December 2008 was an eventful month, an enjoyable adventure with highs and lows. I will explain…

Once I’d decided to go to Spain, I wanted to maximise my time away. My last commitment (not work) in November was to go and see the legendary Leonard Cohen at the Manchester MEN. So I booked my ferry to leave at 1pm the following day, fairly tight but doable. Well, Leonard was not a disappointment. Even though the tickets had been the most expensive by a long way that I’d ever bought, it was completely worth it. He was, not to over state it, AMAZING!! Fortunately, for the people around me, I had completely lost my voice. Otherwise I would’ve been merrily singing away to all the songs, so I had to put up with lip-synching. He surprised everybody by performing until 11pm, Tim and I were expecting we’d be back in Sheffield by then. So it was a late night and I had an early morning but I’m not going to complain about that. A few days before this momentous evening, I had been bragging to a friend that I hadn’t been ill at all for nearly two years- well, doesn’t pride come just before a fall!! Literally the next day my throat started to feel tickly and within a couple more days, my voice had completely gone. I felt pretty pants and it wasn’t the best state to be in to embark on an epic van journey to Spain. But…it was all booked, so Kodo and I left bright and early on December 1^st.

I estimated it would take me two and half days to get to Margalef (near Siurana, N Spain). During this journey having no voice was quite worrying at times. I realised I couldn’t call Kodo out of danger and I couldn’t really communicate with anyone, especially because I was trying to talk French!

Having spent quite a lot of time in France, I was enjoying being back there again, albeit driving through on the auto routes. I felt comfortable there, spoke enough of the language to get my point across and understood the way things work. Whereas Spain is not so familiar - I speak almost zero Spanish and it feels like a very foreign place to me. So in my fragile state, I was sad to say goodbye to France when entering Spain, I felt like the foreigner I was. I crossed the border at about 10am Wednesday morning and literally within about five minutes Kodo started to look very green around the whiskers. Oh crumbs (my new years resolution is to stop swearing!), I thought, she’s going to be sick. I recognised the signs- the pained expression, the tightening of the cheeks, the uncomfortable posture; it was all there. Oh crumbs, I was going to have to stop. But where? I was on the motorway, so put my foot down hoping I’d get to a service station before the vomit arrived. Trying to reassure Kodo I saw a layby coming up but my reassurance obviously had little effect, she puked up on the gear stick about 10 seconds from the stop- great!

I let her out and she proceeded to vomit about five more times, I have no idea why, knowing her she ate some undesirable lump of food and it wholeheartedly didn’t agree with her. Anyway, while I was cleaning her mess up, a car pulled in to the lay by and a smartly dressed guy got out. With a worried look on his face he came over and started gabbling Spanish at me. Well obviously I couldn’t understand a word and told him so. He was acting strangely but I just took that as the Spanish way. Anyway, with all my doors open to air the van, he started looking inside while he was talking to me. At this point, I had started brushing my hair and was trying to detangle the mess and was doing it away from the van. He followed me still gabbling away and the gist of it was that he had left a box behind had I seen it? Then it turned out there was a dog in it that had been left too. It all seemed a bit strange, why would you leave a dog in a box out of your car?

After pestering me for a while he finally went to my relief. Kodo seemed able to board again, so off we went. I noticed my camera bag in the back was open, I was sure I hadn’t left it open but didn’t think too much about it. Anyway, before long I came to a toll booth and proceeded to pay.

Well I tried to. I went to get my cash out, opened my wallet and realised it was completely empty!! I looked at the cashier in horror and quietly gave her my card. I realised the annoying Spanish guy with the missing dog in a box (yeah yeah), had done me over- welcome to Spain! Oh well, I shouldn’t complain too much, he could’ve taken so much more. The whole wallet, phone, passport, camera etc etc. I think he felt a bit sorry for me and somehow, I don’t know how, managed to snaffle my cash leaving behind the ferry ticket which was amongst it. Oh well, a good lesson learnt.

I put in some long days but to be honest sitting behind the wheel was probably the best thing for me at the time. I had my itouch to keep me company, I’d downloaded some pod casts before I left and it was quite comforting to have English voices keeping me sane on my journey down. I think I was in quite a fragile state due to feeling pretty ropey. Also I had no idea how my trip was going to pan out. I’d left the UK on a complete whim, I had no one to climb with in Spain and it all felt a bit daunting. The only guarantee I had of getting any climbing done was my housemate, Alicia, who was going to come and meet me for 5 days.

