Winter’s coming

First the rain.  Everything’s wet. The cold.  Days getting shorter and darkness falling at 18:00.  But that’s all right.  The worst is when the itch arrives.  At first it goes unnoticed, a small side-note at the back of my head: “I cannot will not climb outside today.”  Sometimes I even welcome it as a short rest from the packing, walking, route finding, leading, worrying, belaying, running, and worrying again that happens before every climb I do in the Elbsandsteingebirge.  The leaves pile up above the ground and the itch grows stronger: “Yet another day without real rock.”  And then I start missing the suffering, achieving, overcoming, laughing, enjoying, and sharing that takes place during a typical climbing day.  The first early snow.  Anxiety kicks in: “Could I have climbed that route? Did I really climbed those routes in proper style? But I haven’t climbed enough this year!  So much still to do, all those routes and not enough time!” and on, and on, and on …  In despair I start to train, to practice, to re-learn.  “I’m not fit.  I need more endurance for that route.  I should pull harder for that sequence.  I do not trust my feet on friction slabs.“

Sleeping. Waiting for me to try them

And then something changes.  In the dark damp nights I brew projects and challenges.  I try to objectively assess what happened during the year.  In many ways, 2011 was incredible: 81 different routes on 45 different peaks.  Great lessons were learned on each one of them. But I am even more proud of getting to climb with so many partners this year.  Novice or experienced, their drive fuel my hope.  With such hopes, partners, and lessons (and a good deal of self-delusion) I convince myself that I really could finish that route, that I could try that test-piece.  And with the planning, thinking, and discussing the temperatures drop and the first real snows arrive.  Winter’s here and I can’t wait to scratch my back! Time to run, hike, get exhausted.  Explore new areas, find those elusive ice waterfalls.  Double-days, push, pull, throw some weights.  Then rest.  Rest some more.  Above all think a lot. Snow grows heavier and eats up the noise. For some time my mind slows down and grows quiet.  It’s the middle of winter and maybe I am ready to climb again.

Even without climbing the views are worth the visit

El lloc es aquí: What’s in a name?

How could I have chosen such a hard name? It’s not catchy, simple and I cannot even pronounce it properly.  I also got red numbers when checking the check-list suggestions for good blog names (Must describe your blog in few words, no; use target keywords with high search volume, huh?; make sure it is readable, easy to pronounce …)  Was I dooming the blog to the dead-blog-cemetery just because of its title? (oh look, I got this one right, make it original :))  So to justify my choice, I inaugurate the Story section with the following:

– “Uy, uy, uy! That was the exit.”

– (with beaming little black eyes) “Where?”

– (blushing) We just passed it …

– “Arrrgghhh! ______ (add here your favorite colorful spanish insults). Where is the next one?”

– “Uuuuuuy, no. Twenty kilometers ahead, we go into the city and return…”

No use blaming the map.  Everything was written, bold and clear.  So, come on, you’re stuck inside the car, your only responsibility being reading the map, in broad daylight, on a straight autobahn with nothing but green fields around you.  How did I get so distracted?  Well, the thing is that ever since my first climbing road trip I’ve had two traditions.  The first one has always been the road trip music choice.  We’ve always had a couple of carefully chosen CDs to suit our mood.  So if night was falling and a snaking path was coming soon, the pilot would say:

“Bobby, ponte al Mago“

And always I sing along.  Oh yeah, when left alone or among old friends I love to sing loud and clear.  Of course, this makes the trip much safer (Imagine, what pilot would sleep to the sound of: uooooo, uooo, uoooooo…. sweeeet child of miiiiiinnne).  Anyway, that day I wasn’t singing.  In fact I could not understand a word of this song.  Very strange when it was a CD having mostly spanish songs.  Huh? Emiliano Zapata? I know that name!

– “Play it again, play it again!  It’s catchy but I can’t understand a word about it.”

– “Ah! That’s from a catalan group about Emiliano Zapata.  It’s very, very nice. Listen carefully.”

… and after ten more rounds of playing, going back and simultaneous translation what remained was:

La terra es la mare, el moment és ara, el lloc es aquí (earth is our mother, the moment is now, the place is here)

Maybe a cliché, but it was as simple as that.  Something inside clicked and I thought that now my place is here, Saxony. No escape from it, so I might as well explore it and share it with others.  All thanks to Don Emiliano Zapata (and for those musically inclined, to Lax ‘n’ Busto, now one of my favorite catalan groups).  And there I was in deep and meaningful thoughts when the exit appeared.  Because the second road trip tradition has always been to miss at least an exit and get hopelessly lost.  And that’s also an interesting story that goes back to when…

– “Arghhh!! ______ (again add some more very colorful spanish phrases).  ROBERTO!  Please focus and tell me where is that exit!”

– “Uy! Aquí, aquí, aquí!”

  What are your favorite songs for all those climbing road trips?