Cloggy Climbing Weekend

"Watch me Martin, I may do a Fat Freddy!" - I was struggling in the crux of the second pitch of "Pedestal Crack" a steady VS up in Clogwyn Du'r Arddu, the temple of traditional British rock climbing. On the week-end of an excellent conference in Bristol I was in Wales with Martin and Roystone, on a mission convert some last year's fat into proper muscle and scale some of the awesome rock climbs in Cloggy. Having climbed both Friday and Saturday this last climb of Sunday was starting to wear me out. I was hanging in a steep exposed corner trying to remember how to "rest" while hanging in one arms, placing gear with the other. A "Fat Freddy" was my hook to Martin to watch me, as stories of Fred peeling off"Goddess of Gloom" loomed in my nervous mind. I knew Martin would be sharp on the ropes should I take a lob, but he's firm reply had me back to focus. "Oh no you're not". I knew the belay and gear was bomber all the way and comparisons to Goddess of Gloom disappeared as a clipped yet another bomber friend 2.5 onto one of the ropes dangling between my legs down to Martin's belay. "Go on you bastard" I kept telling myself. Swearing and being really rude to yourself seems to help keeping the mind and body in an aggressive mood, and with plenty of this tactic I managed to pull up beyond the 2nd pitch's hardest parts. I still had 25 meters of pure steep rock climbing to go and was for now recomposing on a safe bridging ledge, before heading back into the exhausting finish.



Cloggy is an excellent crag. The walk is half way up Snowdon, with a full pack and full rack, it takes about 1.5h in a steady pace, both ways, both days. This gives the crag a nice and committing feel, as the pilgrims all have to enjoy or suffer the long walk in before getting rewarded with a plentiful selection of some of Britain's best rock climbs. Martin was a perfect guide as ever, both in organising and executing the logistics, as well as sherpa'ing most of the load up and down the walk. He probably carried over 30 kilos, and me 3.

Once at the crag the tactics of "climb whatever is not busy" (it's a very popular crag), paid off, as we were quickly racking up at the bottom of "The Corner", a great looking HVS at the centre stage of the crag. I tied on the sharp end and headed up some sketchy protected rock, quickly realising the full on nature of this place. Trad at its best. I arrived at the belay in good shape, happy that I had been accepted by the rock. On the way I had the pleasure of meeting Royston who was sitting on a nearby ledge, with a big grin, clearly in his element belaying his friend Rob up "Scorpion" an intimidating looking E2 just left of where we were heading. Royston quickly calibrated my compass to focus on the lass climbing the E4 on Great Wall rather than ol' Martin coming up from below and continuing above me.

Knowing Martin would flow up this splitter easily I could pay full attention to the conversation with Royston setting the tone for the weekend. Apart from the odd "watch me here Matheighas" Martin flowed up the route in his new found elegant, chalk normalised and steadily protected style (he used to grunt a lot more, cover the route in a slimy track of chalk, and fill any and every orifice with gear - now a thing of the past). Joining him after a desperate but fair fight from me on the jamming and lay backing extravaganza was a pleasure and the first route was ticked.

Routes take a fair bit of time in Cloggy but we had time for another. The oldest climb of the crag "Chimney Route" at VS, climbed by two nutters in 1931, was the next obvious objective. The route would set the tone for the rest of the weekend: superb back-and-footing up perfectly steep and consistent chimney. The climbing was awkward and challenging, and well worth it. We topped out at 6pm and decided to retreat to the climbers hut in time for lager and socialising. Walk out was brilliant in the setting sun - we left Royston at the crag: he was engaged in photographing duties of an onsight attempt of an E7.


Once back at the superb hut, we got amble amount of lager and a dinner extraordinaere from Martin: an Azusa inspired recipe of technical pasta tubes with a delicate sauce of asparagus and broccoli fried in chilli oil and slices garlic. Absolutely heaven. Rest of the evening was spent talking about climbing - an inherent quality of the CC huts. Brilliant. I cowardly crashed out as the first in the bunk bed after an for me exhausting and all together exhilarating day.

