 6a for me) and the last two pitches of "Andromede" (a long 6b for me and a short 5c for Aaron). No wonder it felt stiff.
We've decided to go to Sormiou tonight, with the objective tomorrow of climbing one of many long routes over the ocean. It takes all evening to get to the next calanque, and as we descend towards the village we note that the cave I had spotted in the topo is fairly removed from
anywhere we want to climb. From a vantage point we scan the large cave and decide that it does not appear hospitable. Our adventure the night before has instilled a certain urgency in finding a good spot, and we begin to scan frantically. We examine a few options and find nothing, but just before the village I see a small side trail. I check it out, and it's perfect. There is a mostly-level bed of pebbles underneath an overhanging cliff and a wall of bushes about shoulder height hiding the perfect rectangle of pebbles from the trail. It seems to be exactly the dimensions of my tent.
"Hey, check this out." I say to Aaron. "Is this good enough for you?"
"Does the pope shit in the woods?"
"What?"
"It's a mixed metaphor. Is the pope Catholic, does a bear shit in the woods."
"Oh."
"It means yes."
We hide our packs and make our way to the village. It's not quite dark, and we decide to check out the beach.
The beach is mostly rock and the ocean pounds rhythmically against the boat ramp. We sit down nearby and look at the waves. As I look at the photos that Aaron has taken on the trip, I notice one of a painting in the Louvre. It depicts three women, naked. One, a redhead, is turned away from the viewer and has especially rosy cheeks. I ask Aaron about it.
"It's the three graces." He tells me. "There were a million paintings of the three graces, but I really liked this one because one is blonde, one is brunette, and one is a redhead."
"And they're naked," I add.
To our right three people come down a rocky trail carrying large packs. There is a man and two women, one blond, one brunette, and the brunette appears much younger.
"That's totally mom, dad, and daughter out for a hike." I tell Aaron.
But as they get closer we notice that they are wearing harnesses.
"Cool. Other climbers."
They pass behind us and I think we've seen the last of them, but in a few moments they return without the harnesses, instead carrying soap and towels. They approach the beach and begin to strip.
The man is first. He's built like a climber, maybe a little short, and once down to his underwear he goes in the water with what looks like body wash. He starts to scrub, obviously cold. The brunette seems to be shy, though she has no reason to be, but the blonde, unreasonably thin and wearing dreadlocks, takes everything off and jumps headfirst into the water.
"I love that. Take a bath in the Mediterranean."
"I wonder if they're camping?"
"I saw a VW van in the parking lot." Aaron tells me.
"That must be it."
They continue to bathe, and it occurs to one of us: "That's the first muse!"
"We're totally gonna see all three on this trip."
"Cool."
I wake up, drier than expected. As I get out of the tent and walk around, I note that despite its flaws our campsite is extremely well hidden. We hang wet clothes on the bushes in anticipation of the sun and take stock. The cliff is wet from the rain but looks amazing. The rock is a dark grey, compact and beautiful.
The sun makes a tentative appearance and we decide to climb. The tent is so well hidden that we leave it pitched to dry, surrounded by our wet clothes.
"What do you want to do?" Aaron asked me.
"Let's start with this one, nice and easy" I say, pointing at a route on the topo. It's the original route, called La Paroi Noire. It consists of four easy pitches following the most obvious weakness right up the middle of the face.
"Let's bring the little backpack with an empty water bottle," says Aaron, "and I'll walk from the top back to the trailhead to get more water."
The line was first climbed in 1941. While France was occupied, notes Aaron. But not the South, I correct him.
Maybe this is why the French army gets such a bad rap: all of the brave Frenchmen were in the South, putting up rock climbs over the Mediterranean with pitons and hob-nailed boots.After we finish Aaron goes for water and I relax at the tent. It is hot now, just as predicted, and I'm sweating in my t-shirt. Perfect. While we climbed it seems that the cliff has become crowded.
Our goal for the afternoon is another four-pitch line called "La Chaloupée". The name means "The Swaying". But at the base we see a pair of serious-looking Frenchmen gearing up.
"Excusez-moi. Vous faites laquelle?" I ask.
"La Chaloupée."
"They're on our route," I tell Aaron.
A quick glance at the guidebook reveals a line to the right.
"Looks like a 4b, then two long pitches of 5c."
"Beauty. Let's do it." He looks at the guidebook again. "I'll probably give the last two pitches to you."
"Okay."
We gear up, tie in, and start off. The first pitch goes quickly, but the the party to our left seems to be having some trouble. I'm not listening to their conversation, but there seems to be some question as to whether or not they are at the right belay.
