Kalymnos

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Kaly-, (greek) prefix, meaning good, beautiful…

We arrived at Kalymnos on a stormy Thursday night after looking at it from afar (Kos) during the whole day as, no big ferries could cross the tumultuous waters to take us and our camper van. Finally, the wind decreased and we were right on time for a Greek dinner at Tsaki’s living room. We met a few late-season climbers who were enjoying the now peaceful crags atmosphere. After a chilly Fix beer, a Greek omelet and a feta feast, we were ready to sleep facing Telendos with the van being rocked by the gusts; and still dreaming about how it would look like for real. Kalynykhta!

Kalymera! On the following day, the greatness of this mythic place was up to our expectations: climbing paradise, stunning landscape! Tufas everywhere – tufas to squeeze, tufas to sit on, tufas to stand with no hands, tufas for knee bars, drop knees, unseen tufas’ shapes, unheard tufas names (kalypipes, brocolis…), tufas, tufas!

We spent one month climbing and trying to avoid the rain (somehow always possible in the island of the beautiful waters) at different sectors : Panorama, Grande Grotta, Arhi, Kastry, Ivory tower, Odysseia, Olympic, Noufaro, Inspiration…Along with fellow climbers: Jesse from Australia, soon heading to the Moroccan swells; Elise, an American from Squamish; Gerry, the steel oldschool Sheffield lady who’s now local; Chris, another English escaping her majesty’s rains, also, currently living in Kalymnos; Alex, bold French skier developing rock skills for a guiding title; and, Sone, on crouches slowly recovering a freshly broken foot on a top rope diet, Norwegian. We alternated steep, fun tufa climbing with friendly, spicy warm dinners at each other’s studios and our van. Kalyspera!

Rainy days brought up another surprise: surfing is possible in a wintry Kalymnos, and – as for the mediterranean in general – the Aegean sea produces some short spells of swell under stormy winds. Not to be wasted whenever there’s a board around!

After one month and two days of Kalymnian rock, generous on-sights, rains, Quercus chasing hundreds of street cats – bringing some balance to this insular habitat -, goats and feta cheese in dramatic proportions, baklavas sweetness, one alternative Christmas dinner, one New Year’s eve (Kalyhrona!) and lots of more rain, we decided to hit the sea.

Orco Trad Meeting 2012

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Sunday the 16th of September. We’ve just arrived to Ceresole Reale and so finished another driving periple across Catalonia, France; the gigantic tunnel of Frejus and a last smaller one that led us to the late afternoon light and the chiller than at sea level temperature of Vall dell’Orco.

The event flag was hanging from the front door of a nice alpine Italian construction; inside, a warm room and three gentlemen wearing the for now on official yellow badged jacket, “checked us in” with smiles and promising hospitality. A short briefing followed, introducing everyone’s faces, life basics and climbing organisation for the next six days. Cool atmosphere and psyched could be felt! First evening dinner together and bed time.

Big morning action (8.30am) outside of the dorm building. According to what would be the daily routine, a type of relaxed army call – poster with climbing teams and related routes/crag names in hands – and laughing mobilisation occurred. Here we go, kindly driven and oriented to the bottom of amazing granite/gneiss pieces of rock. Day after day, hand palms and fingers got more wounds and swollen, meters of crack climbing accumulating and recurrent lines names and settings were discussed at dinner table along with epic Italian menus…good stuff! 

Thanks WildCountry and the great organisers, namely Mauro, Claudio and Angelo for such a friendly, fanatic and enjoyable meeting; for the opportunity to climb and hang out with people from such different cultural backgrounds.

* Excerpt from text originally featured in, “Orco Trad Meet 2012, Una settimana di grande scalata”. Club Alpino Accademico Italiano - Annuario 2012-2013 p. 64-65

Pete Whittaker rehearsing the moves of a new route (Pump up the Pony).

Pete Whittaker, my assigned climbing mate for the week, rehearsing the moves of a new route (Pump up the Pony).

Delta Minox

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Six o’clock in the morning, the alarm is ringing a bit earlier than usual – as of a sudden I’m out of bed strongly motivated by the journey ahead. The same must have happened to my partner who arrived to our wheeled place fifteen minutes earlier than what had been agreed the previous day. By such fact and his face, I was led to think and asked if he had rested properly or if we shared the same stormy sleep! With a childish smile and positive answer he came in…

While we were having coffee, observing the first lights touching the summits of Pizzi del Ferro (3199m), we started a conversation on snow climbs. Stefano humbly told me that he is a regular ski mountaineer, had been on the summit of Cho Oyu without oxygen but had lately devoted himself to rock climbing more than anything. Summed up with accounts of his free solo activities in Val di Mello, I felt confidence in our team while striding the long mountain path that leaves from Bagni di Masino to the bottom of Cima Scingino and from there on sharing the twelve pitches of Delta Minox (460m, 7b+).

In one of the attempts to find company for the bigger walls of Val di Mello, I was introduced to Stefano Dotti by Andrea Migliano - my rope mate from Lavorare con Lentezza. According to him, “Bimbo” also intended to try the 1988 chef d'oeuvre of Tarcisio Fazzini, Livio Gianola, Sabina Gianola, and Norberto Riva. My initial reading in one of the guidebooks informed that it is a contender for the more exposed multi-pitch slab climb in the Alps; the hardest of the central region. The web showed an interesting Italian account of a previous rope solo ascent, and I already knew the respect that the name of the route evoked to locals. From then on, and till the moment we started climbing, it seemed as if any variable could serve as an excuse not to go and discover by ourselves what the difficulties were.

When on the 5th of June 10am we started the first pitch of the amazing pillar, we were still seeing wet patches ahead of us that the last few days of heavy rain had left and a chilly wind was now drying. As we progressed, words and thoughts vanished, leaving space for real not wanted falls, as well as a succession of precise and precarious moves and gear placements. Eventually, a strongly forbidden Porco Dio! My clearest memories of this ecstatic day will always be the many moments of high focus, the belay views over the beautifully sculpted granite and surrounding alpine environment, the abseils from the summit with a cold purple dusk; the silent walk back to the valley and the warm late evening reception from Simone Pedeferri at Bar de la Monica.