Hey you there! Sit down, button up, and prepare yourself for a tale of drunken debauchery, cultural bastardization, and general bouldering badassery. What follows is the tale of CUMC’s Fountainebleau Expedition of 2017.
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Day 1: It all started at 5:30AM on a cold morning at The Farm in East Sussex, made even more frigid by Max’s passenger side car window not rolling up. After a brisk car ride in the dawn light, spent shivering under a heavy blanket, we met with the CUMC crew at a service station on the M25. Max and I shared a brief goodbye as I ran into the welcoming arms of my Special Bus crew, and we were off to France!
By 10AM we were on the ferry, with eager members happily undertaking the Port-2-Port challenge, wherein you have to drink a bottle of port between the Dover and Calais ports. Rosy cheeked and with wobbly sea-legs, our crew sat around a crowded table while watching the sea roll by outside.
Eventually, the ferry ride is over and we embark to the next challenge: driving on the correct side of the road! “Right side, right side, right side…” was repeated many times as Rosa steered Tauska (sp?), our trusty VW van, down the rolling France Farmland. As our crew navigated it’s way to central France, “TRA’ER” was shouted many a time by mainly George, as the landscape whirred by. Once you seen some of central France, you’ve seen it all, but that is not to say it is not beautiful. Much like the valley’s of Oregon or England, it is a vast flat landscape highlighted by occasional soft rolling hills. Crops of bright gold and green are contrasted by tree growth along shambling irrigation canals. Wind mills paint the background, contrasting the ancient simplistic stone houses with their modern metal sheen, demonstrating the mix of old and new.
After several hours the farmland begins to change into forest, a sure sign that we are nearly there! The forest looks new, small trees overcrowded in a mixture of pine and deciduous covering a ground of nettles and grass. We turn off the main road and into a stunning French village, old pastel stonework houses and an incredible church overlooking a stone bridge over the river. Rolling into the campground we are greeted with a majority of the other CUMC crew. Our site is a grassy horseshoe shaped grassy area lined by tall trees, with parking for our four buses in the center. The outer two sides are filled with bright monsters of tents, with the central area home to our wheel-barrow fire pits. It’s a lovely site, not at all “roughing it”, but rather filled with comfort and camaraderie.
As much as I wanted to enjoy being in France, surrounded by friends and forest, I felt a deep longing in my heart. I just couldn’t get into socializing around the fire, or watching the sunset. My heart longed more than anything to be in the forests of home, familiar forests where it can name all the flora and fauna, all the shapes of the mountains. Instead, I was in a strange land with strange sights, smells, and feel. Instead of forcing social interaction, I relaxed alone on a bouldering mat behind the vans and watched the stars, for they are the same constellations I’d see back home. I felt the cold air chill my cheeks as tears dripped down them, and didn’t fight the homesickness, instead let it roll over me in waves. Emotionally and physically tired, I retired to my tent around 10PM and drifted swiftly into the throws of sleep.
The 4 euro raclette of pure happiness
Day 2: The first day of climbing was a great introduction to the Fountianebleau boulders at Roche aux Sabots (Trois Pignons). The rock has a very similar texture to the Gritstone of the Peaks, but has much sharper edges and the capability to be veeery polished. It was a sunny day of adaption, learning to trust my feet on the grippy rock and advance my balance-y climbing technique. As well as this, I worked on my comfort levels taking ricks such as dyno-ing, “falling” towards holds to catch them, and weight shifting onto fingernail sized ledges.
The climbing area itself was superb, soft white sand with scattered boulders and tall trees everywhere. Hammocks zagged through the landscape like spider webs of pure comfort, with laughter and power-screams cutting through the bird song.
After adapting to the rock, I started to push myself a bit more in both grade and climbing technique. Climbing diagonal cracks, steep over-hangs, sheer slabs, sometimes even jumping on the barefoot train started by Kieren, Leon, and Conor!
Around 6:20PM I was relaxing in my hammock in the campsite near the slackline and cooking area, watching Eben fall off the slackline and Sophie chop vegetables.
That night there were TWO assassination attempts by the group to poison me! First was my own bus, who added lentils to the curry, so (bless their heart) I was switched to a bus that was making fajitas…. with a pre-made, soy mixture. So, starving and grumpy I nursed my first bottle of great French wine as I waited many hours for the third bus I was pushed to made their pasta sauce. Drunk and warm by the fire, we began the first game of werewolf until 2AM, and then sleep followed…
A small snippit of the first crag
First crag hammock love
Day 3: 7:00 AM start and there was much soreness. We rolled out to a different crag, this one much more forested than the last. The routes were equally fun and nail, with me spending an hour or so on a gnarly blue traverse problem. It started out walking along a ledge before spreading around a wide, polished corner on non-existent feet and hands, before testing the full-extent of your arm/leg span moving crimp to crimp. Once you’ve managed to tear your groin muscles and strain your toes over the 8m traverse, it’s time to ascend! That is, basically do a dyno off micro-ledges onto sharp crimps, put your foot to your ear, weight shifting and standing in a power move to the best jug of my life.
That night was my first on fire duty (#MeghanForWoodSec) and I rocked it in a tank-top and rolled up pant legs, sweating and wincing under the intense heat of the four large fires. That night was filled with massages and cuddles with Rio, Conor, and Katie, so good times! Sober and tired, I retired relatively early after plowing through most of the wood stocks, ready for the Saturday rest day.