At the anchor, I'm not totally sure that we're on route either. I start off on the only obvious options for a second pitch. It's a steep, greasy flake with horrible feet, and feels pretty stiff for 5c. I get to the belay, breathing hard, and belay Aaron up the pitch. I look up, and the next pitch looks a little easier, the line of bolts following a weakness up and left.
But as Aaron
puts me on belay and I start up, I note with dismay that the line does not follow the weakness, but instead follows a rather spaced-out line of bolts directly up the clean face. It's beautiful, following small but positive face holds and technical footwork for 35 meters on amazing rock, almost to the top of the cliff.I arrived at the next belay, surprised. If we had been on route, this should have been the last pitch. Instead I find myself on a huge belay ledge with what looks like a short pitch of relatively easy climbing above. I bring up Aaron and inform him that the last pitch is his.
"Your turn." I say.
It turns out to be short, as expected. There is only one bolt, at the 5.9 crux, and the rest is super easy all the way to the top.
We walk off, I retrieve the topo from the base of the climb, and we pack up our things. I look at the topo one more time, and discover that the party who was doing "La Chaloupée" ended up off route and at the belay of the climb we had decided to do, "L'eperon de droite." Instead we had done the first two pitches of "La Bavaroise" (a 4b for Aaron followed by a 6a for me) and the last two pitches of "Andromede" (a long 6b for me and a short 5c for Aaron). No wonder it felt stiff.
We've decided to go to Sormiou tonight, with the objective tomorrow of climbing one of many long routes over the ocean. It takes all evening to get to the next calanque, and as we descend towards the village we note that the cave I had spotted in the topo is fairly removed from
anywhere we want to climb. From a vantage point we scan the large cave and decide that it does not appear hospitable. Our adventure the night before has instilled a certain urgency in finding a good spot, and we begin to scan frantically. We examine a few options and find nothing, but just before the village I see a small side trail. I check it out, and it's perfect. There is a mostly-level bed of pebbles underneath an overhanging cliff and a wall of bushes about shoulder height hiding the perfect rectangle of pebbles from the trail. It seems to be exactly the dimensions of my tent."Hey, check this out." I say to Aaron. "Is this good enough for you?"
"Does the pope shit in the woods?"
"What?"
"It's a mixed metaphor. Is the pope Catholic, does a bear shit in the woods."
"Oh."
"It means yes."
We hide our packs and make our way to the village. It's not quite dark, and we decide to check out the beach.
The beach is mostly rock and the ocean pounds rhythmically against the boat ramp. We sit down nearby and look at the waves. As I look at the photos that Aaron has taken on the trip, I notice one of a painting in the Louvre. It depicts three women, naked. One, a redhead, is turned away from the viewer and has especially rosy cheeks. I ask Aaron about it.
"It's the three graces." He tells me. "There were a million paintings of the three graces, but I really liked this one because one is blonde, one is brunette, and one is a redhead."
"And they're naked," I add.
To our right three people come down a rocky trail carrying large packs. There is a man and two women, one blond, one brunette, and the brunette appears much younger.
"That's totally mom, dad, and daughter out for a hike." I tell Aaron.
But as they get closer we notice that they are wearing harnesses.
"Cool. Other climbers."
They pass behind us and I think we've seen the last of them, but in a few moments they return without the harnesses, instead carrying soap and towels. They approach the beach and begin to strip.
The man is first. He's built like a climber, maybe a little short, and once down to his underwear he goes in the water with what looks like body wash. He starts to scrub, obviously cold. The brunette seems to be shy, though she has no reason to be, but the blonde, unreasonably thin and wearing dreadlocks, takes everything off and jumps headfirst into the water.
"I love that. Take a bath in the Mediterranean."
"I wonder if they're camping?"
"I saw a VW van in the parking lot." Aaron tells me.
"That must be it."
They continue to bathe, and it occurs to one of us: "That's the first muse!"
"We're totally gonna see all three on this trip."
"Cool."
Thursday, March 4, 2010
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 g
ot 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."
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 g
ot 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."
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Les Calanques: Day 1
I'm back, but The Anarchy Breakfast is still on vacation. Look for Part II of "The Journey Home" next week. Instead, I thought I'd do some actual blogging between now and then, with a little trip report from climbing with Aaron in Les Calanques. It's mostly true.
Day 1 - Sunday Morning - Montpellier
We are looking for a grocery store.
