All paths lead nowhere, choose with heart

this is the last word on Ceuse, and we shall nevAr speak of it again September 19, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — sendann @ 8:51 am
Tags: , , ,

So now that I’ve had some time to reflect, and climb at Rodellar which is such a soul-nourishing experience, I’m getting some perspective on the Ceuse thing. It was horrible. I didn’t mention this while it was happening on account of I was embarassed, but I think I cried every day that I was there, except my two rest days, where I did cry once out of joy. I cried while climbing, I cried while trying to sleep in the freezing cold, I cried when facing the hike, I was just sad. It wasn’t even my normal frustrated crying because I can’t send big scores and I’m disappointed in myself thing. I’m kind of getting over that, and content to live in v4++ land forever. At Ceuse I was crying because I truly believed that if I fell I would die or permanently injure myself. And I can’t climb through that kind of feeling. And I don’t think I ever want to be able to. On my last day there I was mulling over the possibility of staying for a few more weeks, to see if I could get better and more comfortable, maybe send, dare I imagine, a 7a. But then as I was crying on Berlin wall over a move I had just made without a problem, I decided no. This was not even close to fun.

I was explaining this to some Australian’s last night, and one asked “so would you go back?”

“Hell no!!”

But ok I would. If I was with a partner who was super psyched, and who I trusted, and who is more experienced and comfortable than I am at that vertical angle and style, and who could handle some crying, and we stayed for a full month or something, I would go back.  Otherwise, I’m over it. Viva Espana!


Tazmania September 13, 2010

Filed under: Climbing,Trips — sendann @ 9:35 am
Tags: , , , ,

It’s considered a worthwhile thing to learn about other cultures, right? So here goes:

When I hear “Tazmania” I think first of Transylvania, but the image that comes to mind is this:

Then I think no no no, Tanzania, and something like this pops into my head:

Then I realize, oh, Australian island state. Right. Sea stacks, etc.

Tazmanians are, like Australians, into hitch hiking, being miserly, and sleeping in the woods and calling it their “house.”

I’m riding to Spain with Dan the American and Grug from Tazmania, tomorrow. Grug  is nicknamed for some Tazmanian comic book character akin, on some level, to Jughead. Dan is a badass, like John Myrick kinda. Crushes hard lines with pure will.

In Tazmania, school children are taught tarp construction as part of the basic skills curriculum. When I expressed surprise and amusement about this, Grug said well, it rains quite a lot there. And what? I thought. You don’t have houses? I suppose I’ll find out more and report back later.

Grug with a two-tiered stick tool.



Filed under: Climbing — sendann @ 8:41 am
Tags: , , ,

God help me if I ever get out of a foreign country without buying a new pair of comfortable and slightly oversized orange Anasazi velcos. I always leave mine behind thinking NO, I am only travelling to perform, so I will only bring performance shoes. Then I over do it, my toes start to cry, and yeah. Ninety Euros from the French version of Academy, which of course stocks Anasazis in every size.

After 9 days in France and only 1 full day of rest, I couldn’t even do a warm up. My British friend Maddy keeps saying things like, “you look positively knackered” or “you seem simply exhausted” and  “wow! you look famished!” I took the hint, finally, and took two full days and three nights off. I shopped, ate, stretched and read Stieg Larsson.

The reason I’m so unrested is that I’m not tweaking at all. Three days on anywhere else and my elbows are on fire and my fingers are barely bending, so I have to stop. But here I don’t get any of those tell-tail signs. I just suddenly can’t climb very well. My skin even feels ok, just a bit thin and one pesky hole that keeps bleeding all over the holds.

I have decided to devote the next 2 to yoga, food, laundry, sleep, and reading Carlos Casteneda on my Kindle. I shopped today in Gap, got a nice cushy yoga/sleeping mat, those Anasazis, and an amazing bouldering skort that I will photograph and post shortly.


le gothique September 1, 2010

Filed under: Climbing,Trips — sendann @ 5:52 pm
Tags: , , , , , , ,

Ok I made it to France. But first, here’s the thing about England: The food is terrible, it’s always cold, and no matter what you do, leaving the sofa costs $50 (one way). I did go to this crazy gym in London with my new London-based friend Ryan.

the Westway climbing wall and Westway highway

Weird, right? When you get to the top you can see people in their cars. Of course I was getting so whooped by the British plastic crag that I only got to the top once and friends, it was not a triumph. Also, under that highway there are horse stables. It’s pretty much the best highway ever.

But today I got to France and set up Ian’s awesome tent (thanks bro!) at this very nice campground in Gorg du Tarn. This place is kind of like Potrero. There are French people with kayaks everywhere, and tons of campgrounds and a chain of little towns. It’s like the hidalgo/monterrey/mina/virgin canyon etc deal at Potrero, but French and more moneyed and with way WAY fewer donkeys, which I consider quite a loss.

My campground has  a pool, and wifi, which is great because I am totally not sure how to find someone to climb with now and might need to pass some time before I give up on France and head to Spain, where I have a few contacts and suspect there will be more donkeys.

And I also have a cold, and am very, very tired, and I can’t figure out how to get my french CampingGaz stove to work. I am in some pretty tremendous self pity about the whole thing. I think it all started when I was driving through this amazing French mountain countryside, and all I could think about was all this mean stuff douchebag men have said about my driving. You guys all need to shut up and let me drive. I work the clutch how I want, and the gas how I want, and just pass out or something already.  Made me so mad, and made me start thinking about all the mean things that guys have said to me this year, and that made me upset. Then the stove thing, and this headcold, it’s a sic sad spiral. I hope I get to climb tomorrow.

Andy suggested putting my harness on and sitting under the climb I want to do with my thumb out and clown makeup on. I’m giving it two days of concerted effort, then moving on to Spain to pester my friend pepe’s friend, and capt bastard’s friend who is in the circus. My plan, worst comes to worst, is to lay on the beach in southern france and sleep for three weeks then meet Gustavo in Mallorca. MALLORCA!!