The past
few weeks had been a mad rush of meeting project deadlines and preparing for
examinations; the final ones (hopefully) of my academic lifespan. In between
that, I managed to find time to train for Boulderactive 2012, as well as plan
for the France trip. I am rather proud of myself, having arranged for the
flight, transport and accommodation impeccably.
This year,
I managed to qualify for the finals of Boulderactive. Last year, I slipped off
the ending hold for a qualification problem, and that mistake cost me a place
in the finals. From time to time, that moment still resurfaces in front of my
eyes in an eerie flashback, as if taunting me, laughing at my inability to go
back in time to change things. It remains a stark reminder that all that
training can just come to a waste with one slip of the hand.
This year,
I was determined to not make that same mistake. My secondary school teacher
once taught me a Chinese idiom, “The person who falls twice at the same place
is the silliest person”. I cannot agree more. I made my attempts count, and thankfully
I earned myself a slot in finals of the competitive Open Men’s event. That my efforts paid off were probably chiefly attributed to a targeted approach of improving my weakness - slopers. I jumped off, latched onto and hanged off those dreaded holds like a mad man. I
eventually ranked 6th out of over 50 participants, which I think is
a respectable result. With that, I ended my varsity climbing career on a swan
song.
Shortly
after the event, I was whisked off to France for a bouldering cum climbing
trip. It was a dream come true, a pilgrimage of sorts for me - off to
Fontainbleu for three weeks and then to Ceuse for another three. Along the way,
I quickly learned how to handle a left-hand drive nine-seater minivan on manual
transmission. I cruised along expressways and chugged up windy mountain roads.
I drove in the dimmest dark and in the densest fog. The vehicle was
rocked by violent gusts of winds and pummeled with hail. From being hurled the
middle finger and expletives for cutting out a side road too quickly, to
driving on the wrong side of the road and almost swerving into a barricade, to finally
receiving a thumbs up from a bus driver for reversing into a parallel parking
lot along a one lane street seamlessly, I think I’ve grown a lot. All in all, I
drove over 2000km around France. For that, I give myself a pat on the back.
Halfway
through the trip, I received a sms from the school. After four years of slog, I
officially graduated with second upper class honours. Granted, compared to the
high flying first class honours, my own results pale in comparison. Given all my
other commitments and obligations, I tried to be the best that I can be. A typical
person ought to be proud of these accomplishments, yet at the same time, I
loathe to rest on my laurels, which leaves me with an awful conflicted feeling
of being satisfied, yet hungry for more. It appears that age has not done much for either my wisdom or my sense of self content.
In
Fontainbleu I watched old men in their lycra pants and decrepit lace ups walk
up the problems I have difficulty starting. They then proceed to leap across
boulders, some of them as high as six metres, before hopping onto ground
safely. They draw out their cigarettes, chatting about things that only old men
can chat about. I stare with my mouth agape.
In Ceuse I
watched local Frenchmen warm up on my projects without as much as a huff. The
place is truly a gathering of the most committed and passionate climbers.
Jonathan Siegriest, Adam Ondra, David Lama and Gabriel Moroni were just some of
the more famous climbing personalities we saw there. But the ones that really
astounded me, were the everyday climbers you see, who all climbed hard in their
own way. They are the unsung heroes. In particular, there was this male French climber, who I think cannot
be more than 25 years old. I was working on La Chose 7C, on the Berlin Sector.
He came up next to me and floated up Berlin 7C, without even breaking a sweat.
He put up the draws, and along the way, they barely clinked at all, revealing
the very smooth and controlled way with which he was climbing. After he topped
out the climb, he brushed all the holds along his way down. Can you imagine? He
is not brushing the holds for himself, but in consideration for the next climber who might come
along to try the route. Such is his level of etiquette. He was quiet and
humble, barely even drawing any attention to himself. It was a refreshing
contrast to climbers (of nationalities I shall not reveal) who like to indulge
in obscene levels of showboating. He then rested for a while, before proceeding
to crush Galaxy 7C and Makach Walou 7C+ in the same manner. What will ever
impede this guy, I wonder. He was finally stopped by a new 9a route (first
ascent by David Lama) to the right of Queue de Rat. It was a treat to watch
him climbing. I smiled at him as I walked past, hoping to convey all my earnest respect
and ardent admiration in the same wordless manner as he.
The trip
was awesome. I can’t wait for the next one.