"I forgot about Sunday mornings in France. There's actually a law against big stores being open on Sunday, except by government approval. Hey, look at that, Monoprix's open."
We go in. "What do you need?" I ask Aaron.
"I dunno. Some sandwich cookies. Whatever strikes my fancy."
We left with four packages of sandwich cookies, two baguettes, a box of wine, a bottle of Pastis, some cashews, dry sausage, and a hunk of Roquefort. "This stuff is like $50 a pound in the states!" Aaron exclaimed, holding up the 2 Euro package. We were ready for adventure.
The train ride to Marseille went quickly and shortly after noon we are navigating the Marseille public transit system. I'm squinting at a map at the bus stop, trying to discern whether or not we're on the right sight of the street.
"Where are you headed?" A gentle and very American voice asks me. I turn and it's a short blond girl who looks like she might blow away.
"I think we're going to Callelongue."
"Are you guys hikers?" She looks at my backpack.
"Climbers."
"Oh! The climbing there is really amazing!"
"Are you a climber?"
"No." She apologizes. "You should take the 21 to Luminy, though. I think Luminy goes the farthest south."
We plan to, in a couple of days.
"You must be American." I insist.
"No, Canadian."
"Where in Canada?"
"It's kind of a small town, you might not know it. It's called Nelson?"
"No way!" Aaron pipes up. "I lived there for a few months. Nelson's great."
"You must be a student, then." I say.
"No, a nanny."
I'm clearly not very good at this.
"Well, have a good climb!" She says, walking away. I turn to Aaron.
"That's the tightest pair of Carhartt's I've ever seen."
"Yeah. I didn't know they made 'em like that."
On bus #19, an old man sees me squinting at the list of stops.
"Vous déscendez où?"
"Au terminus, je pense."
"Madgregue de Montredon." He assures me.
"Oui. Et après on va prendre le 20 pour Callelongue."
"Vous allez dans les Goudes, c'est ça?"
"Oui, c'est ça."
"Le 20, il va très peu les Dimanches. À peu près toutes les heures."
"S'il y a pas de bus, on marche."
He rolls his eyes, wishes us, "Bon courage," and gets off at his stop.
We have no trouble getting on the 20 and started our hike from Callelongue into the rocky hillsides covered in cliffs. In one, a large cave is prominent.
We set up camp in the cave. With a roof, lots of space, and a relatively flat and soft dirt floor, and an opening pointing away from town and well-hidden from any passers-by, this would prove to be our best camping spot of the trip.
Stay tuned for day 2 tomorrow.
Day 1 - Sunday Morning - Montpellier
We are looking for a grocery store.
"I forgot about Sunday mornings in France. There's actually a law against big stores being open on Sunday, except by government approval. Hey, look at that, Monoprix's open."
We go in. "What do you need?" I ask Aaron.
"I dunno. Some sandwich cookies. Whatever strikes my fancy."
We left with four packages of sandwich cookies, two baguettes, a box of wine, a bottle of Pastis, some cashews, dry sausage, and a hunk of Roquefort. "This stuff is like $50 a pound in the states!" Aaron exclaimed, holding up the 2 Euro package. We were ready for adventure.
The train ride to Marseille went quickly and shortly after noon we are navigating the Marseille public transit system. I'm squinting at a map at the bus stop, trying to discern whether or not we're on the right sight of the street.
"Where are you headed?" A gentle and very American voice asks me. I turn and it's a short blond girl who looks like she might blow away.
"I think we're going to Callelongue."
"Are you guys hikers?" She looks at my backpack.
"Climbers."
"Oh! The climbing there is really amazing!"
"Are you a climber?"
"No." She apologizes. "You should take the 21 to Luminy, though. I think Luminy goes the farthest south."
We plan to, in a couple of days.
"You must be American." I insist.
"No, Canadian."
"Where in Canada?"
"It's kind of a small town, you might not know it. It's called Nelson?"
"No way!" Aaron pipes up. "I lived there for a few months. Nelson's great."
"You must be a student, then." I say.
"No, a nanny."
I'm clearly not very good at this.
"Well, have a good climb!" She says, walking away. I turn to Aaron.
"That's the tightest pair of Carhartt's I've ever seen."
"Yeah. I didn't know they made 'em like that."
On bus #19, an old man sees me squinting at the list of stops.
"Vous déscendez où?"
"Au terminus, je pense."
"Madgregue de Montredon." He assures me.
"Oui. Et après on va prendre le 20 pour Callelongue."
"Vous allez dans les Goudes, c'est ça?"
