Chatter

Bless me reader, for I have sinned. It has been nearly ten days since my last blog post. Which is unusual for me on a trip. I can usually witter on enough to knock out a blog every two or three days. “So, why the silence?” I hear you ask. Well, “chatter” is the answer.

One week ago we moved from the coast to a place called El Chorro, famous for the Caminito del Ray (more on that later) and climbing. We were there for the climbing and booked a spot for Gandalf at Casa la Paz within walking distance of the climbing areas. We had considered wild camping, but because most of the climbing is inside the national park, finding spots is tricky. Besides, we fancied a shower at the end of the day.

The resident dog at Casa la Plaza pretending to guard Gandalf

It was here, at Casa la Paz that the first instance of chatter stopped all hope of an evening sat joyously tap, tap, tapping away on my phone to create a blog for your edification. For it was here that we met Mr & Mrs H from Germany, though living mostly in Austria. The problem was that they were just so darned nice that every evening, when I should have been doing the tap, tap, tapping thing, I was in fact doing the chat, chat, chatting thing.

The delightful Mr & Mrs H who foolishly shared their wine and steak with us

Added to that the fact that for six days in a row we did between seven and eight hours climbing and or hiking each day, by the time we returned to the cosy embrace of Gandalf (our campervan for those new to the blog), I was too tired to do much more than crawl into bed. A tricky proposition since “bed” is in the roof and requires more of a climb than a crawl.

The subject of “chatter” came up again on a climb that Mrs P and I did later that week and after the delightful Mr & Mrs H had left for pastures new. In brief the climb is called "“Three-Sixty” and is described as a great mini-adventure, friendly in character with comfortable belay ledges. It had me at “mini-adventure.” Six pitches, so around 150 metres to the top of a large pointy bit of free standing rock with a lovely little abseil off the back.

Three-Sixty goes up the left side and down the right side (roughly)

So, Mrs P and I set off for our mini-adventure. Now, we haven’t climbed together for some time, but I think I know all of Mrs P’s little foibles when climbing. Such things as saying, “I can’t do it!” minutes before arriving at the belay to say, “I did it!” and her absolute insistence on meal and drink breaks regardless of the terrain. This particular trait has seen us dangling off some fairly impressive things while peeling a boiled egg.

Now she’s happy. Mrs P enjoying lunch a couple-of-hundred feet up.

However, she seems to have come up with a new trait; talking to herself. Maybe she did this before, or maybe she has mostly been too far away from me for me to hear, but I certainly don’t remember it from previous ascents.

It went something like this: She approaches a difficult bit, she looks at it (I may not be able to see her at this point, but I can feel the intense staring through the tension on the rope).

Shouts: “HOW DID YOU GET UP THIS BIT?”

The rest of this is to herself as she has no idea that I can hear her, unless it is shouted, as we are too far apart. I have highlighted the shouting in bold letters.

(pause)

“I CAN’T DO IT!”

(pause)

“Oh, maybe if I (grunt)… and (groan)… and…”

“TAKE!”

“Take” is the climbing phrase used when the person on the end of the rope thinks they might fall and wants a tight rope for security i.e. to stop them falling too far.

“Hmmm… (pause) I know, if I just do this and… oh, but that means I can’t… Hmmmm!? Ah, but if I just (grunt)… and then, (huff!)…

I can feel she is moving up as I take in the rope then…

“TAKE!” (Thud)

“Did you fall off?” I ask.

“A little bit.” comes the reply.

This muttering, grunting, groaning, huffing and puffing interspersed with the running commentary and exclamations such as "“Tarnation!”, ““Darn it!” and the old classic, “ I CAN’T DO IT!” can go on for many minutes as I slowly take the rope in between me and her. Finally, she arrives, puffing and panting, at the belay point where I stand waiting. She then grins and says, “I did it!” What she doesn’t add, but doesn’t need to add as her tone implies is, “medal please!”

“If I just do that, then (grunt) this followed by a bit of… TAKE” - Mrs P happily talking to herself

Incidentally, when I say that Mrs P uses exclamations such as "Tarnation!” I’m not covering up for her potty-mouthed swearing, she really does save swear words for best. She was proper brought up was Mrs P. Unlike her uncouth husband who has no such compunctions.

Is it time for another snack yet?

Mrs P playing Peep-bo

It was a great route and I thoroughly recommend it to any climbers in the area. Not just fun, but quiet too.

Sending Mrs P off the abseil first to see if it is safe.

If you are lucky (you may think otherwise), my act of contrition for not posting more often will be for me to tell you all about our hike along the Caminito del Ray in my next blog. A super exciting gorge climb that relatively recent renovations have changed from one of the best via ferratas in Spain to an impressive, but somewhat tame hike undertaken by 3,500 people a day. Damn that health and safety!

At least that’s what I will do if I don’t get sidetracked by chatter again.

Looking over the edge on the Caminito del Ray