France - Part 1 : Climbing

As most of you know Jaren and I went to France. I'm sorry for the delay in writing about it, but I've been pretty busy. I'm going to break down my posts, because I tend to be the "super long blogger." So here we go with France - Part 1: Climbing...

We began our trip of France climbing in Fontainebleau. Specifically the area of Trois de Pignon. We checked out Bas Curvier on our first night, and were a little freaked out by all the sketchy people in the parking lot (and all the warning signs to not leave anything in your car because of thieves). So we headed to a little "less famous" place - and struck gold. Imagine white sand, black sandstone boulders delicately covered in moss (but on the holds your climbing), huge green trees, and a sense of history looming in the air. The ground is marked by huge craters - reminding you of a time that this area was not so peaceful and the land was being bombed.
As you walk to the bouldering areas, your passed by every type of person imaginable - and they are all there to climb. Everyone in this town climbs. Young to old - and I'm talking old. In the U.S. these people would be checking into nursing homes. The top outs are fairly tricky here, with a lot of slopers - which means "ugly face finish" pictures are to be had by all.
The French people were so nice, and friendly. In fact the only person Jaren and I didn't like was the only American we met while climbing. Some guy from Boulder. Arrogant.

Here's me getting a spot by 5 people! I'm not even famous - and I got this kind of treatment all over.
This next pic is one of my favorites. Jaren was actually pulling off this "hold." So tough. My hero.

France uses all kinds of crazy things to describe their boulders, one of Jaren's and my favorites was "magical." Little cheesy - but honestly, it was such a good tool for Jaren and I to pick out our favorite climbs. We just kept checking the guide book for the Magical problems - and we found a ton of them.

My favorite part of bouldering in France was the realization that I was doing something that I've always wanted to do. My love for climbing extends beyond the rocks and the moves. It's something deeper, that heals my soul. It creates an awareness for me of the big picture, and for those small moments when I can do nothing but pull really really really hard, I'm free. There's no work, there's no Army, there's definitely no upcoming triathlons... there's just the moment. Simple, pure, and beautiful.

In an effort to minimize the length on my climbing post, I have posted all of the climbing pics on the sidebar of this blog - so check them out.

"So... is it October in Australia???...."

Every once in a while I have one of those moments... The moment that by the time you realize the words that have left your mouth... the embarrassment has hit. Seriously? "So... is it October in Australia?..." Wow. Impressive.

That ranks up there with my sister-in-law's surprise to find out that Alaska was not, in fact, an island.

While my recent Moab-to-St. George trip was an unexpected and random vacation... it was also a gem of one liners to be remembered by... well... probably only me - and for not that long. It is in my attempt to preserve some of the hilarity that I relate a story.

We were in St. George. Climbing in Snow Canyon. Minding our own business - as much as you can without a guide book. We were having a good old time on this beatific climb. When out of the dust pops a group of pretty people, carved out of muscle, pot, and cappuccinos. The film crews followed suit. So I ask you - what do you do when people are filming obvious poser climbs? A jig! Wait for it.... now!






Needless to say - we didn't have our cameras. So I had Josh snap a few shots of my clever dance for all to see. It's a rough version... but you'll just have to use your imagination.