Donc, we thought it might be a good opportunity to grimper at Les Calanques: a spectacular limestone setting just east of Marseille and close to the beautiful coastal village of Cassis. Think deep limestone canyons emptying into the shimmering Mediterranean with phallic towers and cliffs everywhere that are generally well-bolted. Yeah, do want.
But, before we took off we wanted Jesse to get a chance to experience the incredible skiing that the mountains here have to offer in order to contrast coastal tropical climbing paradise. The days before we took off we found some several week old pow on the Glacier du Mort and Col d'entreves off Helbronner in Italy. He was pleased.
Hiking up from l'index.
Liz shredding it right.
Back up again.
Liz negotiating the rocks below the Aiguille d'Entreves.
This face is choice.
Jesse, feeling ready after a few years in a nice tropical island.
Anyway, we got sick of that crap and decided to go here:
We made some savage camping after searching for a bon spot for a few days.
The night we came in we went to Sormiou and experienced a nice sun set after scrambling around the seacliffs. We then slept in a ditch on the side of the road in order to best prepare our daily getting-lost-in-Marseille routine.
The village of Sormiou.
Tom looking for some nice falaises.
Tom's appetite for finding the deep water solo was soon whetted.
We had fun and got krunk as we watched the sun set.
The next day started off with some of the spectacular longer routes at Morgiou on the spectacular Cret Saint Michel and Polka. Tom warmed up with a spicy coupla' pitches of 6something and then later we cooled down with the classic beater route up the center of the face on Cret.
Tom leading up the Polka Wall.
The rock was amazing.
Me seconding.
The next day we spent some time beaching and searching for a good savage bivy. It wasn't hard to find one, really. We just had to open our eyes. We went to the epic postcard locale known as En Vau. There we found a nice sunny terrace and swam and eat 3 kilos of cheese each. Liz did a backflip. Tom made climb. Jesse napped. I relaxed.
Tom sending it.
That night, Liz and Tom climbed the epic classic on the Siren while Jesse and I bailed because we were starting the route at 6pm and it was 5 pitches (turns out we did the beater route in like an hour next day). After that, we commenced our Anglo-Deutsch-American pow-wow. It was really multilateral.
The next morning Jesse and I started up the Sirene climbing the Liautard (4c) to get Jesse back rad while Liz and Tom climbed the Super Sirene (6a+) the night before and the Pilier Gauche de la Passerelle (6a+) the next morning.
Jesse and I starting up the Sirene.
Liz and Tom about to top on the Piliar Gauche. Wow.
"This ain't half bad"
After we both reconvened for some cheese and no water, Tom and I wanted to climb the amazing-looking Piliar Droit du Couloir du Milieu (6b). I had fun leading the first pitch and enjoyed the very technical and delicate climbing of the upper pitches which Tom lead. We both agreed that we had climbed some of the best "sport" routes of our lives that day.
Me heading up the first pitch.
Me looking down from the first belay. Goddamn I like climbing in shorts and a t-shirt.
The sea cliffs off the back of the Plateau de Castleviel are stupidly amazing.
They even built a toilet.
And breathe. Okay.
