New gear! 70m 9.5mm Edelweiss bi-colour rope and a new pair of Testa Rossas. Best sport shoes I've had! A little cheaper in France than in the US, both the shoes and the rope. May make me a little heavy on the flight back to Canada, but I was well under on the way over so should be ok.
I climbed at a small crag near Olivier's house, with him, Clay, Julien Catalon, Julien's brother Stephan and his girlfriend, and a friend of Olivier's called Marie. Olivier is another close French friend of Clay's. We left at 5.30pm after everyone finished work, so we didn't have much time to climb. I think we did about 3 routes each, and nothing hard, although Clay did get up a heady 6a which had a tricky crux. It made me struggle a bit as well! Afterwards we all went back to Olivier's for a BBQ, which was a veritable feast; melon and Corsican saucisson, tomato and mozzarella salad, two different types of sausage, chicken, beers, red wine, and Muscat. We all talked into the night, and Olivier showed us photos from a recent catamaran trip he and some of the others took. Its evenings like these that make a trip special; with new friendly people, animated discussion, good food and good vocal chord lubrication, and a wonderful setting!
Finally got up a via ferrata after hearing all about it from Clay for years. Turns out its a well-protected jaunt up a ladder, more or less! Well, there is a little more to it than that, and it was fun even though it wasn't 'real climbing'. Apparently the system was invented in WW1 for getting troops with no mountain climbing experience across the Alps, and it became a popular easy alternative to rock climbing, to access places like the Bastille in Grenoble via the cliffs. A rope traverse and a suspended bridge (like from Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom) compliments the steel rungs set in the cliff face, and the line tracks around the cliff from the river up to the Bastille. Good fun to do once, but I'd rather technical rock.
DJ Nick's bucks party was held up in the mountains above the city, so a bunch of us hiked up with the surprised and clueless Nick in tow. He'd been drinking heavily after work with a couple of mates, so the hike really took it out of him (literally). Everyone had planned to camp up there, play guitar, have a BBQ and sink piss, but Clay and I headed down early in order to collect Steve from the train station. He'd arranged to fly in from London for a few days' climbing. It was great to see Steve again, but unfortunately we didn't get around to climbing anything really good when he was there. Logan came back for a few days (his partner for an Alpine trip had bailed) so we all sport climbed together. Late nights and later mornings, as well as an addiction to a new card game Clay acquired, meant that there was never enough daylight for a proper climbing adventure. I'm really a latte sport climber now anyway; multi-pitch adventures may be Steve's bag but they are not really mine right now. Steve and I did get up a 5 pitch sport route, but the man wasn't feeling the best and the day was a bit hot for slab. After Logan and I took Steve to the train station so he could fly back to London, we cruised out to Comboire to try some hard sport routes. I managed to onsight a soft cruxy 7b, but after that I was unable to make progress on anything harder. The routes here are hard, and I've lost some form over the wedding trip!
Friday, July 29, 2011
Thursday, July 28, 2011
France
So the time-honoured spectacle of the wedding dance! Only I didn't know the steps, but luckily I didn't really need to. Clay had that all sorted, including acting as tour guide for us all! It was like watching a foreign film with no sub-titles, and they weren't necessary because the actors knew how to portray emotion and drama and comedy, and that special familiarity strangers quickly attain when someone in the group really knows how to connect everyone. Clay and Katya are two of those people, connecting the Australian Boladeras cast with the Mexican ensemble, and both with the French contingent. Oh, and there were Kiwis, Swedes, Austrians, Canadians, Italians and Spaniards... Sometimes there was hasty translation from English to French to Italian, and Mexican to French to English, and English to Scott-French and Scott-Spanish to something someone could hope to understand and interpret for everyone else! It was a marvelous occasion the wedding, a true testament to the quality of character of the hosts and participants.
The ceremony itself was a brief affair, and a well oiled procession of processes deftly handled by the city's beaurocracy. We were alotted half an hour to dispense with the formalities, then the whole party were quickly ushered out so the next marital union could take place in the town hall. But no matter the wind at our backs blowing from the Hotel de Ville, Clay and Katya made sure to greet each and every attendant of the ceremony and pose for photos on the steps.
After that most of us followed the bride and groom across the busy Jean Pain Boulevard Saturday traffic to the gardens where the 'official' photos were to be taken. Luckily the mari et femme have a couple of friends who just so happen to be quite handy with a lens, so no expensive photographer was needed.
