My first four months in Spain were fantastic! As you'd better know by now, I had a heck of a time doing all sorts of tings, meeting all sorts of people, going all sorts of places. But all in all, I spent too much time sitting on my ass doing too little. That's why my list of New Year resolutions sounded more like the lyrics of
Radiohead's Fitter Happier than anything doable for someone so lacking in self-discipline.
These last days have however made me hope that I will keep my resolutions for longer than just January. The trick is to find something that's really fun doing - so you forget the time - and great people to do so with (sadly this strategy doesn't quite go for my studies here). I have been exploring the university's swimming pool, a bouldering room, and today I finally got to go rock climbing for real! It's so easy when you have friends who help you get what you need to do so, and then bring you along! AND bring their Didgeridoo!
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| Never leave home without it |
Remember folks: this is January... In the mountains... The boys had confidence in Andalucian winter, - Lucie and I did however not, and were wearing wool shirts and long legged pants. Oh well, we managed. We drove from the city to the close-by village of Alfacar - one of the many popular climbing sites in Granada (which is the name of the province as well as the city).
What a perfect day: perfect weather, beautiful view, enjoyable melodies rising from a mix of the bells of hundreds of sheep and goats and their continuous bleeting.
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| Getting ready |
All in all we climbed three different routes of varying difficulty, however all of them on a level suitable for beginners. It wasn't always easy to find a good hold when they weren't painted bright orange/green/red/yellow/blue/pickyourchoice nor sticking out in front of me.
But hey! I did it! I went all the way up to about a cuple of metres higher than Michal (in the picture at the bottom), before I got stuck for the last time and were too exhausted to keep trying to reach the Oh-so-close top. I'm not disappointed. I'm as proud as can be! That point, - where I was clawing at bare rock, looking down, surprised by my lack of fear, - is located roughly 23m above our starting point.
I don't view myself as a particularly daring or excitement-seeking person. I'm far from being an adrenaline junkie - give me a good book and I'll be very content. The feeling I get from climbing is indescribable. By every little difficulty I meet and overcome on my way to the top, I surprise myself! My puls is running, I forget to draw proper breaths, my arms and legs are shaking, adrenaline is pumping through my veins, my reason is begging me to give up, lean back and relax in my harness. I keep going, in my head not understanding why and telling myself to stop.
What stops me in the end is not my reason, nor a lack of will, neither is it the growing feeling of discomfort I feel deep inside from seeing the ground beneath me being so far away. My arms are ready to come off... I simply can't hold on any longer. And so I finally lean back, trusting my newly bought harness, a creaking rope, and my attentive belayer.
And attentive he/she has to be! We all got a proper scare today when the piece of rock where Michal was looking for a good hold suddenly broke loose and came hurtling down the side of the mountain luckily hitting the ground a good way away from the rest of us. I guess Michal was lucky as well, seeing that he got away from a fall of about 8-10 metres with some bruises, scratches and aching muscles. We all saw it and felt it happening in slow motion, and I was honestly thinking: "No chance in H*** will this end well". It looked like he hit his head when he came to a stop against the rock, but after blinking a couple of times he assured us that he was fine, and with the help from Lukas - the shaken belayer - he descended the rest of the mountain side in a slightly safer way.
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| Minutes before falling |
Please don't worry too much, mom, We're being careful! Yet, it is impossible to avoid bruised and scratched up knees and arms. Sometimes Mother Nature draws blood. Like she did when I landed in a needle bush of some kind on my way down. Having said that: neither one of us thought it a good idea to bring sunscreen... So, to all you poor bastards enjoying a more northern January: I've got a sunburn! Ædda bædda!
As for the feeling of self-surprise I'm trying to describe, - any of you (who might or might not be reading this) know what I mean? When and how - if ever - do you surprise yourselves?