It turned out I had some friends out on a week’s holiday in Spain, in a place called ‘Oliana’, which wasn’t a million miles from where I was heading. So it seemed a fortuitous opportunity to hook up with them and ease myself into van living and the Spanish way of life.

When I arrived my voice was starting to return but I really was very under the weather and was finding everything a bit of a chore. What didn’t help was that it was absolutely Baltic!! What had I done? This was utterly grim. I felt like I’d made the wrong decision to come, there was no way I could climb in these temperatures and this weather was only going to make me worse. I had no heat in the van when the engine was off, so the long nights were not going to be great.

I really felt so down (as I said, I think I was in a fragile state) that I came very close to turning round and driving all the way home again, there and then! Not that I’m impulsive or anything…! I had to really talk myself out of it and at least try to make a go of it now I was here. I’m not a great fan of dosing up on drugs but I decided to go to a pharmacy and get stocked up, I was on the verge of going to the Doctor’s but the drugs did seem to help.

Having my friends there in their apartment was my saving grace. At least I could hang out there in the evenings and get some warmth into my bones. If I hadn’t detoured to theirs, I think I would’ve struggled to get better.

Anyway, I surprised myself by going climbing the next day. I did three 7a/+’s and enjoyed myself. There was nearly some sun and I was very happy to be climbing on rock, this is what I came out for! I had no expectations for these few days here, I was happy just to tag along wherever they were going and if I climbed that was a bonus.

The next day, we went to two different crags and I climbed all day and again surprised myself by onsighting a very steep f7b+, it was a nice day. The f7b+ was at a very good crag called Tres Pons, which I would really like to go back to but unfortunately Kodo couldn’t get to it. It had a little scramble descent, then a couple of step across’s about 40’ above a river, She got freaked out at the scramble and retreated quick smart. I had to take her back to the car, where she stayed for a couple of hours. Fortunately, she’d had a nice time at the crag we’d been to beforehand.

The next day we went to another venue, small and compact, that was very worthwhile. I managed to surprise myself AGAIN by red pointing a f7c+ first go. Although I was still feeling pretty rough, I could still climb. Thank goodness climbing isn’t strictly an endurance sport; otherwise I’d have had no chance. It was also a beautiful day and we were climbing in t-shirts which was a real treat. I was starting to settle into it all and counting my blessings that I hadn’t turned tail and driven home.

Having had a good few days with Ste, Rab, Martin and Dave, Neil, Ruth, Jules and Stu, it was time to head to Reus airport to pick up my housemate Alicia. It was another nice day and getting to the airport was a straightforward drive. Also, it’s quite small which I like. I always find it hard going to big cities or busy airports when I’ve been used to quiet times in the countryside- it’s always a bit of a shock- and navigating on your own can be stressful (Kodo hasn’t quite got her head round map reading yet!).

Alicia had spent a month in Margalef in November so knew the area well, which was handy as I had no idea where we were going. We found a nice spot to park the van off the road; this turned out to be my second home for the next two weeks. It was great for Kodo to potter about carefree, very quiet and generally most pleasant. Unfortunately, while Alicia was over we didn’t get the best of weather, it turned cold again and was quite an effort to get out of bed in the mornings, let alone go climbing. Also, the nights were long due to the time of year.

The first day was fairly pleasant and I was keen just to do some onsighting and sample the delights of Margalef. We headed for Raco de les Espadelles, which is one of the few crags that gets the sun and fortunately is one of the better crags there. We zipped up a load of routes and again I was pleasantly surprised by how I was climbing, all things considered. The routes aren’t massive but long enough to get into the climbing. I didn’t try anything hard but enjoyed all the routes I did and seemed to be moving well.

Next day was an enforced rest day due to dire weather, so Alicia showed me some of the other crags that I probably wouldn’t be climbing on this trip due to the fact that they get zero sun. They definitely wet my appetite and I’d like to climb on them at some point.

It was nice to have a walk and just be out in the fresh (wet) air. We then headed over to the Siurana campsite just to see what was going on there and hopefully get a hot choccy in the bar. Well they’d run out of the hot choccy but we ended up meeting a couple of Italian beekeepers from the dolomites called Christian and Renato. We couldn’t communicate very well but they were very friendly. They were also living in a van, like many other climbers in the area.

