BA2012, End of School and Climbing Grad Trip to France

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 6^th 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.