Last Friday, after over a week of playing paper tag with the rental agency, we finally managed to get keys in hand for our new apartment. Having never seen the place, I was excited and apprehensive, but there was very little that could dampen my mood at that point. The day before, when I found out that going climbing at Maseo for the weekend was looking fairly unlikely due to the lack of a 4WD vehicle that could make it down the road, I had called up a friend who recently moved out to Bucharamanga and inquired as to his plans for the upcoming 3-day weekend. He immediately responded that if I was willing to make the trip out, we would most definitely be going climbing at La Mesa (aka La Mojarra). Deal. Hence, late Friday evening I found myself packing all my belongings into a taxi and venturing over to our new abode to drop everything off before catching the overnight bus to Bucharamanga.
It was dark by the time that I got to the new place, but it was still apparent that it was a fairly nice choice. The kitchen was leaps and bounds ahead of what we've been working with, the bathrooms appeared to be brand new and a nice little balcony looked out on a few low rooftops and a large mango tree. The rooms themselves weren't much to speak of, but for the price we're paying you can't get everything. Happy that we'd finally settled on a place, I swept out my new room, deposited my suitcases in the corner and headed back to Carlos E. to help pack up the rest of the house. A few hours later I found myself saying goodbye to the space that has been home for the past 4 months, shouldering my climbing gear, and heading to the bus station.
Unlike the last time I made this trip, this time I thankfully knew exactly where I was going, roughly how much it should cost and at what times the buses depart. I also came prepared with multiple jackets and sweaters to ward off the astounding cold that blasts from the air conditioner on nearly all Colombian buses. I have yet to figure out the logic of this, but my best guess is that the blanket companies made a deal with the bus drivers some time ago and have since been reaping the benefits of exceedingly chilly passengers huddling beneath their freshly purchased armor. As I took my seat, the guy next to me looked over rather shocked and asked where my bedding was at. I confidently informed him that I was prepared this time around and showed off the fleece and warm sweater I'd brought along. He looked sincerely concerned, informed me he had a plethora of blankets and that I was welcome to one should I need it.
3 hours later, I needed that blanket. I can't really emphasize how ridiculously cold they keep these buses! I was wearing sneakers, socks, jeans, a long sleeve shirt, a fleece and had a sweater rapped around my head as a pillow/hat. I was still freezing. The guy next to me was snoring away happily under his mountain of no less than 4 heavy blankets. I didn't want to wake him and ask for a spare, but I was entirely unable to sleep due to the cold (or maybe it was the annoying spanish sitcom that had just ended, or the metalic salsa music that was now drumming insistently from the speakers above me, either way, the cold was the most uncomfortable issue). So, careful not to wake my companion, I quietly slipped a corner of the closest blanket over my legs and instantly relaxed. Now I could sleep. And for what was left of the trip, that's exactly what I did. In fact, I slept so well that the next thing I knew my friendly blanket man was shaking me awake as he departed, leaving me and a family with a few small children as the only remaining occupants of the bus. Happy to have arrived, I stuffed my sorely inadequate warm gear into my bag and hurried off to call my friend.
As I pulled out my phone, I was a little shocked to see that we had arrived 2 hrs earlier than I had expected and it was just past 6am. A little nervous to wake L so early, but anxious to get to the rocks, I gently pressed the call button and held my breath. To my relief I was greeted with a warm 'Good Morning!' and informed he'd be over to pick me up in an hour or so. I chose a spot I thought I could easily describe when the pickup time arrived and settled down to enjoy a little early morning Bill Bryson. I quickly got lost in the gloriously written tale of "A Walk in the Woods" and in what seemed like no time at all my phone was ringing and my ride had arrived.
It took about 40mins to get back to L's apt, by which time we were both starving, so we treated ourselves to some chicken pastries and fresh juice on the street corner. As the infinitely small world of climbing would have it, L informed me that the guy whose house I had stayed at in Suesca had recently re-located to Bucharamanga and would be picking us up in his 4WD in a few hours and joining us for the weekend's adventure. With a full belly and only a few hours of chilly sleep behind me, I quite happily took advantage of the lag time to stretch out on the couch and catch up on some shut eye while L organized his gear for the weekend.
By 10am I was back on the road, this time with 2 old friends plus a new acquaintance, bouncing happily along to a vibrant collection of music that ran the gammut from Uruguian rap music to airy pop classics and salsa tunes well known enough that even I could occasionally sing along. We wound through the city and off into the beautiful hills that make up the Colombian countryside. I was beside myself with happiness. After 2 very stressful weeks in the city, the wide open spaces and lush green scenery that unfolded around us was more than welcome.
