BACK TO NUMBERS

Finally the weather crapped out...

Conditions so far have been absolutely perfect and I have taken advantage of them at my best! 

In the last weeks the weather has been gorgeous: perfectly cold, sunny, dry winter days. Every morning I would walk to work in the morning breeze, fully clad in my suit, my right hand powerfully clenched to the handle of my leather briefcase full of papers and documents. After the small uphill, a quick match with my left hand on the handle, and then it was full left hand training until the Court of Justice building. So dry, so sticky, no need for chalk. 

Up and down a few flights of stairs to raise my pulse and then it was time to go out for a goregous coffee in the sun before going back to the office. 

Fantastic. 

In the late evening, the temperature was perfect for a good session on my board, or on the Beast. Not a single chance has been left behind! 

Fortunately, these perfect conditions magically kept disappearing during the weekend, leaving room to foggy, humid, horrible days: no need to drive to the rocks, let's spend five hours on a single sheet of plywood of my board! 

In doing so, of course many projects went down. 

Many, like one. 

But I also did a single move that I had been training for a couple of months. I did it, then I kept going but fell on the following moves: I quickly realized it was due to old shoes, so I promptly sent four pairs to the resoler on the following day. 

I also completed my power endurance setup and found great joy in making my forearms and fingers explode in another way than simply repeating problems. 

The video shows how great this was: 

Then finally, I put my hands on the beast after (too) many weeks, with decent results. 6 kg left hand and 8 kg right hand on the three fingers slot; 12 kg and 16 kg on the incut rung, half crimped. 

I pity those poor bastards who are always climbing on rock: how can they thell whether they're on form or not? Climbing an 8b is clearly not enough, it could be simply due to good conditions and a bit of luck, or even - the horror, the horror - to simply climbing well a perfect sequence. The horror. 

How boring must it be, to simply go around in a forest, spot a problem with already chalked holds, drop the pads down and climb? 

Far better is having to connect holds on plastic, having to imagine incredible sequences never found on rock, contrived moves that would make the most eliminate problem look straightforward. Feet on the screw-ons only; no dropknees; compulsory matches and prehensions (no, not that side of the hold, that is out); horrible sitstarts: this is what I like. 

And more than this, numbers, numbers, numbers. Objective numbers: number of one armers; number of seconds on a hold; number of kilos added to a hang; number of laps on a problem. 

All within the domestic walls of my house. 

I wonder how one could do without this all.  

Perfect boulders and scenery? Dry rock? Good vibes of cameraderie and partnership? Ha! I don't believe it anymore. In the world of "soft 5 mins", "syked with da crew", "thanks to my sponsors" and driving scenes in videos, poetry in global climbing is dead. So why pretend otherwise? 

Làthe biòsas. 

CLIMBING, GRADES, FIRST ASCENTS AND PICTURES

For the third weekend in a row, I went climbing. I mean, real climbing, with real rock, crash pads, coffe flask, down jacket and cold. 

Despite the fact that climbing keeps getting in the way of training (for climbing...) I have to say it's been fun. 

I went back to Sassofortino after ages, and managed to open a new exit to a very old problem, the very first 7th grade problem in Sasso, to be fair, and probably in Tuscany, the good old "Shelter". Years ago I wrote a beautiful - or so I thought at that moment - story about the first ascent, revolving around how and why the first ascent was mine and not a previous one from a friend. Sadly I can't find this story anymore in my pc and therefore I don't even remember why the first ascent had to be mine. 

Anyway, the new line takes the upper lip of the boulder and goes left instead of straight up. It was late and humid when I did it, so probably my impression of it being Font 8b could be biased. 8a+? 

Yesterday, on the other hand, I went to Vivo d'Orcia, where with a good bunch of friends, I easily and quickly did nearly all the moves on a 7c+/8a problem by Michele Caminati, and that was really nice. After a couple of goes on the singles, I did it from the sitter dropping at two moves from the top. Unfortunately for me, those two moves are the ones that give the problem the grade, but I can still say that I've climbed the 6c+ part of an 8a. The important thing is that the 8th grade be mentioned. Because I climb for the beauty of the rock. 

Ha.

All pictures copyright and courtesy of Carlo Chechi at www.carlochechi.com

A SHITTY WEEKEND

This past weekend should have been another great opportunity to train on my Beastmaker and on my board, in my endless quest for the physical limits. I still wonder why I keep buying climbing shoes. Unfortunately, the Gods had something else in plan for me.  

On Saturday, I had planned to go to the Chiesina roof, because I wanted to put on (and use) my new climbing shoes, and given that I don't use them on plastic, the only chance left was to go on rock, but I was confident: the weather forecast was terrible, maybe it was the right chance to have an excuse and use the Hornets on my board!!! Unfortunately I woke up to perfect blue skies and a gentle breeze, so instead of having another coffee and going back to bed, I had another two coffees and waited for my friend (who is also the father of Italian 8c crusher Michele Caminati, and crusher himself) to come over and pick me up. Damn good conditions. 

