What kind of climber is c1sc0
I started climbing in 1989 after watching Patrick Edlinger's movies like La vie au bout des doigts & Opera Vertical. In reality, it was my neighbour who introduced me to bouldering on a one-week trip to Fontainebleau, France. Yes, my first climbing experience was bouldering & though I spent a lot of time sport & ice climbing I always came back to the source of it all: pure movement as can only be experienced in the most concentrated form of climbing: bouldering.
The area was Trois Pignons, the time was a mid-August summer week in 1990 and the sun was burning. I was a bumbling newbie greasing off slippery sandstone rock following an older & much stronger climber. I managed to scare the wits out of myself on high stuff, I found out first-hand that some jugs are beloved by wasps to build their nests & my hard Asolo rock shoes were absolutely not suited for bouldering. But I loved it. The smell of rosin blending with the sweet scent of the pine forest around us. The grace of the boulders' shapes. The screams of encouragement as we were giving everything. The untold rule of not talking about grades. Bouldering was instant climbing & concentrated fun. We had one of these small portable yellow 'sports' radios blaring The Pixies. This monkey sure was in heaven.
Although my first climbing partner'd stop climbing actively a few years later I continued into the shameful world of Lycra tights, bandanas, long hair & heavy climbing shoes. At about the same time an indoor climbing hall opened in my hometown. The first few years I spent a lot of time climing on limestone sport crags in Belgium & the south of France.
One of the reasons I continued climbing at 16 was because of skateboarding-related shoulder injuries. I kept dislocating my shoulders & my doctors gave me a brilliant excuse to climb more: "You're too skinny, son, you need to develop some shoulder muscle". So I did. Skinny boy gone. Girls flocking around muscle boy (in mydreams) ... One problem: my shoulders kept dislocating, now with the added inconvenience of not being able to pop them back in myself due to the bulging convulsing muscle mass surrounding the shoulder. This even happened at night while I was asleep. After a while each pop included a free ride to hospital where they'd hold me down with 3 guys and ask the toughest staff member to 'manipulate' my shoulder back into place. Ouch. But I'm gratful to these 100kg+ mammoths that have helped me so many times. I got surgery on my right shoulder at the age of 18 and on the left one 10 years later. Everything's fine now but I still wake up at night in agony thinking I've dislocated my shoulder once again.
In between the injuries I got in a lot of climbing time & managed to become quite proficient at freeclimbing but by the mid-nineties something was missing. I'd done some 'hard' climbs, spent a year climbing lots of solo stuff close to Namur & seen some really nice crags in Europe. I was also increasingly getting frustrated with the climbing scene. I've always been kind of a solitary guy. The beauty of the solitary climbing experience is what attracted me to climbing in the first place.
At the time Fontainebleau was respected as a climbing place but was treated more or less as a stopover on the way to the south of France. It was certainly not a weekend destination because of the 4 hour drive. I think a contributing factor to its relative inpopularity was the steepness of its grading system. That stuff was hard. Why spend so much energy on a few moves when you could go & do an 'easy' 8 in the south of France? So Fontainebleau was a place you'd spend a few days maximum. Remember, sportclimbing was the cool thing to do back then & people'd rather spend time on real crags than on 'merely' boulders. But I still remember the great week I spent there in 1990 and in my last year of high school we had spent two weeks bumming on the Cuvier campground. Great memories. So it was time to go back.
Weekend after weekend after weekend. In the beginning I'd often drive alone down there if I didn't find anyone to join me. In fact I enjoyed exporing those forests on my own so much that I secretly wished nobody'd come next weekend. Just me, a little mat to clean my feet & a pair of climbing shoes. I learned the good time for bouldering is winter. I learned that even in the worst weather you can always get in a little climbing. I climbed in rain. I climbed in snow. I climbed in Cuvier on the threshold from 1999 to 2000. I spent a lot of time exploring new corners of the forest, finding new places to sleep at night, just enjoying this magic environment. I spent the best years of my life in this forest to become a solitary 'hardcore' boulderer.
Then once more, things changed. At the turn of the 21st century bouldering became insanely popular & now hordes of boulderers trek to Fontainebleau from all over Europe every weekend. And that's ok. Even though I've seen the climbing world change a lot in these last fifteen years on thing struck me recently: all of these fads (sport, bouldering, ice, trad) are of no consequence. If you plan things carefully you can still find your solitude in climbing. Just don't go to Trois Pignons on an Easter weekend.
Partly due to my recurring injuries I started looking at a climbing art that is a little less explosive and stressful on the body. Right now my thing is ice climbing even though a few years ago I considered it too crazy and too cold for my tastes. Sure, it's about endurance and strength but at least I know it's easier on my shoulders. And there's no competition in ice. Climbs of all grades are cool. & part of the fun is roaming around the mountain environment just like part of the fun in Fontainebleau was being in the forest.