Sunday was a repeat, weather was still on for it, a bit more wind which was actually a relief: the walk was easier. Today we were climbing in 3 which was planned and the tactics was the same as the day before: meet up with an objective and if it was not on, find another route that was available. "The Boulder" E1 was occupied (I think), so after a bit of a debate we decided to go for Curving Crack, an stunning distinct line of the main face of Cloggy. Martin shot off from the swamp smelling base (actually smelled really badly), we later found out why. Martin's pitch was another back-foot job with a tricky finish and we all made it to the first stance in varied style. I led the second pitch which was brilliant and Royston the last which ended up in the sun on the lip of the crag.

Royston decided to call it a day and get back on his motorcycle to Edale, as Martin eagerly pushed on for another tick in the stephogalism. Although I was quite knackered I was actually really on for more, before we inevitably would have to return to the Bristol Beale Depot. The choice was obvious: Pedestal Crack, VS 5a, 4c, 4b, the other splitter of the crag: a straight line from start to finish. After our sandwich the remaining crisps, Martin led off the 5a pitch and I followed swearing and grunting along the way: it was hard and I was getting quickly drained. My turn to lead and Martin suggested combining the two pitches into one glorious finish for the weekend. I was up for it, although as I was engaging in the crux of the 2nd pitch I was getting a bit concerned: would I have enough juice left in the guns to finish this baby in style. "Watch me Martin, I do a Fat Freddy!". I thought it was hard and I was not sure I could stay on. Encouraged by Martin's calm: "on no you're not", I pulled it through, got composed midway and climbed the 3rd pitch in succession and topped out on the brilliantly exposed ridge of Cloggy. Martin joined me and we left Cloggy in the evening sun - thinking of objectives for our next pilgrimage to this Temple of Rock.

Motion Tracking After Effects

One of the essential and powerfull tricks in After Effects for creating the illusion of a product interface

One of the things I needed to create with it

And a few more things from the times in B&O (made by Adnan Oprasic)


Cheap solution for green screen (note for self):
http://www.fest4all.dk/shop/plast-dug-lime-450p.html

How to fix the Apple Cinema Display

I had the error: 2 beeps and 2 dots. Here's what I did

Snow Kite Jutland

This  was and absolutely brilliant day in Jutland. Perfect snow conditions all over Denmark (rare) and then a nice sunny, windy, frosty day. 

Kite surfing on the fields of Jutland: top.

 

Thanks to Celine for the photo.

Jordan Climbing Trip

"Shurkran habibi" said Andrew with a grin. The taxi driver had accepted to drive us from the airport into the desert some 4 hours drive away. I had just landed in Amman Airport at 3am Sunday morning and was greeted by a happy Andrew who had arrived half an hour earlier. We set off towards Wadi Rum, a little beduin village on the border to the desert in the South of Jordan. The drivess would take 4 hours and we'd arrive as the sun would rise in Rum. Andrew had got his hands on blankets and pillows from his flight and we cuddled up in the back of the car to sleep most of the way.

Arriving with not much sleep we went straight to "Wadi Restaurant", a weathered old building with a few tables outside. We immediately bumbed into some of the local friends of Andrew's: Erga, an 71 year old American woman turned Bedouin and Atech the son of the local Bedouin Master (not quite a sheik I think), We also met the chef of the restaurant Abu Ali who would turn out to become a good friend over the next days. Abu Ali had been in Jordan for a year or so, having escaped Iraq leaving his wife, kids, dogs, house, fields and work (he was a lawyer). It was quite eye-opening to listen to his stories in the evening and discuss politics and wars with someone who was really affected by it. It must be truly desperate to have to leave your wife and kids indefinitely.

Once fed with tea and a good breakfast (omelet, pita-bread and jam) we checked out our possibilities for accommodation which was either a grim looking Abi Ghrail type prison block or an excellent looking open air penthouse flat (basically the roof of Abu Ali’s restaurant) we decided on the later leaving Abu Ghrail to Andrew’s Swiss friends who was arriving the following day.

