Ceuse to Siurana

Dave gave me this plant before he left Ceuse, haha :)

The cold drove me and Mau out of Ceuse. We were stamping our feet under Biographie on the last night, chanting "hace frio hace frio hace frio." Then we split up: Mau caught the bus; I stumbled trains. Then from Tarragona, I hitchhiked into Siurana - where my spanish meant nothing (everyone speaks Catalan.)


I was disoriented, depressed, and tired from traveling alone...so when we walked into the bar in Siurana, my brain made a popping noise. Although slightly deafened from the mix of languages flying across tables, I could hear the hiss of deflation as my brain shut down.

The room, lighted and ready to burst, was PACKED with climbers! I met Philipe, Flo, Matt...more people than I can even remember. It was really bad - I was forgetting names right and left there were so many strong climbers and semi-familiar faces. After that, the nine days in Siurana was the BOMB. Petzel threw a party with fire-dancing and music, then the bar closed for two days and everyone grumbled about the dearth of beer.

My friend was on the Petzel team and already had a belay partner, so I bounced around the camping meeting new people, bartering honey for toothpaste with Voldi and Mariana, my Icelandic neighbors (hey guys, is Voldi's name spelled right???) and eating with real characters. I grumbled about life and made russian rice with this guy Seth, watched cartoons with Miha, and relaxed around fires with people.

Climbing with Miha was crazy. We climbed in Montsant, near Siurana. He belayed with a YoYo. His rope was pink, old, and fluffy. And we had only 8 draws, so we had to skip bolts - this is amazing mental training. Just come from Ceuse and cold temps, I could barely work on Hydrophobia, and rest once or twice on a muy larga, super-chossy 7c.


Then, London.