Expanding comfort zones

As I described in my last post, I was getting a bit frustrated with my climbing performance in Chorro, in particular my lead head. Since I wrote that post things have been getting gradually better, and I feel like now I've slightly turned a corner. Only a little corner, and there are definitely a few big hairpin bends to go, but it's a start...

We spent the last few days in Chorro climbing with Helen, a friend from Bristol - Andy has already written about this in more detail. I really enjoyed Helen's visit, but didn't do a great deal of climbing - instead I used the fact that Andy and Helen were psyched for similar things as an excuse for a few days off, which was probably what I needed. We rounded off the Chorro leg of our trip and Helen's last night with dinner in a local restaurant with an entertainingly translated menu.  I had wild board in red wine - it was very tasty! Jabalí al vino tinto in Spanish, if anyone's interested...

I was definitely looking forward to a change of scenery though.  This arrived in the form of Chulilla, a spectacular limestone canyon about an hour inland from Valencia. We had stopped here for a day on the way south and really liked it, so we were excited about coming back for a longer stay.

A panorama of the gorge at Chulilla (made by Andy)

We also acquired a new visitor. Our friend Naomi flew out to join us for a five day trip.  I'd only actually met her twice before this trip. She sport climbs at a level more similar to me than to Andy (unlike most of the visitors we have scheduled), but both times we've met she has impressed me by seeming gnarly and insane, in a good way. The first time she was on crutches having completed most of a mountain marathon on a torn hamstring, and the second time convinced me to go fell running in the Lake District in the rain when I was still in post-thesis mode and hadn't exercised in months. I was therefore quite keen to work on my head issues and not come across as a total wuss!

There was an initial false start. We had an afternoon of rain, and then visited an "old school" crag where everything was at least two grades harder than the guidebook said it was (it's been a long time since I've seen Andy have to try so hard on a 6b).

The next day we visited Fantasia, one of the easier crags a few km away from the village. The majority of the climbs here are concentrated around 5+ to 6b, in contrast to the other sectors where there's only a handful of easier routes interspersed between all the 7's. I had set a tentative goal of maybe trying a 6a, but I after my dismal performance in Chorro I felt like I needed to ease back in to leading, so had intended to start on the easiest route on the sector, which was 4+. Naomi had other ideas though, and jumped straight on a 6a with the infallible logic that 'I'm going to be scared anyway so I might as well get scared on something hard'.  This turned out to be a great idea - the climbing on this particular route was amenable and the bolting friendly so after Naomi's successful ascent I managed to wobble my way to the top. Third 6a flash of the trip, and the first one where I didn't panic and try to clip bolts on a different route!

Naomi looking cool

It was then my turn to pick a route.  Feeling inspired, I decided to have a go at another 6a. This one was a bit steeper and had a tricky move round a bulge low down.  I managed to figure out the tricky move to reach a massive handhold on top of the bulge, but from there the last bolt was by my knees and I had to do a slightly committing move (an awkward mantelshelf move to get stood up on the big handhold I was using) to get to the next one. At this point The Fear reasserted itself and I had a little panic and down climbed back to the bolt - back to business as usual. I was anxious not to let the side down after Naomi's success though, so after lots of patient belaying and encouragement from Andy and Naomi, and lots of attempts going slightly higher each time, I finally managed to wobble up onto the hold and clip the next bolt. I managed to get another bolt higher, but got stopped by another committing move and decided I'd had enough. Naomi then dispatched the route in super quick time, but made noises about the moves being hard which made me feel a little better.

She then had a go at a 6b, a grade that I had always previously dismissed as too hard for me to lead. She lowered off the fourth bolt having got stuck on the hardest move, but set me the challenge of trying to lead up to her high point. With no pressure to get to the top, and having seen someone else try it, I surprised myself by being able to do it, even though I was quite scared above every bolt. When I got to Naomi's high point I was even briefly inspired to try to go higher, until it was pointed out that I hadn't taken any quickdraws to clip the next bolt with - this sent me quickly scuttling back down again.  A strategic Andy was then deployed to retrieve the quickdraws and fix a toprope.