I can't remember if I mentioned in my last post about La Mesa, but on the way out there is a beautiful little market that was recently constructed with a living roof and a myriad of booths selling all sorts of foods, drinks and crafts. On my last journey G had stopped off and bought me an Arepa de Chocolo, which is basically cornmeal fried and stuffed with farm-fresh cheese. To date, that was probably the best single item of food I've had since coming to Colombia. Hence, I was quite pleased when my request to duplicate that event was met with great enthusiasm. This time, in addition to the most delicious arepas in the whole wide world, my new friend C insisted that we try a few of the local homebrews that were beckoning on from the countertop. These consisted of a sweet fermented rice meal that was dangerously tasty and another thick, creamy but tangy beverage that was made out of who knows what. Luckily we only sampled 2 small glasses between the 4 of us, so there was no risk of getting particularly tipsy, but I can definitely imagine lazy afternoons starting out with an unassuming glass or two and ending in riotous fiestas.
Fueled up and on the road once more, we had just one more stop before the rocks, we needed to check in to our sleeping quarters for the weekend. To my delight we headed back to the same pretty little place I had stayed last time around, but when we arrived, there was no one there. A few phone calls later determined that the owner was out of town for a film festival and that we'd have to choose a different spot to sleep. Luckily, there's another climber's hostel just up the hill and even closer to the rocks. We turned the car around and headed over, only to find the single lane country road entirely blocked by an enormous delivery truck. After waiting for a good 10mins it became clear that we were gonna be stuck for awhile. J & C generously offered to hold tight with the car and make sleeping arrangements whenever that became a possibility if L and I wanted to hop out and hike to the wall. Did we ever! Thanking them profusely, we lightened our packs and gingerly stepped around the truck and down the road to La Mojarra.
The beauty and serenity of this valley is truly breathtaking. You enter from above, so from the very first you are greeted with expansive vistas, complete with a distant waterfall, trails leading to a sparse scattering of small farm houses, and of course the beautiful red cliffs that we had come for. I fairly bounded down the path and was thrilled when L suggested we warm up at the closest wall. Yipee! Within 20mins I was happily belaying as L strung gear up on a pretty little 5.9 face climb. When my turn came around I fairly floated up the wall. It was heaven. I hadn't been on real rock since Suesca back in April and there's really just no substitute. The valley fell away before me and the holds spread out above. The skies across the valley were ominously grey, but this particular stretch of land has a peculiar ability to avoid bad weather and the sun occasionally came out to play with us as we meandered up and down a series of 5.9 and 5.10 climbs, wrapping up with a challenging 10c named Dharma. As we were coming down from that, our friends finally made it into the valley and invited us to meet them out at a cliff a little further along. It was already getting late by the time we caught up with J & C, but there was still a line of people having goes at Gullich, a pumpy 11a that traverses under a steep overhang. This was one of L's favorites and was keen to give it another go, but with the cue of people ahead of us, L was kind enough to let me hop on another 10a called Matrix while he waited his turn. While we cleaned that route I was surprised to discover that the shadows had lengthened and it was quickly getting dark. Apparently that didn't phase many of the climbers out that particular day as they were still hanging around working on this pretty roof. By the time they handed the rope over to L so he could take down the draws, headlamps were out and C has happily cranking away the battery-less lamp he had designated as the climber's spotlight. We all looked on as L made his way up and then climbed back down removing clips as he came. Not generally the suggested method of cleaning, but in this particular case significantly less of a pain than attempting to rappel and manuever your way horizontally back under the overhang.
Happy with the days endeavors we soon packed up and hiked back out through a dazzling starlit night. When we got up to the hostel, I could already tell that this place must be stunning, but it wasn't until the following morning that I found out just how magnificent of a location the owner managed to select. In the meantime, our tummies were rumbling and it was time to commence what will hopefully be a long tour of Bucharamanga's delicious gastronomical fare. For this night's selection, we drove down into the small town of Los Santos and camped out in the town square where there were a series of food carts serving up mounds of mouthwatering deliciousness. We opted for arepas filled to bursting with chicken, various sauces and, well I was too hungry to notice what else, but let me tell you, it was TASTY! We followed that with french fries and chorizo which came with any sauce you could imagine including a tangy pineapple goo that was most definitely my favorite. As we chowed down C informed me that Bucharamanga has some of the best food in the country and that there are so many things I need to try that I would just have to come spend a whole week there so we could make our way through the menus. Yessir! After this small sampling, I will most definitely put that trip on the agenda.
By the time we got back to the hostel, it was clearly time to crash. However, having spent a night on a bus and a day on the rocks without stopping for a shower, I somehow managed to work up the bravery to dowse myself with a cold trickle of water while staring happily up through the open air skylight at the star filled night.
The following morning I woke up and headed to the bathroom only find myself staring gawk-eyed at the full breadth of the valley below with nothing but a narrow pathway separating the showers from a steep tumble of stones sloping off to the valley floor.