"Oui, c'est ça."
"Le 20, il va très peu les Dimanches. À peu près toutes les heures."
"S'il y a pas de bus, on marche."
He rolls his eyes, wishes us, "Bon courage," and gets off at his stop.
We have no trouble getting on the 20 and started our hike from Callelongue into the rocky hillsides covered in cliffs. In one, a large cave is prominent.
"There's our hotel." I say. "I got the beta from one of my climbing friends. Fabrice told me, 'Là, tu peux dormir tranquil.'"
Our first climb is the four-pitch Arete Victor Martin above a couple enjoying a romantic lunch. "Man, that looks great." Aaron says. "They've got a bottle of wine, some nice food. They worked up a little sweat getting up here, now they're enjoying a great view. I hope they do it twice tonight."
The climb had been re-equipped in the early nineties and we find the bolts to be in good condition. The rock is far from perfect, but serves as a nice introduction to the climbing in Les Calanques and it's cool to be able to summit a formation on the first day. We do one more pitch of 6a and call it a good afternoon.We set up camp in the cave. With a roof, lots of space, and a relatively flat and soft dirt floor, and an opening pointing away from town and well-hidden from any passers-by, this would prove to be our best camping spot of the trip.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Vingrau / Tautavel
The original plan for the weekend was to climb at Vingrau, a huge cliff known for its bulletproof slabs and classic multipitch. However, though Vingrau gets sun in the afternoon, it is also exposed to the wind that rips down the Pyrénées, and the comination of 3* temperatures and 35km wind made climbing there, at least in February, impossible. Instead, we went across the valley and climbed at Tautavel. The first day we climbed in a neat gorge, the second day on a lovely south-facing slab. We stayed at a rural "gite" that took us hours to find in the dark.
Thanks to Fabrice for all of the pictures of me.
This is a few of us on Saturday morning in Montpellier, getting ready to take off:
Here are some pictures from the gorge on the first day. We did some climbing here, but it was on easy slabs in the shade. This place must be an amazing summer crag.
And here are a few photos from the gorgeous slab on Sunday. Fabrice took a cool sequence of photos of me making an accidental attempt at 7a+. I made it to the third bolt before I called it quits.
And here's the view from the crag, looking down the valley.
It was a magnificent area, and I'd love to go back when the weather is a little more favorable at Vingrau proper.
I'll be out of town next Wednesday, so this is the last blog post for two weeks. I'll be back in March with more news and photos and part II of this week's playlist.
Speaking of which:
"The Journey Home, Part I"
1 These Old Shoes - Deer Tick
2 Love Me Through - Port O'Brien
3 This Wind - The Tallest Man On Earth
4 That Western Skyline - Dawes
5 Mona And Emmy - Frontier Ruckus
6 Ticket Taker - The Low Anthem
7 Re: Stacks - Bon Iver
8 Ancient Questions - Mount Eerie
Download here.
Every one of these recordings comes from a Daytrotter session. Daytrotter has been putting up some amazing stuff lately, notably sessions from Frontier Ruckus and Mount Eerie, both of which are featured here. Check it out.
See you in two weeks!
Thanks to Fabrice for all of the pictures of me.
This is a few of us on Saturday morning in Montpellier, getting ready to take off:
Here are some pictures from the gorge on the first day. We did some climbing here, but it was on easy slabs in the shade. This place must be an amazing summer crag.
And here are a few photos from the gorgeous slab on Sunday. Fabrice took a cool sequence of photos of me making an accidental attempt at 7a+. I made it to the third bolt before I called it quits.
And here's the view from the crag, looking down the valley.
It was a magnificent area, and I'd love to go back when the weather is a little more favorable at Vingrau proper.
I'll be out of town next Wednesday, so this is the last blog post for two weeks. I'll be back in March with more news and photos and part II of this week's playlist.
Speaking of which:
"The Journey Home, Part I"
1 These Old Shoes - Deer Tick
2 Love Me Through - Port O'Brien
3 This Wind - The Tallest Man On Earth
4 That Western Skyline - Dawes
5 Mona And Emmy - Frontier Ruckus
6 Ticket Taker - The Low Anthem
7 Re: Stacks - Bon Iver
8 Ancient Questions - Mount Eerie
Download here.
Every one of these recordings comes from a Daytrotter session. Daytrotter has been putting up some amazing stuff lately, notably sessions from Frontier Ruckus and Mount Eerie, both of which are featured here. Check it out.
See you in two weeks!
