Chamonix (30th July)

We've found a coffee shop, somewhere were we wouldn't normally good if we were in Britain. However a coffee shop provides a much needed resource whilst living in the van (other than coffee)... it provides power. It gives me time to write down my thoughts about how the trip has been going so far as well. If I don't do this I've found that the experience is just so much that I have real trouble distilling out what I want to really remember when I come to write up one of these blog when I'm back home. I guess if I do it at the time then it'll be fresh in my mind.

Today is a good day. We woke up early this morning to sunshine and our first clear view down the valley. We vanned up in Argentiere last night at a small car park just out of the town centre (if you can call it a town). It had another valuable resource, a toilet (and a bloody nice toilet at that). Our morning has been spent breakfasting on French pastry (and the ever present muesli), drinking coffee, cleaning out and tidying up the van and drying everything that had got wet (which when I tell you about the day before, you'll understand). We've then been round Chamonix looking for sunglasses and a hat to replace the ones Finney has left in my kitchen. Then it was time for the coffee shop.

[A guy has just come up to us asking about the wifi, seeing as I'm sat here with a laptop. I retorted with “do we just look that English?” to which he replied (in a strong Irish accent) “no, I actually thought you were American, because of your hat”... I think the hat might have to go.]

I always find it really hard to write something interesting about the drive down but this is probably due to the fact that there isn't really anything to write about. This time was a little different. We would have hit traffic on the M25 but we got off to avoid it. The diversion cost us as much time as it would have sitting in traffic and consequently we missed our ferry. Our first night was vanned up on Dover promenade, awaiting a 0700 ferry. The ferry was caught with no problem at all but on the drive down we got lost. Not lost on the main journey, but every single time we pulled off the road to find something like a super market etc we just ended up hopelessly lost. I'm not going to lie, there were a few frustrating moments and some severely grumpy people in the van for a short while. It didn't matter though as after a very long drive we pulled up in Chamonix, in torrential rain.

Our first night in France was actually spent in the Aiguille du Midi cable car car park as theres a hole in the fence hence free parking. Needless to say everything managed to get wet, including the bouldering pad that was stored under the vehicle. We woke up late he next day which was just as well as the weather hadn't abated. I don't we left the vehicle very much that day, just drove round, explored, checked the weather and sat around drinking wine and playing travel connect 4. I'm currently winner something like 25 games to 6. All the sitting around did give me time to actually sharpen up the ice screws.

But today the weather is good, and should be for the next few days. We planned to go climbing on the Triangle, on Mont Blanc Du Tacul. Either Contamine-Mazeaud (AD+) or Contamine-Grisolle (AD+, II), after taking the last cable car up this evening and biving out below the route so we can start climbing early. It's a plan at least.

I seem to be really hung up on “doing it right”. I think the “right” way to climb this is to go up on the first telecabine (early morning) and walk in here. That puts a lot of pressure on us time wise, where as biving and accepting that we'll be carrying a little bit more weight means we can start earlier, climb slightly slower and safer and ideally have a much much better experience. That's the plan anyway.

We've started recording “van diaries” whislt we're away. There are so many thoughts and feelings that go through your mind and I always find it hard to actually set myself the time to write things down in words. Just being able to record it all on video makes life easier. The plan is to record them all and then we'll watch them once we're back. This way neither of us can watch what the other has said. I think it'll be interesting to say the least.

(Generic touristy photo of us standing in front of some mountains)

Afterwork Climbing (in the peak)

I finished my first wave of NCS work for the summer the other day. As jobs go this has got to be one of the most interesting as I've been employed as a group leader for 4 of the 6 waves (2 I can't do due to DofE work commitments). Being a group leader means that I've got the same group for 3 days; 2 of which are spent walking and scrambling (not real scrambling, but more phootling about through the rocks) with an overnight camp and one day is spent canoeing and raft building. The job actually means I get to spend a few days this summer actually playing on the water. I basically get paid to play, responsibly of course, but essentially play.

My evenings off normally depend on the time I finish or whether I'm working an overnight job. I did managed to get in my first after work bouldering session the other day. On the whole I'd say it was less of a bouldering session and more of an excuse to go and see Andy as he'd come up to the peak to get out of stoke. I arrived late to the Roaches (he was already there) and walking in some mad little part of my brain decided that soloing Valkyrie would be a good idea.

I've had quite an on going relationship with this route over the years, having to bail off is on several occasions due to weather or my head not being in it, I've rescued a guy off it with a broken arm and eventually got round to leading it. The idea of soloing something so risky hasn't ever really been my thing. I like highball bouldering because of the risk, and will solo smaller routes where the likely hood is broke ankles or legs at the worst, but soloing something with terminal fall potential is somewhere I've not gone before.

I'm not sure which part of my mind was gunning for me to do it so much. Normally when you get ideas like this, or at least when I get ideas like this, there is a voice in my head that'll speak up and yell “hey man, this is serious, way too serious... what're you thinkin'?”. I can't explain why but there was none of this as I walked to the base of the route after making the decision to do it. I'll admit that it worried me a little. Why was I suddenly happy climbing something that could cost me everything?

It didn't really matter. I was focused on climbing the route and nothing was going to change that. I took my time doing all the little things before I started. I changed into my rock boots and cleaned them till they were sticky. I rolled up my trousers till they sat where I like them. I had a drink of water and a quiet couple of minutes to contemplate the route. I then stood at the base and chalked up before setting off.

The route itself was an amazingly intense experience. I couldn't get into the the flow straight away and it took a few slow careful moves before my mind was silent and all I could concentrate on was the climbing. I climbed slowly and carefully going back to basics and having three points of contact and thinking through every single move. As I made the easy moves to gain the first pitch belay ledge my mind started screaming at me. I sat there for what could only have been a couple of minutes but it seemed like forever while I argued with myself about continuing.

The option of retreat was dangling there in front of me. I could virtually walk off from this ledge and it would all be over. I'd be safe, but unfufilled. I'd be left asking myself the same question over and over:

“Why couldn't I just continue?”

So I carried on. I stood up and chalked my my hands, then chalked them up again for good measure before grasping the first holds on that massive flake and continuing on a path from which there would be no retreat. I've reversed all of the flake before, from the crux but this time would be different. As I started down climbing I was in a state of panic. My heart was racing and felt like it would burst out of my chest. I couldn't see the hidden foothold I would need to make the set across and again it felt like an eternity before I got my foot onto it. I stepped across and very carefully felt the next hold with my hand, adjusting where I placed it again and again to make the next move as easy as possible. Falling off here simply wasn't an option.

I made it. I didn't retreat and I carried on round to the front face. The climbing is easier and I had to slow myself down so that I wouldn't make a stupid mistake, but I still ran to the top. The view from the prow of valkyrie was that same view I'd seen countless times before, but this time it was different. I was looking through it was different eyes after an intense experience. My heart was still racing and I could almost feel the blood pumping round my body. I felt like I was dreaming.

I understood for the first time why people solo routes, especially ones where the consequences of a fall are so severe. It's not about the rock your climbing, but the places in your mind that you go. I finished thinking that what I'd just done was reckless and stupid and I'm sure there as those that would agree, but I don't. I went somewhere I've never been before and came away from it changed, if only slightly.

It was a fitting end to my affair with Valkyrie. For me it was almost the combination of 10 years of climbing and I loved every moment of it.