Being fairly knackered from not having must sleep in the taxi we considered two options: take a nap and take it easy or go climb a rock, we were surrounded by it on all sides. No place for the weak, and the boys wanted to rock and roll, so we geared up and headed off in the sand towards the nearest crag some 10 minutes walk from Wadi Rum, some 500 meters high! We (or Andrew really, the guide for the week) chose a route called Mumkin that would take us half way up the magnificent rock and our descent would be by abseil. Since I had no idea how the grading was I trusted Andrew to having picked something suitable easy to easy us and especially me into the climbing – I hadn’t climbed any real rock for a long time, and my ambitious training regime had consisted of the run to catch the bus to the airport 24 hours earlier. So it was not without trepidation that I got my shoes and harness on and tied into the ropes, luckily Andrew had offered to lead the first pitch so I still had time to … well to get more scared.

It turned out to be an excellent climb with my pitch being really exposed but on good and solid rock with plenty of challenges to keep me focused. I found it pretty hard and Andrew kindly agreed that it was a bit hard for the grade after he had swum up it to meet me at the stance. It was a pretty exciting first climb.

The descent was equally exciting if not downright scary. Apparently this is a regular trademark of Wadi Rum climbing: scary and nasty rope-eating abseils. The problem is really in the rock that is so shard and flaky that the rope is more or less certain to catch and jam if you are not both careful as well as lucky. We managed to get the rope completely stuck in one place and Andrew had to climb up in a rather exposed fashion to retrieve the jammed rope. If you can’t get the rope back (which in many situations is very likely), there’s really not any alternative than to sit tight and wait for rescue. This can be a very long wait in certain places out in the desert. So it’s a real nail-biting experience to “pull the ropes” on these long abseils. Andrew did get our rope freed and we managed the rest of the week, by being careful and lucky, not to get the rope stuck again.

After an excellent afternoon on rock we returned to the village to the local Refreshment Tent and re-hydrated the best we could in the local (quite expensive) Golden Throat Charmer. After a quick meal at Abu Ali’s (chicken and rise) we headed off to the penthouse for a long and nice sleep. Andrew, being a seriously experienced and up to date traveler, had even brought earplugs for the both of us, so that we could sleep all the way until the late morning ignoring the 5am prayer, the local dog barks, and the general noise of an open air penthouse. Good job.
Monday

Next morning (Monday) we met the Swiss who’d arrived the previous evening and after much greeting and eating we stocked up, packed our gear and headed out in a 4wd (with driver) to the desert to stay three days. This was something I really looked forward to and I was not disappointed. Andrew knew an excellent camp spot and knew all the climbs in the area and it was really just a matter of picking and choosing between the numerous challenges out there. Monday afternoon was spent climbing “Sunkiss” while the Swiss did the neighboring route called … . A most excellent route again, with a finish that one hardly forgets. A full rope length of an exposed traverse (not trivial) with pretty must 1 perhaps 2 pieces of protection. The traverse teaches you a good lesson about Wadi Rum: you probably don’t want to fall off this stuff.

We returned to the camp in the evening and had our pita-bread with various toppings, refreshments, and numerous cups of tea. Sitting around the fireplace in the desert is a great experience. It almost reminded me of the happy days being a scout. Maybe also because of Andrew had announced himself the Scout Master (with a cane and all) and that I was on a good path to take my Tea-making badge, my Bedouin Climbing Badge, etc.
Tuesday

Next day’s objective was a suggestion to climb “Snow in the Desert” a hard and awfully intimidating looking 11 pitch route that it bang in the sun for the most of the day. Does look like a super climb, but as we approached the shadow of this towering sea of rock we quite quickly came up with several excuses why this climb would have to wait for another day. Instead we looked across to the other side of the valley and spotted “Ocean Slabs” which was a long “Bedouin” type route up a genuine sea of slabs taking the commuted team all the way to the summit. This fitted the bill and we set off to do this instead.