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Ready To Listen
Last weekend, as planned, I went climbing. I even took some pictures! Saturday was at La Clape and it rained on and off all day until about 4, when the weather decided to chase us off for good. Sunday at Seynes was brilliant, though. It was sunny and probably in the 60's. Turns out that sometimes February in France is about like July in Montana.
Here's Adrien, warming up on a 6b that would be one of my better climbs that day.
Here's Fabrice, making his way out of the muscly start of a 7a+ onto the impossibly blank "slab" to the chains. Behind him a shirtless hardman is working a famous 8a+ called "dinosaure".
Here's Fabrice again, making the second clip of a two pitch 7b/7a+ called "Masculin Feminin". 35m of madness linked together.
The rock at Seynes is absolutely impeccable. Seamless, bulletproof, overhanging limestone that seems to have been crafted with French sport climbers in mind. We were super lucky to have good weather, and I'm hoping the sun will be back today (I'm going climbing at Thaurac this afternoon) and this weekend, for the Pyrénées Orientales.
In other news, this week's playlist is called "Ready To Listen". Two new tracks bookmark the playlist, and as per usual there's a story going on in there.
"Ready To Listen"
1 Harmonix - Surfer Blood - Astrocoast
2 Fever Brooks - Other Girls - Perfect Cities
3 Water Turns Back - Cloud Nothings - Turning On
4 Obstacle 1 - Interpol - Turn On The Bright Lights
5 Oh What A Feeling - The Organ - Thieves
6 This Modern Love - Bloc Party - Silent Alarm
7 Goodnight Laura - Spoon - Transference
Download here.
Enjoy!
Edit: Fixed link. Sorry! Mediafire's been flaky lately, I'll make sure to do more testing next week before I post the link.
Here's Adrien, warming up on a 6b that would be one of my better climbs that day.
Here's Fabrice, making his way out of the muscly start of a 7a+ onto the impossibly blank "slab" to the chains. Behind him a shirtless hardman is working a famous 8a+ called "dinosaure".
Here's Fabrice again, making the second clip of a two pitch 7b/7a+ called "Masculin Feminin". 35m of madness linked together.
The rock at Seynes is absolutely impeccable. Seamless, bulletproof, overhanging limestone that seems to have been crafted with French sport climbers in mind. We were super lucky to have good weather, and I'm hoping the sun will be back today (I'm going climbing at Thaurac this afternoon) and this weekend, for the Pyrénées Orientales.In other news, this week's playlist is called "Ready To Listen". Two new tracks bookmark the playlist, and as per usual there's a story going on in there.
"Ready To Listen"
1 Harmonix - Surfer Blood - Astrocoast
2 Fever Brooks - Other Girls - Perfect Cities
3 Water Turns Back - Cloud Nothings - Turning On
4 Obstacle 1 - Interpol - Turn On The Bright Lights
5 Oh What A Feeling - The Organ - Thieves
6 This Modern Love - Bloc Party - Silent Alarm
7 Goodnight Laura - Spoon - Transference
Download here.
Enjoy!
Edit: Fixed link. Sorry! Mediafire's been flaky lately, I'll make sure to do more testing next week before I post the link.
Friday, February 5, 2010
The Moment
A few points of news:
- On Wednesday I was finally able to get my "Carte de Sejour", meaning that after living in France for approximately five months, I'm legally allowed to be here. Valid beginning the 20th of August, 2009. In other news, the ID photo is great.
- It was sunny all weekend and I went climbing at Saint Bauzille de Montmel, ticking off a couple of 6b's. I would have liked to climb Wednesday afternoon, but I had to get the card. I have found a partner for Wednesdays, though, and I'm excited to get out and climb during the week.
- It rained yesterday, and today the sky is clear and blue. I might go to the Zoo. I am generally in good spirits.
- On Saturday I am going to La Clape, which is a massif of limestone near Narbonne, an hour to the South. On Sunday I'll be at Seynes, another nice area about an hour to the Northeast. On Wednesday I'll be climbing with Florence, and the next weekend I hope to be in Les Pyrenées Orientales, climbing some multipitch. I'll try to take some photos.
- Despite my bloggy tardiness, I did make a playlist the week. This week's show is even more narrative and a little less music, somewhere in between college radio and "The News From Lake Wobegon". I'm not sure how I like it, and I think maybe next week I'll be a little heavier on the music. Let me know what you think.