Bolt sighted...

Must...clip...bolt...

Yay!

Overall, although I only succeeded (in a conventional sense) on one route that day, it was really satisfying to step a little bit outside my comfort zone in a relaxed, low-pressure environment. I had slightly forgotten how much fun it can be to have a go at stuff that I find challenging, while not taking it too seriously, making silly noises and throwing sticks at Andy (he was very cheeky - he deserved it!)

The next day continued in a similar vein, although a cold wind sapped climbing psyche to an extent. I had a go at a 6b (something I'd not normally have done) - I managed to lead a bit of it, and toprope most of the rest on a slightly slack rope. There was one particular bit I found scary - a sideways traverse out of a corner on some rounded holds - where falling meant taking a sideways swing. In the interests of comfort zone expansion, I spent a little while toppling sideways while making squeaky noises from progressively higher and higher in the corner, to the bemusement of the strong Spanish guys climbing the hard routes on the other side.  Naomi meanwhile put in a really big effort to second a 7a that Andy had climbed, and Andy managed to get his first 7b+ of the trip on only the second attempt.

On the final day of Naomi's visit we went back to Fantasia.  The gradual comfort zone expansion I'd been doing (with even really realising it) over the previous few days had paid off and I felt really inspired to try to lead something hard (for me).  I picked a 6a on the far left edge of the crag, which unfortunately turned put to be the only route on the sunny south-facing crag that was in the wind.  The hardest part of the route was two bolts from the top where you had to do a strenuous pull over a small bulge using a sideways handhold and a high foothold. There was a place where I could stand in balance just below this, and I spent a long time there trying to calm down and pluck up the courage to do the move. The wind was whistling round the edge of the crag and I was getting colder and colder the longer I stood there, so eventually when the wind died for a few seconds I went for it.  Scrabbling around above the bulge I found a hold at the base of a very spiky bush (although I didn't notice the scratches until afterwards), clipped the final bolt and kept going to reach the lower-off at the top.  There was an awkward moment where I was level with the lower-off but couldn't reach to clip it because the holds faced the wrong way - this would normally have sent me scurrying back down, but I managed to keep my head together, find the hold I needed, get in a sensible position and clip the lower-off for my first 6a onsight in over two years!  I came down shaking, exhausted and covered in scratches, but exhilarated.

About to do the move...

Ow...

Naomi then had a go, but the wind picked up even more and she was being blown off the holds below the crux where I'd had my rest. After four days of climbing in a row we were all a bit tired and the rest of the afternoon was devoted to some hardcore sunbathing.

Lazing in the sun

Andy has also been expanding his comfort zone this week, but in a different way.  We've spent a couple of days at Sector Chorreras in the main gorge of Chulilla.  The sector is aptly named - chorrera means tufa in Spanish. Tufas are rock formations created by the same process that makes stalactites in caves: gradual build-up of small mineral deposits left behind by dripping water. The only difference between tufas and stalactites is that tufas are not detached from the underlying rock - they are formed by water running down a surface rather than by dripping freely.  This results in impressive formations that often look a bit like organ pipes or dribbly candle wax. The climbing on these structures is quite different from normal. Upward progress requires lots of twisting sideways, pressing outwards and bridging between tufa pipes, rather than pulling downwards on conventional holds.  Sector Chorreras is particularly spectacular - the entire surface is one enormous tufa formation.

Sector Chorreras - the black streaks are all dribbly tufas

The tufa pipes are so wide and rounded that there are very few normal holds, and the climbing is a whole body experience of bridging, jamming, contorting, udging and wriggling. Andy put in some huge efforts to onsight a 7a, a 7a+ and a 7b in this style (quote of the day: "so far outside my comfort zone I couldn't have found it with a map"), which involved contorting into positions I didn't even know he was capable of - my personal favourite was both feet and both hands simultaneously bridged out completely horizontally!  I couldn't get a photo because I was belaying attentively at the time, but it looked something like this:

Bridging for glory!