It was quite and undertaking and we had a full day probably even more in the sun, but with more easy climbing and lots of it. It was pretty scary stuff though and although we climbed without ropes we tended to swap leads once the leader was drained mentally. This solo-climbing is very much a mental game and although it really is easy climbing, one can suddenly freeze half way up a 100 meters slab and think: “Will this go”, “how the hell do we get down” etc. Our route-finding (a major issue on these long climbs), was pretty spot on and although we had a couple of moments where we seemed to have lost the “bottle” (or the YOOOR!), we managed to pull it through and got up to the final barrier before the summit. We couldn’t figure out how to get over the last bit though, and after several brave attempts from Andrew, and with a fairly worried “how do we get down” Mathias, then we decided that the actual summit could wait for another day and we started heading down. Andrew had an inspirational suggestion that we should go down another way than we came up and although this can sometimes get you into some serious trouble, this was a good decision as we quickly found some old abseil thread here and there and started a quick and enjoyable descent all the way down to the desert floor.

We arrived at the camp before the Swiss team and having been in the sun all day we felt pretty exhausted and therefore started the refreshment phase early.
Wednesday

Next day was booked for doing “Merlins Wand”, a classic of the area. A awe-inspiring crack splitting one of the steep rock faces in the Barra Canyon Valley. We invited JM along from the Swiss team, and climbed the beauty as a pleasant team of three. We took our time and enjoyed it all. I led the “crux” pitch and was really pleased that I still have it in me and can climb stuff in the extreme end of the grade. It’s a top climb that everyone visiting the area should do.

Returning the the camp in good time we packed everything and spent the rest of the afternoon bouldering on the beautiful boulders that was scattered around our pickup point.

Ataech picked us up in the afternoon and we headed back thirsty and dirty to Wadi Rum. In the evening we managed to get Abu Ali to extend his menu from Chicken and Rise to include “A Jebel (mountain) of Chips”, which went down really well. We also met all the local young Bedouin hotshot guides which was quite entertaining. They also thought it was quite a laugh waiving their hands under the chin to illustrate a head-chopping session, suggesting that I would not live to see another day (because of the Muhammed Drawings), and Andrew quickly established that he was indeed English and planned to sleep in our open access penthouse with his passport taped to his throat – just in case they came to us that night. I didn’t sleep much that night.
Thursday

Next morning was layed out as a bit of a rest day and Andrew and I took it easy and enjoyed being in Abu Ali’s restaurant and company and only around 11am did we start thinking about doing something or the other this for me last day in Wadi Rum. We lazily looked left to Jebel … and right to Jebel Rum, the second highest mountain in Jordan. Suddenly we forgot all about rest days and decided: let’s climb the bugger. We geared up in 5 minutes, grabbed some water and headed off to what is usually a two day climb (one day up, camp, and one day down). Without any mistakes (route finding wise, a major challenge), we should be able to pull it off in time for refreshments in the evening.

The pace was set (quick walking) and we spent the next 7-8 hours non-stop climbing up rock for miles and miles. It was a truly excellent climb and only possible because of Andrew now totally transformation into a Beduin Guide. He wasn’t taking any prisoners, and all I could do was to follow and politely mention when the stuff was a bit dangerous. We got to the summit and enjoyed the views and again headed down a different route. This descent route Andrew knew though and that made it straight forward, although not easy. We were particularly cribbled a bit only having brought one rope and we did have a few scary abseils to mid-way point on big walls where we had to set up our own abseils on creative bits of sandy rock. It went fine though and we were actually a bit chuffed getting down to the village again even before the Swiss had returned from their full day venture. An excellent tick.