The Moment
1 Love Cry - Four Tet - There Is Love In You
2 Giving Up The Gun - Vampire Weekend - Contra
3 Osaka Loop Line - Discovery - LP
4 Little Secrets - Passion Pit - Manners
5 Lover Of Mine - Beach House - Teen Dream
Download here.
-Edit: fixed link
- On Wednesday I was finally able to get my "Carte de Sejour", meaning that after living in France for approximately five months, I'm legally allowed to be here. Valid beginning the 20th of August, 2009. In other news, the ID photo is great.
- It was sunny all weekend and I went climbing at Saint Bauzille de Montmel, ticking off a couple of 6b's. I would have liked to climb Wednesday afternoon, but I had to get the card. I have found a partner for Wednesdays, though, and I'm excited to get out and climb during the week.
- It rained yesterday, and today the sky is clear and blue. I might go to the Zoo. I am generally in good spirits.
- On Saturday I am going to La Clape, which is a massif of limestone near Narbonne, an hour to the South. On Sunday I'll be at Seynes, another nice area about an hour to the Northeast. On Wednesday I'll be climbing with Florence, and the next weekend I hope to be in Les Pyrenées Orientales, climbing some multipitch. I'll try to take some photos.
- Despite my bloggy tardiness, I did make a playlist the week. This week's show is even more narrative and a little less music, somewhere in between college radio and "The News From Lake Wobegon". I'm not sure how I like it, and I think maybe next week I'll be a little heavier on the music. Let me know what you think.
The Moment
1 Love Cry - Four Tet - There Is Love In You
2 Giving Up The Gun - Vampire Weekend - Contra
3 Osaka Loop Line - Discovery - LP
4 Little Secrets - Passion Pit - Manners
5 Lover Of Mine - Beach House - Teen Dream
Download here.
-Edit: fixed link
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Quiet Night, Noisy Head
"We'll see what happens."
I wrote that more than a month ago, and we have seen what has happened: nothing, as far as blogging is concerned. I have discovered a magical relationship in which the awesomeness of my life is inversely proportional to the amount of time I spend staring at computer screen. The less time I spend on the computer, the more awesome my life is, and the less awesome my life is, the more likely I am to sit down in front of a computer. Suffice it to say that my vacation was perfect, and I was too busy having a great time with great people to update my blog.
But no more! I'm back in France, and while I wouldn't say that my life is not awesome, there's definitely less on the schedule. As a result I present to you the latest Anarchy Breakfast, the first of the new year:
"Quiet Night, Noisy Head"
1 Animals Need Animals - Frontier Ruckus - The Orion Songbook
2 The Latter Days - Frontier Ruckus - The Orion Songbook
3 Wall Around Baghdad - Anthony Da Costa - Typical American Tragedy
4 A Thousand Men - Joe Pug - In The Meantime EP
5 Wings - Josh Ritter - Hello Starling
6 Hell On Earth - Deer Tick - Born on Flag Day
7 The Gardener - The Tallest Man On Earth - Shallow Graves
8 When The Ship Comes In - Bob Dylan - The Times They Are A-Changin'
Download here.
The sun is shining, and according to my formula I need to get off of my computer and go enjoy it. Expect another Anarchy Breakfast next week, and be sure to get on my case if I forget!
I wrote that more than a month ago, and we have seen what has happened: nothing, as far as blogging is concerned. I have discovered a magical relationship in which the awesomeness of my life is inversely proportional to the amount of time I spend staring at computer screen. The less time I spend on the computer, the more awesome my life is, and the less awesome my life is, the more likely I am to sit down in front of a computer. Suffice it to say that my vacation was perfect, and I was too busy having a great time with great people to update my blog.
But no more! I'm back in France, and while I wouldn't say that my life is not awesome, there's definitely less on the schedule. As a result I present to you the latest Anarchy Breakfast, the first of the new year:
"Quiet Night, Noisy Head"
1 Animals Need Animals - Frontier Ruckus - The Orion Songbook
2 The Latter Days - Frontier Ruckus - The Orion Songbook
3 Wall Around Baghdad - Anthony Da Costa - Typical American Tragedy
4 A Thousand Men - Joe Pug - In The Meantime EP
5 Wings - Josh Ritter - Hello Starling
6 Hell On Earth - Deer Tick - Born on Flag Day
7 The Gardener - The Tallest Man On Earth - Shallow Graves
8 When The Ship Comes In - Bob Dylan - The Times They Are A-Changin'
Download here.
The sun is shining, and according to my formula I need to get off of my computer and go enjoy it. Expect another Anarchy Breakfast next week, and be sure to get on my case if I forget!
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