Sump To Summit

We were excited to kick off the climbing season with a trip to Spain before Cate and Andy’s wedding! Our base was a quirky little hobbit house—three stories high, with just one room per floor. It was so tiny, I could almost touch all four walls at once. The “bathroom” was basically a cupboard under the stairs on the ground floor. Brilliant!

The town itself wasn’t exactly lively, but the rock looked fantastic. This was Spain in May—beautiful weather, multi-pitch routes, and beers afterward. What could possibly go wrong?

Our first climb started with an hour’s drive to an impressive wall. It looked like it had the potential to be a great day out. We found the base of the climb, and El led the first pitch. I followed with the second pitch… which was, honestly, awful. I suspect I went off route. I set up a belay for El, and just as she started climbing, the heavens opened.

By the time El joined me at the belay, the rain was relentless. We rigged the ropes for an abseil—water was gushing off the rock straight onto my crotch! Two abseils later, we were back on the ground, soaked to the bone.

As we made the soggy walk back to the car, the rain actually stopped, and the sun came out. But the rock, covered in moss, wasn’t drying anytime soon. No point waiting around—it’d probably stay slimy for days.

Climbing in Spain—fail one!