Later in the evening we all went up to the beautiful Chez Le Pèr'Gras, a restaurant above the Bastille with a wonderful view over the whole valley, and attended the reception. Clay and Katya put in a great effort organising the food and drinks, DJ Nick was roped into supplying the beats, the incomparable vocal talents of Amandine silenced the crowd, Kiwi Jeff brought his guitar, and not a few of us brought each other and I'll say all the gathered guests to tears at speech time. The two Juliens spoke wonderfully in French, Spanish and English about both Clay and Katya, and the Boladeras girls bravely said some Spanish pieces in their speeches. Notably absent where the two fathers, who were sorely missed but respectfully and joyfully included in the celebrations through words and images. Mum had a slide show accompany her speech, and Dad sent a letter to me with a few words he wished me to say on his behalf. Luckily I read the letter over a few times beforehand, as I felt I needed to make some legible notes in the margins so I wouldn't stumble over his hieroglyphical handwriting at crunch time! And then there was the emotion of watching Clay's reaction as I read his absent father's words to him. No there was not a dry eye in the room! But happily Clay and Katya will be over to Mexico soon enough to see Katya's Dad at home, and home to Wonganoo to see our own father before too long.
Apart from having lots of quality time with my brother and his new wife (and mother of his pending child), and with my own mother and sister, I most of all enjoyed the time I spent climbing and talking with Julien 'Pish' Pichot and Julien 'Chamoise' Catalan. these are two of Clay's most wonderful friends, and true Frenchmen. Pish is a great student of fine food and fine wine, and has a voracious appetite for learning (especially all the 'bad' English words). The time we spent together at Ombleze has formed one of my most treasured memories from this trip so far. Chamoise is the most sensitive and emotionally mature gentleman I've had the pleasure of meeting. A conscientious host and expert guide, and the perfect whit to loosen up with a few wines! They will both miss Clay when he moves back to Australia, and he will miss them doubly I'm sure.
The remainder of the time that Kelly and Mum had in France was spent touring around the city and the mountains, as well as a little bit of climbing at the local crags. Mum consumed all things French with an appetite long suppressed by decades of rural enchainment and the burdens of financial responsibility, and I could tell this little trip abroad will no longer be enough to sate her wanderlust.
The ceremony itself was a brief affair, and a well oiled procession of processes deftly handled by the city's beaurocracy. We were alotted half an hour to dispense with the formalities, then the whole party were quickly ushered out so the next marital union could take place in the town hall. But no matter the wind at our backs blowing from the Hotel de Ville, Clay and Katya made sure to greet each and every attendant of the ceremony and pose for photos on the steps.
Clay and Katya at the Town Hall (Hotel de Ville) getting matrimonially amalgamated
Mum (white top with back turned), Pish (blue shirt) and Kiwi Jeff (brown jacket)
After that most of us followed the bride and groom across the busy Jean Pain Boulevard Saturday traffic to the gardens where the 'official' photos were to be taken. Luckily the mari et femme have a couple of friends who just so happen to be quite handy with a lens, so no expensive photographer was needed.
Later in the evening we all went up to the beautiful Chez Le Pèr'Gras, a restaurant above the Bastille with a wonderful view over the whole valley, and attended the reception. Clay and Katya put in a great effort organising the food and drinks, DJ Nick was roped into supplying the beats, the incomparable vocal talents of Amandine silenced the crowd, Kiwi Jeff brought his guitar, and not a few of us brought each other and I'll say all the gathered guests to tears at speech time. The two Juliens spoke wonderfully in French, Spanish and English about both Clay and Katya, and the Boladeras girls bravely said some Spanish pieces in their speeches. Notably absent where the two fathers, who were sorely missed but respectfully and joyfully included in the celebrations through words and images. Mum had a slide show accompany her speech, and Dad sent a letter to me with a few words he wished me to say on his behalf. Luckily I read the letter over a few times beforehand, as I felt I needed to make some legible notes in the margins so I wouldn't stumble over his hieroglyphical handwriting at crunch time! And then there was the emotion of watching Clay's reaction as I read his absent father's words to him. No there was not a dry eye in the room! But happily Clay and Katya will be over to Mexico soon enough to see Katya's Dad at home, and home to Wonganoo to see our own father before too long.
Apart from having lots of quality time with my brother and his new wife (and mother of his pending child), and with my own mother and sister, I most of all enjoyed the time I spent climbing and talking with Julien 'Pish' Pichot and Julien 'Chamoise' Catalan. these are two of Clay's most wonderful friends, and true Frenchmen. Pish is a great student of fine food and fine wine, and has a voracious appetite for learning (especially all the 'bad' English words). The time we spent together at Ombleze has formed one of my most treasured memories from this trip so far. Chamoise is the most sensitive and emotionally mature gentleman I've had the pleasure of meeting. A conscientious host and expert guide, and the perfect whit to loosen up with a few wines! They will both miss Clay when he moves back to Australia, and he will miss them doubly I'm sure.
Mon Frere
Mum, me, Clay, Kelly, and cousin Shane
Ombleze
Pish washing out the spilled red wine from all his camping gear!
The incomparable Chamoise
The remainder of the time that Kelly and Mum had in France was spent touring around the city and the mountains, as well as a little bit of climbing at the local crags. Mum consumed all things French with an appetite long suppressed by decades of rural enchainment and the burdens of financial responsibility, and I could tell this little trip abroad will no longer be enough to sate her wanderlust.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)