So, what kind of a climber am I? The answer to this question is always in flux. I'd love to do some hard bouldering again without getting injured. I'd love to explore the mountains on ski a little more, maybe participate in the Derby de la Meije again. I for sure will spend a great deal of time in the mountains this winter. Maybe I'll even do some sport stuff. But right now I'm stuck in this hellhole in Germany preparing for skydiving and base.
The area was Trois Pignons, the time was a mid-August summer week in 1990 and the sun was burning. I was a bumbling newbie greasing off slippery sandstone rock following an older & much stronger climber. I managed to scare the wits out of myself on high stuff, I found out first-hand that some jugs are beloved by wasps to build their nests & my hard Asolo rock shoes were absolutely not suited for bouldering. But I loved it. The smell of rosin blending with the sweet scent of the pine forest around us. The grace of the boulders' shapes. The screams of encouragement as we were giving everything. The untold rule of not talking about grades. Bouldering was instant climbing & concentrated fun. We had one of these small portable yellow 'sports' radios blaring The Pixies. This monkey sure was in heaven.
Although my first climbing partner'd stop climbing actively a few years later I continued into the shameful world of Lycra tights, bandanas, long hair & heavy climbing shoes. At about the same time an indoor climbing hall opened in my hometown. The first few years I spent a lot of time climing on limestone sport crags in Belgium & the south of France.
One of the reasons I continued climbing at 16 was because of skateboarding-related shoulder injuries. I kept dislocating my shoulders & my doctors gave me a brilliant excuse to climb more: "You're too skinny, son, you need to develop some shoulder muscle". So I did. Skinny boy gone. Girls flocking around muscle boy (in mydreams) ... One problem: my shoulders kept dislocating, now with the added inconvenience of not being able to pop them back in myself due to the bulging convulsing muscle mass surrounding the shoulder. This even happened at night while I was asleep. After a while each pop included a free ride to hospital where they'd hold me down with 3 guys and ask the toughest staff member to 'manipulate' my shoulder back into place. Ouch. But I'm gratful to these 100kg+ mammoths that have helped me so many times. I got surgery on my right shoulder at the age of 18 and on the left one 10 years later. Everything's fine now but I still wake up at night in agony thinking I've dislocated my shoulder once again.
In between the injuries I got in a lot of climbing time & managed to become quite proficient at freeclimbing but by the mid-nineties something was missing. I'd done some 'hard' climbs, spent a year climbing lots of solo stuff close to Namur & seen some really nice crags in Europe. I was also increasingly getting frustrated with the climbing scene. I've always been kind of a solitary guy. The beauty of the solitary climbing experience is what attracted me to climbing in the first place.
At the time Fontainebleau was respected as a climbing place but was treated more or less as a stopover on the way to the south of France. It was certainly not a weekend destination because of the 4 hour drive. I think a contributing factor to its relative inpopularity was the steepness of its grading system. That stuff was hard. Why spend so much energy on a few moves when you could go & do an 'easy' 8 in the south of France? So Fontainebleau was a place you'd spend a few days maximum. Remember, sportclimbing was the cool thing to do back then & people'd rather spend time on real crags than on 'merely' boulders. But I still remember the great week I spent there in 1990 and in my last year of high school we had spent two weeks bumming on the Cuvier campground. Great memories. So it was time to go back.
Weekend after weekend after weekend. In the beginning I'd often drive alone down there if I didn't find anyone to join me. In fact I enjoyed exporing those forests on my own so much that I secretly wished nobody'd come next weekend. Just me, a little mat to clean my feet & a pair of climbing shoes. I learned the good time for bouldering is winter. I learned that even in the worst weather you can always get in a little climbing. I climbed in rain. I climbed in snow. I climbed in Cuvier on the threshold from 1999 to 2000. I spent a lot of time exploring new corners of the forest, finding new places to sleep at night, just enjoying this magic environment. I spent the best years of my life in this forest to become a solitary 'hardcore' boulderer.
Then once more, things changed. At the turn of the 21st century bouldering became insanely popular & now hordes of boulderers trek to Fontainebleau from all over Europe every weekend. And that's ok. Even though I've seen the climbing world change a lot in these last fifteen years on thing struck me recently: all of these fads (sport, bouldering, ice, trad) are of no consequence. If you plan things carefully you can still find your solitude in climbing. Just don't go to Trois Pignons on an Easter weekend.
Partly due to my recurring injuries I started looking at a climbing art that is a little less explosive and stressful on the body. Right now my thing is ice climbing even though a few years ago I considered it too crazy and too cold for my tastes. Sure, it's about endurance and strength but at least I know it's easier on my shoulders. And there's no competition in ice. Climbs of all grades are cool. & part of the fun is roaming around the mountain environment just like part of the fun in Fontainebleau was being in the forest.
So, what kind of a climber am I? The answer to this question is always in flux. I'd love to do some hard bouldering again without getting injured. I'd love to explore the mountains on ski a little more, maybe participate in the Derby de la Meije again. I for sure will spend a great deal of time in the mountains this winter. Maybe I'll even do some sport stuff. But right now I'm stuck in this hellhole in Germany preparing for skydiving and base.
posted by Anonymous at
12:55 PM