Just the time to drive there and a quick stop for some coffee (because I had only brought a flask of it for the whole day) and we were ready to rock. 

Even with those perfect conditions, not everything was lost, and maybe there was still some chance to escape the dry rock and perform some sort of rewarding training; because the current state of mind is as follows: 

- rock climbing counts as a rest day activity (because it's still better than sitting in front of the tv; but not as good as going to the cinema); 

- board climbing on other boards counts as testing the form;

- board climbing on my board prepares me to be strong on the fingerboard; 

- fingerboarding on other people's Beastmakers counts just if I smash their PB's, but it doesn't count for my own PB's;

- fingerboarding on my Beastmaker is where it's at. The fucking real thing. 

Anyway. On Friday evening, between deadhangs, I took the time to build a small portable fingerboard, to help me warm up for those rare occasions in which I'd face some real rock.

There you go! That's how to put Mother Nature to good use! Spare the rock! Protect it! Hang the small board to a branch, and put some serious training in! Hell yes! 

After a good half an hour spent dangling from wooden edges, my partner decided that he wanted to actually climb. "Why?" I told him. "That'll ruin your skin! How will you fingerboard tomorrow?" 

He was not redeemable. 

I had to spot him. 

During a couple of attempts, while moving the pads for him, I tripped on my climbing shoes; I had taken my sneakers off because they false all the parameters of the deadhangs, so in tripping my feet accidentally slipped into a very tight pair of brand new Five Ten Team. Somehow, falling down, I also tightened the velcros. 

Hmm... 

"How can I take them off now?" I thought. "If I use my hands, I'll be tired for the next set of hangs... Oh Yes! I can slip them off in a strong double heel hook. Right on!" 

In the roof there's a strong heel hook for the left foot, but I needed one for the right one. I started searching. Almost completely covered by rocks and fallen leaves from ages, in the depth of the roof I spotted a seam. So I took a broom and started digging. Rocks, turf, leaves, all went out in a cloud of dust, and now I had a beautiful right heel hook to take my shoe off. 

I chalked up, and went. 

Did the first new moves, got to the heel hook, and unfortunately the shoe stayed on. Dammit! At least I could try with the left one, so I carried on. Fuckin hell! It stayed on as well. At that point I was so high (more than 80 cm from the ground) that jumping down was impossible. I needed to top out and get down from the tree. And that's what I did. 

This mishap completely ruined my fingerboarding session, and the day was consequently over. 

I took my shoes off and stared disappointed at the roof, with its new five moves and almost two meters of climbing that I had dug out.

Now I have to repeat all the problems from the new start. Damn: how am I supposed to train properly if climbing on rock gets in the way? I'll never get really strong. Sad but true. 

Sunday. 

After a tripes and liver based dinner on Saturday night, Sunday dawned cloudy and rainy. Yes! Brush the Beastmaker, quick! 

Sadly this time another friend of mine wanted to climb, so again I had no escape: before, he used to simply email me; then he started to phone me in the morning; now he simply comes over and rings the bell until I wake up and let him in. 

Crashpads, shoes, coffee flask, chocolate. Car.

Rain on the road! Yes! Fucking yes! 

"Wait a second. If it rains I can't hang the small board outside!" 

Frantic and immediate search for a nearby gym. I had trimmed my nutrition, energy drinks and Antihydral to be performing on the fingerboard between 14:00 and 15:00 and we couldn't drive back home and play as amateurs.

We found a gym. We went. Ahhh! It was open. Noooooooo! There was a competition! 

Fucking hell. 

Dozens of happy people climbing, smiles all around, fuck them. What was worse, there was no Beastmaker. I could have mounted my portable one, but everyone was already using liquid chalk! No one will touch my wood with liquid chalked hands (you see what I did there). 

Fuck me. Again. Two days in a row, I had to climb. 

Not only I climbed, I was also allowed in the final. How? I ask. I had given back my card empty! Dammit, someone must have seen me climb something. Never, never climb anything. 

Anyway, I was agonizing to go home and do at least one set of one armers on the incut rung, so when the final started I wanted it to be over as soon as possible. I was so angry that somehow I lost my concentration and started climbing well: powerful and precise. When I focused back again, I found myself eyeing the final hold of the problem, at roughly 3,5 meters from the ground. I looked down between my legs, on poor footholds, with the abyss below. I calmly downclimbed and felt safe on the mats. 

No one toped the problem out, so I won the Veterans' category of the competition, in which I was the only competitor. 

What a shitty weekend.