Friday

I was due back to Copenhagen from Amman Sunday, and decided to visit Petra on the way. So I left a full blood Beduin Andrew Friday morning, and headed off to Petra with a couple of other travelers in the local bus. It was well weird suddenly to be on your own (I’d had Andrew taking care of me the whole week), but it was also really enjoyable to set off into new land on a popular tourist path to see some culture and history of Jordan. Petra was excellent a really interesting place (huge). We (the people I had met and was now traveling with) all stayed at a most excellent youth hostel with an inclusive dinner, which I salvaged in the evening. I had only tasted chicken, rise and pita-bread (and a chip), so the lavish Arabian buffet that evening was an overwhelming site and it was really really excellent stuff. There were many other travelers gathering around on the tables and we all had quite an enjoyable evening telling stories etc.
Saturday

Next day I decided to head to Amman to spent a bit of time in the regular city and to experience a bit of the atmosphere of the Arabian Mad City life that I have enjoyed before in Cairo. I wasn’t disappointed and I actually really liked Amman – it’s less crazy than Cairo and it’s actually really pleasant to walk around. You practically don’t get hassled but if you ask someone they are still well on for haggling over the prices etc. They have all the exotic shops and some fine restaurants, barber shops, fruit markets and spice shops all over the place. There isn’t must history to see, which is why there aren’t many tourists I suppose, so a day or two is probably enough, but definitely worth it. I had a good laugh meeting local nutters on the street, overcharging taxi drivers and enthusiastic shopkeepers. Another thing that’s nice in Amman is that you see women, both with vail, without and with the burka, whereas in Wadi Rum they are practically hidden.

I ate in some westernly looking place in the evening and slept on a fairly rough hotel. Next morning I got the 7am bus to Amman Airport (2 hours drive, price: 1 pound). I had a long and fairly tedious flight back (connecting in Vienna with a long and boring Transit wait) and arrived back in Copenhagen Sunday night.

It was an excellent trip, especially because of Andrews local knowledge and all his double racks of useful items. The climbing is world class and Wadi Rum and the desert is quite a unique place. Petra is a world class tourist attraction and Amman an interesting stop on the way. The people are really friendly and come from all over the Middle East. Since many of them are immigrants and since Jordan is a fairly new country you don’t feel that much of a stranger.

Mathias

Scialet du Pot 2

The speleoteam was in good shape after the highly successful untick of A2 by Martin and myself, and we were fired up after successful bottoming of this highly recommendable set of shafts. So our attention turned towards a long sought objective: Scialet Pot 2.

Ever since the first opening the pages of the Speleo Vercors volume 2, I had been fired up to do this baby. But since we had ventured into the depths of the Vercors it was clear that an attempt on descending Pot 2 would require an absolute well oiled machine of speleology and I think Martin and I was pretty fired up by having Tim unboard completing a normally pretty strong team. We had set the clocks for a morning 6'o'clock start and Martin was packing his bags the night before. Tim and I packed our back the next morning and retrospectively this is where the first screw up could be identified. Since we were packing individually and without the usual "get all the gear out on the floor and lets pack together" we didn't really know what each other was bringing and was therefore individually assuming that the other ones had taken bits of critical gear. Not good when the cave is a 1 hour drive and 3 hours hard walk from our basecamp.

We set off in moderate spirits as the weather was quite horrific - stormy and occasional showers. After about an hour drive we reached the end of the forest road and started racking up. It was here we realized a grim fact: we had not brought any food (except 3 croissants and 1.5 bar of chocolate) and maybe even worse we had not brought the guidebook or the fine copies we'd made the day before. Not a well oiled machine at all. Had we not been under a time pressure (which we were because of evening commitments) we would of course have gone back to get the critical bits needed for an successful descent. Since we were already in principal running late there was no alternative but to push on and try to locate the pothole in one of the most difficult to reach places of the Vercors. I had brought a map and a compass and Martin and Tim had their altimeters.

