Queyras hiking and Italia - Italy

Queyras lies on the border of France and Italy in the southern alps. It feels a long way away from anywhere because there are lots of windy roads to get there, even though it is barely 10km away from Gap. There are less forests than around Vallouise and Allefroide, so the area looks bare, but feels more spacious. Even though it seems far away, there is no getting lost with no trees to hide behind, and people everywhere.

We visited the Chateau-Queyras around which you can do via ferata. When I first heard of via ferata it was years ago, and I thought it sounded fascinating (I didn’t really know that via ferata was). I remember listening intently as some guy told me about his adventures in the Dolomites doing via ferata – it all sounded so amazing... Anyway, I started walking along the via ferrata track not thinking it was really that necessary to get a harness and some slings for such an easy looking route...- I was a climber after all, but Nic had a bad feeling and warned me against going further and, reluctantly, I agreed. Coincidently that afternoon on the radio we heard that a man had died the day before on the Chateau- Queyras via ferrata! It reminded me of the time when I was a kid when mum warned me off going on a rollercoaster ride to my utter disgust, then a week later a whole carriage of the train fell to the ground and 4 people were killed.

Maybe Queyras is best kept for hiking. We went up the Pain de Sucre... (which means bread with sugar on top) to experience the panorama of the alps with Italy on one side and France on the other. The mountain from a distance looks a little like its name (if you have a good imagination) but there are no bakeries for a while, so its BYO for lunch on the summit. There are also some mountaineering routes at Queyras, but we decided against them, (or rather I couldn’t wake up early enough for us to leave to do them) and instead decided to try some sport climbing. The rock looked magnificent; a stark orange limestone, with good views, but, after a few minutes our fingers were tender, and the thought of falling against rock thats like a cheesegrater meant for a short day. Yes, best kept for hiking.

Being so close to Italy, and with time on our hands, we thought we would have a little Italian jaunt, for no other reason than to say we had been to Italy and to pass one afternoon. (There is more than enough to explore in 2 months in the French alps which is an awesome summer playground, but why not!) Crossing the border though was like stepping back in time. Whereas rural France seems to keep up with the times, rural Italy seems to be sleeping. The old Italian local mamas and papas were out chatting to each other as we wandered around checking out the menus of the local restaurants. And all the houses seemed to be in various states of disrepair where the balconies would be lucky to hold wood for the winter fires let alone people. The roads were shit... and neither of us can speak Italian apart from some random musical terms which don’t really mean much strung together... legato, adagio, largo, ritardando, ralentissimo, crescendo, decrescendo.... so straight back to France.

Modelling in Sisteron - France

When there are only 2 of you climbing, it is rather difficult to get a good photograph. Whilst one person is belaying, the other person is on the wall and vice versa, so even if you have a self locking belay system, the photographs resulting are taken from an angle which mostly just portrays the climbers bum – the bum shot. So when one day in Orpierre an English photographer began taking photos of us from above, we asked to get copies from him. We got into a bit of a chat and found out that he was in the process of creating a climbing guidebook for the Sisteron, Orpierre and Ceuse regions. Along with some other photographer/climbers they would create a series of guidebooks in English for the whole of the South of France.

The Englishman then told us he was yet to photograph Sisteron and asked if we happened to be heading that way. We had to go to the American’s climbing shop in Sisteron to pick up Nic’s shoes, so yes we were going. He said he'd love to take some photographs of us climbing, and we said we would love to have some photos!

We arrived at the crag which lies opposite the town, and began our preparations. For any photography, the lighting and composition are vital, as is the wardrobe and the makeup. Unfortunately we couldn’t assist with the lighting, as it was outdoor photography, and we couldn’t be bothered waiting around all day for the sun to set, we also couldn’t assist with the composition, as the Englishman had already found the best angles to photograph from. We did however assist with the makeup and the wardrobe. Makeup involved smearing our faces and bodies (not purposely) with black grease from the rope as we were climbing. It was all over our almost brand new rope, and got there from oxidisation on the carabiners which hadnt been used for a while. And wardrobe involved changing into our brightest clothes which had already been worn several days in a row for climbing, but of course, you cant see smell in photographs. That way, us models could be spotted in the shots, which were really just for the scenery...