Since Naomi's visit we've had another set of visitors (which is why I've been so slow at updating my blog) - but I think I've rambled enough for now, so will leave a detailed account of their visit for another post.  Currently enjoying an impromptu double rest day (feeling exhausted!), some sunshine and lovely views...

Fear, frustration, falling...and foraging

Dear everyone who's coming out to climb with us this trip,

I am really really bad at lead climbing. I mean REALLY bad.  As in, I'm quite capable of failing on a 5 because of a lack of lead head - that level of bad.  Please manage your expectations accordingly.

Yours frustratedly,

Ali

The trip started fairly well, given how little climbing I'd done before we left, and in our brief stops in Catalunya, Chulilla and the Costa Blanca on the way down it seemed like I was making progress. But in the last couple of weeks, here in el Chorro, it feels as though I've hit a wall.  The weather hasn't helped with establishing a rhythm (although given what I hear has been happening in the UK lately I probably shouldn't complain too much about the drizzle we've been having).  But mainly, as always, it's my lead head that's been letting me down - I have a crippling fear of falling. In certain situations, e.g. on a traditional route above dodgy gear, this might be reasonable, but on sport climbing if you fall all that happens is you drop a few metres until you're caught by a safety system (rope clipped into a bolt drilled into the rock) of which each component could individually hold the weight of a small lorry.  I know my fear is irrational.  I've thought about it logically, I see other climbers take falls all the time with no ill effects, and I've caught Andy when he's fallen off routes more times than I can count.

Logic doesn't help though - as soon as I get into a situation on a route where I have to do a move that I'm not sure about, where there's even a tiny possibility that I might mess it up and take a fall from above a bolt, my mind goes to pieces. I get sweaty hands (not helpful), grip the holds too tight, stop trusting my feet, hyperventilate, etc, etc, and quite often am completely unable to commit to the move. No matter how many times I tell myself, logically, that it's safe, that Andy's not going to drop me (he'd never hear the end of it if he did), something about the feeling of the rope being slack and dropping backwards into the unknown sets off the primal terror part of my brain.

I know exactly why I have this problem.  I had a fear of falling when I started climbing, as I think do most people - I maybe have it a bit worse than some, but it's pretty common.  However, I've never really done anything to try to fix it. The only way to deal with an irrational fear of falling is to fall every so often to show your subconscious that it's not really that bad.  I never did this - I fell into the trap (one that I think maybe a lot of girls who climb with boyfriends fall into?) of usually toproping and seconding things, thinking 'I'm not ready to lead this yet, I'll come back when I'm more confident'.  The problem with this is that, as Dave MacLeod eloquently explains, if you don't actively work to expand your comfort zone it doesn't stay the same - it shrinks.  By never trying to lead anything scary, I've now shrunk my comfort zone to basically zero, such that now everything is scary.

Expectations vs reality

Another issue I'm having is dealing with my own and other people's expectations.  I've spent most of the last few years surrounded by climbers who don't see leading as a big deal, and who think 6a is such an easy grade that it's barely worth even warming up on.  I've realised I've internalised this idea and therefore see 6a as something that should be easy.  So far though I've only managed two on this trip and both felt like a huge mental struggle even though they were on days when I was climbing well. On bad days I've failed to climb 5's because of The Fear, and end up beating myself up because it "should" be easy.  It's a bit demoralising when you mention to other climbers that you're only climbing easy things, and they immediately start recommending 6b's that you should try - as things are going now they might as well be suggesting that I fly!  And The Fear means I can't just get on it and have a go anyway - I'd just end up lowering off below the hard bit having been too scared to go higher.  Sometimes the advice can be frustrating too: e.g. "I get scared of falling too: you've just got to forget about it and focus on the climbing". No, sorry - if you are capable of "just" not thinking about it, then you don't have the same problem that I do!