Doing a fun mantle problem
Day 4: A Saturday Rest day in Fountainebleau (the town)
It was a slow morning, snuggled warmly in my sleeping bag listening to the serene pitter patter of rain on the outer layer. Eventually we stirred, and Lottie, Camilla, Barney, Ellen, Chantelle, and I went out to explore the local castle-town of Fountainebleau. It is a beautiful town, from the rolling cobblestones to the oxidized copper decals adorning the ancient buildings. That day there happened to be a Napolean Coronation recreation, so the whole castle was filled with a few hundred reenacters, dressed in military garb. We wandered about the tents, and enjoyed the drum-lead marching processional very similar to that of an SCA event, before retiring back to our camp.
Such military, so march, wow
Admiring the tasty crawfish soup
Day 5: EASTER SUNDAY!
That day was spent bouldering at the Elephant, so named for the trademark boulder that may look somewhat like the animal if you were tripping balls. It was also Tighter Brighter Lighter day, wherein all members must wear their tightest, lightest, and brightest clothing! Instead of jumping straight onto the hard problems, I lazed in my hammock for a while before beginning a several hour game of ‘the ground is lava!’ with Conor. We happily jumped, jogged, and wiggled our way through the beautiful cracks and blocs of Elephant. After lapping it, and with the sun high, we retired for lunch. Having scoured Carrefour, I found a pre-made Aligot and proceeded to heat it up in my camp stove and devour it, getting happy reminders of my visit to Annecy a few months prior. It was a lovely lunch, amidst laughter and banter of my CUMC friends.
After lunch I went and climbed Fresher’s Slab, easy enough when you trust your feet. It took a while for the crew to do it, so I wandered off and tried some problems far above my level and chilled in an incredible crevice labyrinth!
An that night was the highlight of the entire trip; the cocktail party.
It was nearing dark when Will, Kieren, Sian and I walked out to the cocktail party location. Walking along the river, cutting across the green sports fields to a dirt lane. This road was lined with tall trees, creating a green ceiling of birdsong scattered light as we turned onto an even smaller road. This led to dense cover, to a wide open field of green waist-high grass. Crossing the field, and just on the forest’s edge was a monstrous pile of fire wood and a van. Using an old pizza box, and with Jack Daniel’s Fire in hand, I started what would be a 3m tall bonfire. As darkness descended, so did the drunken party-goers.
Now, and I hate to say this, you had to be there to understand how truly incredible this party was. The atmosphere was one of pure joy and freedom. The light system shining out of the back of the van created a 3-dimensional pattern of blue and green as it shone on the tree leaves, making it seem you were floating in space. The amber sparks from the fire cut upwards through the display of blue and green, spiraling upwards in an almost spiritual display. Far above, clear black skies fought for the attention of the brilliant stars as all of these combined into one magnificent spectacle of light and awe.
Backing all of this was thumping music through enormous speakers, the sound of laughter, and the crackle of a roaring fire.
As Fire Lord Meghan, it was my main job to keep the flame ablaze. In doing so I was rewarded with endless drinks, and it being a cocktail party meant that my cup was never empty of hard alcohol. I must have drank at least 15 different types of booze (George’s mix accounting for 6 of those in one go…), as eager fire-lovers made sure that I was well ‘hydrated’ since my job required so much energy. It was an absolutely spectacular night, continuing until Conor and I walked back to camp to the songs of the awakening birds.
Rio crushing fresher’s slab with a small audience
Me ‘sending Cheese Grater
A view of the crag area we play ‘ground is lava’ in
Day 5: Much hangover, so cafe, wow
hehe, penis
sunsunsunsunsunsunsunsunsun
An ominous shot of the clouds
The most adorable of cafe puppers
Day 6: Stubby Challenge, a slightly rainy day that turned around later. Crushed some harder problems and pushed my grade up to a 5A, so I’m happy with that! Didn’t feel too well, and could tell I was getting ill.
Day 7: Iiiillllllllll. I woke from a sleepless night to completely blocked and throbbing sinuses, a deep chest cough, and absolutely no energy. Even so, it was the last day of climbing in Font, so the show must go on, right?
It was the most beautiful place we’d climbed yet, a wide open field of sand making me feel like it was a tropical paradise. I climbed a bit, but was extremely weak form being ill. After flashing a crack problem with some hand-jamming advice from George, I was content with napping a bit on Sam Willis’s chest, then using Will’s down jacket and napping further in my hammock. It was a lazy day, with many other’s not fully committed to the whole ‘climbing’ thing, either by choice or by painful tendons. Rosa and I wrestled, ninja and bull-dog was played, and a chaotic group photo was had. Even though I was ill, it was an absolutely incredible way to end the trip, and I was ready to head home.
Group picture, I’m middle lower, in a wind-pipe collapsing choke
Day 8: The long road home
Not much to report. We all were tired, we all were grumpy about people not cleaning their shit, and most ready to be home.
Really, the only eventful thing was Will blasting by the armed guards that were searching the vans after the Paris terrorist attack. Silly boy.
After a long trip filled with much napping, we rolled back into Cardiff early evening. I proceeded to tackle hug Max as soon as possible, and go to bed at a very reasonable hour.
And with that, good times were had.