The Englishman clicked away happily as we did some nice routes in the blaring sunshine. It was so hot in fact that we were soon dripping with sweat; adding a glistening, glamour effect. (Nice on men perhaps; not so on me.) We didn’t even have to pose; he just took a thousand photos, so he could chose the best, and when we saw them, we were impressed....

The American in Sisteron - France

The American had been living in France for 20 years and ran a climbing shop in Sisteron called “The Blue Light”. We were recommended the shop from our friend Dennis for cheap and quality gear. There is no way we would have come across it without his recommendation and without having found a particularly detailed map and also asked directions. It is in the back lanes of Sisteron, a medieval fortified village in Provence where there are houses on top of houses, and the lanes all look the same.

Our conversation with the American began in French. Nic with his Britton accent, the American with his American accent, and me with my Australian accent and very few words... until I mentioned that it woud be nice and easier perhaps if we could all speak in English. We had come there particularly because Nics Anasazi 5 10 climbing shoes had been falling apart. They had holes in the rubber on the bottom of the shoe and on the toe; velcro that was too worn and didn’t do up properly and stiching that was ripping apart. He kinda needed new ones. He explained this to the American who was only too ready to share with us his opinion on how shit 5 10s were and how shit in fact most climbing shoes were. Typical American I thought; opinionated... lacking in substance....and Nic though the same... *sepo.

5 10s (a US shoe) are Korean crap he said. They used to be made in the US, but now they are mostly made in Korea, only the finishing touches are done in the US, and even what they do is crap he said. How much do you pay for them in Australia ...what!? 100 euro! Its so stupid; they get sent all the way from Korea to the US and then back to Australia. Crazy! He said. When he went to the 5 10 factory in the US the quality manager didn’t even know where the production room was...so that is why, he said he no longer stocks 5 10s.

And La Sportiva (an Italian shoe) he said, reluctantly were good, but way too expensive for what they are and not worth stocking. And Bolderinis (a French made shoe) were good, very good in fact and he even had some in stock, but they were also not worth stocking. That was because Andrea (Bolderini ) lied to him. Andrea had said that there was a special synthetic on the sole of his shoes which is very pricey but useful in a climbing shoe as it doesn’t stretch as much as leather, but in fact he was really using leather. The American had discovered it when he was working on some resoling; and had approached Andrea who admitted the lie. So, he said, he was was no longer going to stock Bolderinis.

So that left the American with not much stock.... ; the Tenaya and Boreal (Spanish shoes). But he did promise us that anything in his store (there was hardly anything there) would be cheaper than anything anywhere in the world! It was hard not to be a bit standoffish. Who was this American to be telling us that 5 10s were crap? Plenty of top climbers used them, and they worked well for us too. And how could he get better prices than any other distributer; bullshit!

But after talking shoes we began checking out his belay devices, as mine is twisting the rope and making it very annoying when trying to feed it through. I took one curious look at this strange device and he caught my eye. Its a Diablo he said; its something I invented. What!? How much crap do we put up with, I thought?! But then, the American was all too willing to go through the way he had developed the device, and all the different ways it could be used. How it improved on the gri gri in that it was auto locking but would lock whether you pulled up or down, how it could be used to belay 2 people quite easily, how you could use it to rap down, how it was particularly efficient in its feeding method and so on and so on. After developing the Diablo, he had sold the design to Edelweiss and it was now in mass production, but demand is still very high. Nic and I became intrigued. After that I couldn’t help but ask if he had put his mind to improving other climbing equipment, or developing other new devices ... and didn’t he like to talk!

After the Diablo came the stick clip drawer, which is going to be released by Beal. Very simple, but it elliminates the need to look around for some sticks to shove in your drawer to make the first clip, or any other clip for that matter. It is the size of a normal drawer, but auto clips itself. Inside the sling is a tube of aluminum which can be bent any which way to give you adequate reach to the next clip. Oh, it is a dream come true for someone like me who hates doing hard moves metres above the last bolt; particularly in Ceuse. I think Nic thinks its a bit like cheating, but I dont mind.

After the stick clip drawer came the “stick it,” a replacement for chalk which he invented for Beal. It is an oil which you rub onto your fingers and, amazingly, stops your fingers from sweating. No reactions have been documented, it smells great, and your fingers feel as though they could grip things all day. Indeed when you first put it on, it feels like you could stick to anything; spiderman fingers. Unbelievable!