Next day was nicer and we headed back to Raco de les Espadelles and I had a good day because I redpointed my first f8a of the trip, a really nice route called ‘Transilvania’. I was starting to feel like a climber again. Until my trip to Indian Creek in October, I was struggling a bit with my climbing and motivation but I felt like I was really enjoying it again.

On the way back to our cute little camping spot, I got a text from the Italian bee keepers asking if we’d like to have dinner with them. Well what girl could refuse some genuine Italian grub? So we turned the van round and headed for Cornudella where they had hired an apartment for a couple of days to freshen up. It was a great evening, lovely to be warm and a nice encounter with two genuine gentlemen.

Next day was incredibly windy and very cold. I really don’t know how I managed to climb as it was grim- I think I was actually climbing in my duvet, if I could’ve kept my gloves on I would’ve! It showed me that I can climb in the cold but I have to be very psyched for the rock and the routes. I think these days Britain in winter is just a step too far and I’m not psyched enough to climb the routes that are nearby. Obviously I will go out and potter every so often but part of why I like climbing is the physical challenge, so climbing an f8a in December is what I would prefer to be doing. Ok maybe it’s not as adventurous but it’s fun!

Poor Alicia just wasn’t into it and kindly belayed me but her body just wasn’t up for climbing and she was going home the next day to do an epic 75kms race.  She’d come out for a five-day period and got two days climbing in- that’s commitment for you.

Once I’d dropped Alicia back at the airport I was truly on my own. Fortunately (and this is how things seemed to work) she had a friend Ali, who was living in Reus. I got in touch with him and he was coming to Margalef on the next day with a Norwegian guy called Steini, who seemed to be living on the Siurana campsite. They were cool with me climbing with them for the weekend- RESULT! After that who knew what was going to happen.

This was the first time I had gone away on a climbing trip on my own. Obviously, when you go climbing you need someone to climb with and I’d always liked this to be organised beforehand, then you know your trip is sorted. So doing it this way, not knowing who I’d be climbing with was a bit daunting. I was desperate to climb and wasn’t looking forward to the prospect of twiddling my thumbs for days on end.

Also, you are at the mercy of what others want to do, which crags they want to go to. One has to just go with the flow a bit more and maybe not be able to be as prescriptive about your climbing.

Well I needn’t have worried too much. I certainly didn’t take any enforced rest days and the people I climbed with were great company. I did end up climbing at crags that I wouldn’t have chosen to go to and consequently they were almost like training days. I knew I wasn’t going to achieve any ticks at these venues, so I made the best of things by getting on routes that weren’t my style and essentially working my weaknesses- not a bad thing. So I would say on a trip like this, it was certainly true that not every day was productive in a ticking way.

It was a different but very enjoyable climbing experience, very much about meeting people, making friends and climbing with a slightly different attitude. I think I definitely gained something from embarking on this trip.  

The weather remained very mixed- in the main, pretty cold, but one day I excelled myself in the ‘climbing in the cold’ event. There was no sun and quite a bit of wind, so it didn’t matter if we were at a shady crag. So we found a sheltered spot just opposite the river where my van was parked, which had a steep, long crag. This was perfect, especially as it rained later on too. Some of the routes at Margalef aren’t super long but this crag had longer climbs, which I prefer, so I was happy. It was really very cold and taking any layer off to climb was an ordeal but I managed to redpoint a very good f8a called ‘Doctor Feelgood’, first go. I dogged up it more just to keep warm, found it all ok then redpointed it next go. There was no way I was going to be able to motivate myself to climb again that day, so it was first redpoint or not at all. So I was pleased with that effort.

After, these few days, Steini said he’d be up for coming over to Margalef until I had to go home. He was trying to redpoint a very steep, short f8b+ on El Laboratori, whereas I was up for climbing up at Espadelles. So we came up with quite a good system of belaying each other on our rest days- it worked really well.

I was happy with my two f8a redpoints and I wanted to try some harder onsighting but things just weren’t panning out that way. I think the main reason was that I wasn’t fit enough to onsight as hard as I wanted to because I just hadn’t been able to get enough mileage done (mainly because of the weather)……