I know exactly how to fix the problem, but it's not very nice.  As I said, the only way to deal with an irrational fear of falling is to take some (safe) falls to teach your subconscious mind that it's not really that bad.  I did some googling to see if there was another way (there isn't) and came across a blog describing someone overcoming the same issue - she made a resolution on her birthday to take a lead fall for every year of her age.  I therefore picked 27 as a suitably arbitrary number of falls to aim for (if only I'd thought of this before my birthday last month!), although given the scale of my problem I thought 27 sets of 27 falls would be more like what's needed.  I did one set of these a few days ago when it was drizzling, off a slightly overhanging 6c.  Starting from nothing, going straight to taking big falls from above the bolt felt like too much too soon, so I focused this first session on taking drops from having my waist level with the bolt.  This gives a short 1-2 m fall as the slack in the system is taken up and the rope stretches, but still has that sensation of falling backwards onto a slack rope that I struggle with.  I managed a session of 27 of these, gradually trying to reach higher and higher up the wall before letting go.  As expected, the first was the worst, then each successive fall from the same place felt a little easier.  It surprised me a little how the fear came back every time I changed something though - I could fall several times from one position and it would get less scary, then I'd move one foot an inch to the left and suddenly felt as terrified as I had the first time.  It's a start, anyway - more work (26 more sessions, at least!) needed. Just got to keep going with it - I really don't like doing it and if I'm not careful I can always find an excuse not to.  Hopefully it'll be worth it in the end if, by the time we get back to Catalunya, say, I could relax and enjoy myself a bit more while climbing closer to my limit on lead...

If not, I'm not sure what I'll do. I could keep climbing but only toproping and seconding.  There's nothing actually wrong with this, and I really enjoy climbing when the fear's out of the equation, but for sport climbing it feels a bit like playing tennis with the net down.  I'd have to deal with my climbs never being counted as "proper" ascents by other climbers, and I'd always be reliant on someone else to climb my routes first to fix the rope up there for me.  Or I could get really really strong, so that I can climb harder without feeling like I'm going to fall.  But that's a lot of work, and there's still the possibility that one hold that's slightly smaller than I'd like could completely shut me down.  Or I could become a boulderer so I don't have to deal with heights, although I would then have to deal with my other fear which is awkward top-outs on boulder problems.  Or I could find a new sport entirely - if nothing's better after 9 solid months of climbing then at least I'll know I gave it a proper try...

Amptrax

In other, less whiny news, we did our first long multipitch route of the trip yesterday - the classic nine-pitch 6a Amptrax.  We have designs on doing some much longer, harder multipitch routes in the Alps and Dolomites later in the year, so this was good practice for remembering how to climb efficiently as a pair again.  For speed (since rain was forecast in the afternoon) Andy led all of the pitches (see above), and I just tried to focus on climbing quickly and sorting out the rope efficiently at each belay point.  The climbing was exciting, and steeper than expected, but felt a little insecure as the high humidity made some of the more polished handholds feel a little greasy.  In the end we only did the first five pitches because I was convinced I'd felt a few drops of rain and decided it would be a good idea to retreat. As it happened, the sun came out again halfway down the first abseil (the rain that was forecast for the afternoon never arrived), but it would have been a bit of a faff to go back up again by then.  We did all of the hardest bits though so it still counts!

On the way back I had a bit of a Ray Mears moment. I've been interested in foraging for a little while now, and a few days ago one of our new van friends showed me where to find wild asparagus. It grows at the base of one of the many types of prickly bush that make up most of the landscape round here. Presumably, if you leave it to grow, it will turn into more prickly bush.  Since we were running a bit low on vegetables for dinner, I decided to go foraging to see what I could find. I was semi-successful - here is my asparagus:

I foraged an asparagus!

It might be a while until I can survive by myself in the wild though! Andy very generously let me eat the whole thing - it tasted pretty much like cultivated asparagus but slightly more bitter...