Then there is the 50 gram aid climbing device. .... oh, he loved to talk.... and I’m sure I could go on now too....

Anyway, we bought every invention in sight, and even though we now agreed that the 5 10s were crap, after realising that no other shoes really fit Nic that his foot is moulded to 5 10s, and that the American was not just an opinionated sepo but rather a genious inventor and shoe revitaliser, we gave him Nic’s old shoes for a resole with Bolderini rubber which he still swears by (even though Andrea lied to him). The shoes now have a new life, and I have lots of new inventions. Yay!

*Sepo – septic tank – American.

40 cents for a pee!? - Ceuse, France

The public toilets in France are foul. They don’t get cleaned - at least not often enough. French have a reputation for being smelly... but dirty!? Everyone always complains about Asian toilets, but why don’t they complain about French ones? Often they cost 20 euro cents just to go in for a pee, and all they are is a hole in the ground! Anyway, I have discovered that most public loos can be opened without putting in the 20 euro cents. The door will open, but the light wont go on, so if you want privacy, you also get darkness, even in the day. When you are blind, everything is done by touch... perhaps this is why they are dirty? But then again, at the moment, we are dirty too.

It is impossible not to be dirty when we are camping every day. Climbing of course makes it worse. Fingernails and toe nails are constantly black; and sometimes after thinking I have developed somewhat of a tan, the reality hits home as I shower and rub off the dirt. Even after a shower, it doesn’t take much for our bodies to be caked in dust. But the campsite showers are often as bad as the public toilets. You have to press a timer button to get them to work, and so the water can flow for about 15 seconds if you are lucky or 2 or 3 seconds if you're not, until you have to press the button again. It seems that the busier the campsite, the more often you have to press that button, and the colder the water is. It is more frustration than enjoyment, and sometimes seems not worth the effort. Besides, someone stole our organic Marseilles soap and shampoo - of all things! - at Ceuse! - a campsite full of climbers! – such honest people most of the time :( - ................ at least a climber somewhere is clean.

After a while of staying at Ceuse we were invited to dinner at the mother of Nic’s friend, Guilleume's house. I was eager to turn up clean, leave a good impression, or at least not a bad one. So, after two nights of bivouacing, Nic and I made our own little shower with our hand basin and did the best we could but when we arrived at Michele’s, the first thing she asked us was whether we wanted to clean off in the pool before dinner! Well, that was what her nephews normally do after climbing at Ceuse she said. Lucky she didn’t mind too much that we weren’t so keen for more cleaning, just feeding; and what a feast!

Michele’s place is a climbing boys dream. A pool to cool off in, endless good food, comfortable beds, and a shower filled with fresh razors and shaving cream. She is also a physio, so can get stuck into those sore shoulders, arms, backs and any other injuries, with massages and other treatment. She even has a stash of clean boys clothes to lend her nephews and their friends when they go out on dates! Lucky Guilleume to have such awesome parents, and lucky us to get to meet them.

Say whose at Ceuse? - France

Ceuse is a worldclass crag. It is the united nations of climbing bums, and attracts the best of the best. There are people here we have met from Germany, Italy, Netherlands, Austria, New Zealand, England, Italy and the US. Everywhere you look there is another sponsered climber decorated with a climbing label. Mamut shoes, Mamut shirt, Mamut chalkbag, Mamut shorts, Mamut harness.... – there goes the Mamut girl. And Boreal shoes, shirt, chalkbag .... there goes the Boreal girl. There are lots of photographers around too, to keep the mags up to date with the latest onsites and flashes the climbers are making.

It is not every day that you rub shoulders with elite from around the world, but here there is a 6a (18) climb beside an 8a (30) climb at an area called Demi Lune. So, I warmed up on a 6a and right next door, the strongest girl in NZ, Mayan warmed up on an 8a! All around there are sculpted men and women with muscles rippling up the walls. Some rest after every move when they reach a bolt, and some pull on the drawers all the way up. Others climb more fluently and elegantly. We fell in love with a tiny little unassuming German girl who had no ego, and made no fuss after she cruised up an 8b (32) with pure style. The almost naked sculptures groaned and moaned at every move on the same climb, none of them making it to the top. Then, the little girl with her baggy daggy pants and shirt on, asked politely if she could have a go, after which they looked her up and down and with mock politeness replied “sure”. They were truly taken aback when she sailed through the moves smoothly, swiftly, silently; no sweat. They were breathless... we were breathless... impressive!

