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
Friday, April 23, 2010
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."
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