After about 3 hours of extreme hiking mostly following an excellently marked hunting boundary (red paint on trees and rock) deep in the forest we reached the limestone slabs underneath Pass Morta - a very remote and somewhat hostile environment unless you are a speleologist. For the speleologist this place is like a little piece of heaven - a place littered with potholes and since the weather had improved a little - the wind had died down and the rain was infrequent we were all pretty excited to be up there. We fired up the radios (which had proven extremely valuable on the hike already) and split out in search of Pot 2. Without the guide book this was going to take some time, although luckily I had meticulously marked the cave on the map we had brought with us. This proved the key to success. After a good deal of spotholing and finding many interesting sites we reassembled for our croissant and Martin (who had found the A2 two days earlier in a stroke of pure inspiration) sat down, to a careful look at the map and he headed of in the direction he thought it would be most likely to be in. Some 10 minutes later Tim and I heard it on the radio: "I've got it, I can see a spit and Pot 2 written on the face of the rock". Brilliant. We got our sacks from basecamp and moved over to what was unmistakably the Pot 2 some of us had been dreaming about for a long time. An excellent looking spot underneath some big pine trees and with marks of previous speleological presence on the ground.

If we hadn't had the time pressure I'm convinced we would have bottomed this baby. Even with the lack of food I think we all felt down for it and was ready to go on reserves and beyond, for it is not everyday that you get a chance of descending a straight minus 320 meter shaft created by mother nature herself - how, nobody really knows for sure.

We did however have time running against us and therefore had to accept the fact already at the surface, that we couldn't get to the bottom and up in time, and therefore decided to get to at least scratch the surface, and get to a point of around -90 meters. Martin headed down in determined style while Tim and I got a fire going in the camp. We soon heard on the radio that the shaft was already rigged which came as a huge surprise and was unfortunately not ideal, although it didn't really pose a problem as such. We would just rig on top these ghost speleologist, and this was what was done.
Tim went second and after putting a good number of logs on the fire I followed.

I reached the bottom of the initial 15 meter shaft where the entrance to the 300 meter straight shaft starts. I radioed Martin to hear what was going on since it seemed there was a halt in the progress and Tim was hanging on a y-hang some 50 meters below. I couldn't quite figure out what was going on since communications to the surface was for some reason sparse but it sounded like Martin was contemplating bolting a y-hang somewhere down there on a shelf he had svung into. This sounded odd to me and I was anxious to go down and have a look at things. I many times considered going down on the second rope already in place, but I thought I better keep my place in the line. Eventually Martin put a spit in on the ledge on which he was standing, and we could all have a look at the affair.
It was obvious that there was something wrong in the rig. Martin had swung in on this ledge which seemed like quite a deviation from the straight line which, guidebook or no guidebook, just couldn't be right. It was obvious to me that one had to go straight down and perhaps search for a y-hang on the main wall of the shaft. This sometimes means going all the way to the end of the rope which is pretty mentally demanding - especially in a shaft the size of p2. But for some reason Martin seem fixed on this ledge, and anyway, since we had decided on the surface, that we were not going to go any further down, and we now had a new spit insitu there was one only thing to do. Get back up. Going further down establishing a new route would be rather pointless as we would essentially just create a "false line" which would serve no purpose.

After a bit of discussion we decided to leave the cave for another day, and we started the ascent and got up and then down (the hill), back with the car in perfect time for celebrating Martin's birthday. Céline had with usual splendor fired up some French dishes and everybody in the hut had been busy making the evening special. We had a great evening in the cozy hut singing birthday songs and drinking champagne all the while the Vercors was thundering and lighting outside almost in a triumph of another straight win to this fascinating place.

We will be back 

Scialet A2 - Double Black Helmet

It was not the best of days for a descent : it was raining gently, but we just went for it.
Finding A2 was not exactly easy. Portering in 250m of rope was as tedious as ever, but at the end we had the added hassle of trying to locate a cave in a dense pine forest with a not completely accurate description. Mathias firstly located Scialet P2. This was somewhat uninspiring : we knew we were on for something more significant.

20 minutes of ferreting around between limestone pavements, shakeholes and other general speleological features saw me at the gaping edge of what was unmistakably a hole of major speleological significance. It was quite apparent to me that whether this was A2 or not, this was the hole that we were going down today. More out of politeness than anything else, I radioed to Mathias on the talkie walkie to come on down (I was so awestruck).