Its fun, but humbling climbing besides these people... Imagine playing tennis in the next court to Federa; or having a kick of soccer in the field next to ManU. These are some of the worlds best climbers, yet there is so little celebrity in the world of climbing. Chris Sharma (probably the best climber in the world) would have no worries walking down any busy street; but Federa would be lucky to get out his door.

We put to bed our star grading in Ceuse, mainly because every climb deserves 3 stars, and always the next climb is just as good if not better than the last. I kept overhearing everyone new to the area say, that anything they climbed was awesome (the Americans), or superb (the French) or so cool (the Aussies) and I havent heard a single complaint. Everything we did in Ceuse was worth doing, so we just stayed on and kept climbing. The walk in to the crag is quite taxing though; an hour or more up quite a steep hill, and an hour or a bit less down; committment; but we gave ourselves a break by bivouacing for a few nights at the crag itself. The climbs were also a little run out at times which tested the fear barrier. I am teaching myself to stop screaming when I take a lead fall, and to start “enjoying the fall”. It is easier said than done! After a bit of practice, instead of screaming and worrying all the other climbers and belayers at the crag that someone was hurt, they started to wonder what was so funny....

The invasion at Ailefroide - France

Ailefroide is a spectacular area at the base of the French alps which comes alive in the summer months. There are plenty of 8-15 pitch climbs to be done in the shade which makes for awesome days out without getting toasted. (Alot of climbing sites in France are south facing so in the sun where it is impossible to climb until the afternoon.) It is much cooler in Ailefroide than further south, and so at around 20 degrees climbing is comfortable. The rock consists of granite slabs, with not many hand holds, so the climbing is all in the legs, but they are really enjoyable, sustained routes.

The campsite at Ailefroide is at the end of a cul de sac ( try saying that to a French peron) after which you can walk onto the southernmost glacier of the Alps – the Massif des Ecrins. It is not just the end of a road, but the end of the road for lots of families, who come to stay in the summer months. When we arrived there were 50 or so parties, and by the end of our stay, there were some 853 parties staying there!! Over the 2 weeks our campsite which had included a frisbee throwing area, yoga practise area, a slackline between two trees, a 5x4 tarp, a toilet block, a tent and plenty of different car parks was slowly invaded. We then couldnt play frisbee without knocking out the Swedish babies, my yoga was confined to a mat, there were tents either side of the slackline and somebodies washing draped over it, half the tarp fell down in a storm, there were dogs sniffing around our food, we had to wait hours for showers, we could hear snoring from the neighbours tent at night, and the powerpoints at the toilet block were all taken up so I couldn’t recharge the computer.... people really do come out in summer!

After the invasion, we had to get up earlier and earlier to go for a days climbing. One day we arrived at the bottom of a multipitch just before a party of 6 arrived, much to our relief. One of the men asked me what climb we were on, and I told him we were on an easy arrete called Pallavar Les Flots. We had planned to do the climb which had been recommended to us as being very easy – around grade 4c (grade 10, 11) but worthwhile with its stunning views. We were in the mood for a cruisy but enjoyable day, so that suited us fine. The man who was leading the party followed us up. He was taking a group who had never climbed outdoors or on multipitch before, so they were quite nervous. The climb was meant to be 13 pitches, but after 10 both Nic and I looked and looked for more bolts to no avail. Every way up, the rock went into an abyss. Eventually the man who was leading the party behind us caught up to us at the anchors and looked at me with some distaste when we asked him if he knew where to go. This is not the right route he said, this is not Pallavar Les Flots. This is much harder, see, he said and he showed us his guidebook which was more up to date than ours and had newer routes on it. This is a ten pitch climb - this is it. Hmmm, it figures I thought, yes, it was strange that in our guidebook it looked like you went up the arrete, but in reality we hadn’t climbed up any arrete. So, as we rappelled down, we overheard the rest of his group moaning and groaning about how long and difficult the day was..... Part of me felt guilty and sorry for them............ and the other part of me started to laugh; you get what you deserve when you follow idiots like us blindly...