After such a full day before, we were all moving a little slowly, and the sun was blasting down hard, so we opted for a lazy morning complete with hot breakfast and hammock time.
When we finally made it down the road, the sun was still broiling on the path, but the rocks were thankfully shaded. This time we skipped the warm up wall and hiked out past where we'd greeted the stars the night before. A little stiff but more than happy to be out on the rocks again, I opted for some top roping since there were several routes already up and slowly made my way through to an 11c that started on a massive overhang and basically required a pull up followed by a hand-foot traverse to get off the ground. In the meantime, J & C were busy improving routes by adding bolts and replacing anchors. I was thrilled to see such diligence and happy to lend a hand passing up drills and hanging chains. In between we lunched on sausages, cheese and bread while gazing out at the valley beyond. So passed another happy day in La Mojarra.
As we made our way back out we passed by a big group working on Gullich again, and J decided he'd better put a second bolt at the anchor, which currently had just one. L spied a couple friends who had put some trad gear up on a hard 11 next door and asked if I'd be willing to provide a belay. Just as L started up the wall, I immediately wished I'd opted out of belaying in favor of picture taking. As I looked over my shoulder, there was J jumaring his way up a rope dangling at the edge of a cave full of climbers as the light slowly shifted to that beautifully rich yellow of pre-dusk. To top it all off, across the valley emerged a rainbow, gaining strength and arcing up to meet J as he made his way to the anchors. It was truly a sight to behold. Every once in awhile in my life I've had the luxury of experiencing those perfect moments where impossible events align and the true beauty of the world seems to solidify for an instant. This was just such a moment. I didn't manage to snag a picture to share with you all, but I sincerely hope that image never leaves my mind. It was an absolutely delightful moment to end a gratifying day.
That evening was filled with beers, local empanadas, tortillas, good company and crazy coincidences. As we sat beneath the bare bulbs of the corner store with a crowd of other climbers, I overheard a young guy mention he'd soon be on his way to Philadelphia. Really? My ears perked up and I asked what would bring him to that end of the world. As the logic of the world would have it, this young man will soon be starting school at the very university, in the very program of which my uncle in the chair. Not only that, but he's able to attend due to a scholarship to play squash, which happens to also be my uncle's preferred sport. I couldn't help but marvel at the crazy little world we live in as I swatted mosquitos drawn by the only light for miles around in this rustic rural village of Colombia.
The following morning, I awoke to my 3rd and final day full of energy and rearing to go. The second the sun slipped from the cliffs we were on our way out and this time I had some objectives in mind. First on the list was to lead an easy but super pretty 10 that I'd toproped the day before. Once the blood was pumping, I was determined to try my hand at leading Rebel Music, a gorgeously technical 11a that had peaked my interest while giving it a go on toprope. That first 10 went off without a hitch and I came down exhilarated and itching for the 11. Unfortunately, a few other people had had the same thought and were already half way up the route I was dying to try. Not to worry, this particular valley has plenty to offer. In fact, we'd kinda been eyeing a nice long route that had a set of anchors at the top of a 5.8 but extended beyond as an 11b. L took the first lead on this one, but the minute I saw his face when he came down I knew I'd have to give it a go. I hadn't been able to see the last portion of the route from where I was belaying, but L assured me I was gonna love it. I was feeling great anyway, so we pulled the rope and up I went.
The lower section was a delight of mirco bulges on a sheer face that required tight balance, but very little effort. This was followed by a small roof and a nice airy arete with a platform big enough to sleep on above. Only, to start off again from that cozy perch required either a super crimpy, balancey traverse, or a he-man lunge and heal hook mantle up to the next bolt. Feeling strong, but not quite he-man-ish, I opted for the crimpy variation and slowly eased my way up through the first set of bolts. The next rest was a thin ledge with a smooth face looming straight up another 10 ft or so to a dusty ledge and the final anchors. The only way up was to trust a small sidepull and a miniscule crimp, get your feet onto a super thin, high, sloping hold and lunge as far as you could go up to a solid jug. It took me a good number of tries, but that little rest ledge allowed for backing off fairly easily, so when I finally hauled up far enough to get the jug and finished with an ugly mantle, I had done so without ever weighting the rope. Yahoooo!
By the time we got back over to Rebel Music, C was giving it a rather unconvincing go, and soon came down disgruntled. I happily stepped up and tried to show him how it was done. Unfortunately, I'd used up most of my strength on the last route and ended up falling just short of the anchors. I worked the moves anyway, but was frustrated not to get the whole route in one go. After a bit of rest I gave it another try, but to no avail. If I want to get that one down clean, I'm just gonna have to go back for it another day.
Already searching the calendar for my next 3 day weekend....
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