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."

Les Calanques: Day 2

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

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

It is the first day without coffee.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"She was right."

It is getting colder and wetter by the minute.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

"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.

Stay tuned for day 2 tomorrow.

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!

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.

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

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!