After a somewhat arduous walk-in, it was good to be racking up at the top of what appeared to be a bottomless shaft deep in the Vercors forest with a steady rain dripping around us. Mathias's 3 month abesence from the monsters of the deep meant that he was more than un for leading the descent of the first pitch (i.e. it didn't take much persausion from me for Mathias to agree to the lead).

The first pitch down the shaft was masterful : one tree and a single deviation 3m down led to a glorious 40m drop to a small snow pile at the base of the shaft. The walls were perfectly smooth in the lower section, the water had etched out the fossils in the bedrock to yield a display of unparalleled beauty.

The next two shafts were shorter, but of similar aesthetic quality : magnificently shaped shafts just yearning to be bolted (which Mathias was forced to do on the second shaft : though we loved the glorious limestone, we felt that a deviation to avoid catastrophic rope rub could only add to the zen of the situation).

We found ourselves looking down a classic Mendip-like vertical squeeze (this was the worst section of the cave). I tried to broddle a sling into a thread to help protect this descent. When I seemed to be getting nowhere, Mathias appeared and in a moment of inspiration, he had threaded this tight little hole. It was at this moment that I realised that Mathias was operating on another plane from me. This was further confirmed when I attempted the downward squeeze and was repulsed only to find Mathias later dropping this squeeze like a log from a .... (well, suffice to say, it was shear elegance).
At the bottom of the squeeze, Mathias was looking nervously up at the E15 - "tres delicate" which looked to me more like an E22 gurt hard. I was right, the climb (that Mathias led) was gurt hard. I do not wish to undersell what Mathias did on this E22 : Mathias's ascent of this climb was the single most inspirational piece of outdoor action I have ever witnessed. The climbing was steep and technical (4c : that is technical for a 22m climb in a cave) : there was always the danger of loose rock and the prospect of a fall was unconscienseable [sp?]). Given the nature of the obstacle, this was likely to be an early repeat of the feature. Mathias's effort went beyond boldness : this was pure bravery - an inspiration to us all.

I met Mathias at the top of the the climb, belayed to a couple of uncannily new bolts. I offered my congratulations and the ropebags. He gracefully accepted the congratulations, but initially declined the ropebags claiming that he was mentally drained. I could well understand his mental exhaustion : as I jumared Mathias's climb, things looked well wild. However, I knew that I didn't have the mental strength to face leading to the base of the shaft having witnessed Mathias's heroic efforts minutes beforehand. I concocted a story that the lower pitches would require drilling and that Mathias had clearly mastered the art. Mathias fell for the excuse hook, line and sinker and reluctantly accepted the bags.

The 71m (actually 85m) pitch was an absolutely huge pitch. It started as a sloping shaft with a crucial deviation in the sidewall (which later required a rope protector in case of failure) and was followed by a couple more deviations before the floor of the shaft was reached 85m below (not bad for a 71m pitch!). I followed in absolute awe of "The Master" in top form. Even when Mathias offered me the lead of the bottom pitch, it seemed almost unethical to deny The Master the descent of the final pitch: a descent that was executed in a single stylish slippery drop.


It would be almost churlish to describe the ascent in great detail : lest it detracted from the heroics that Mathias displayed on the E22. The (sic) 71m pitch seemed huge (and fine training for Pot 2). I was amazed when I descended the E22 : it seemed impossible to climb : I said to Mathias that his ascent of this was pure brilliance (and I totally meant it). Half way up the P14, we could see daylight and we knew we were almost there. There was no time for rushing now and we were able to savour the majesty of the entrance shaft (a grand version of Jingling Pot).

We got out of the cave at around 8:30pm. As we changed, we retold our stories of a brilliant cave : a cave of beautiful shafts and formidable obstacles. I realised at the exit of this cave that Mathias had almost transcended his status as an elite speleologist : he was at another level.

The walk back was arduous yet amenable. I really felt for Mathias as he dragged his weary body backed to the La Moliere car park : he is clearly more akin to the Vercors's depths than its heights.