I’m at my mother’s house in Northern Transylania – I haven’t been home since Christmas and now, barely arrived from the train station, I’m getting my skis ready. I’m leaving in ’15… When I returned home from Asia, a year ago, I promised longer times at home – a promised I fell short off…
In the evening, on the way back, the phone rings. Tomorrow it’s ice climbing – my partner tells me not to worry about a thing: ‘Just bring your axes and crampons. I’ll bring the rest. We are leaving at 7:30am. I’ll call you at 7:00.’ I’m dropping my skis off and I eat dinner. I’m actually talking with mom… true, about my skiing day, but I’m sharing…. I forget to ask though… Phone rings again. I’m off to the pub for a quick drink. 8 jack & coke and several hours later I’m back home. It’s 4am and I don’t fancy counting how much time I still have for bed. I crash.
I’m up at 8am. Why no one called? I pick up he phone: ‘Sorry – I fell asleep’ comes the answer. ‘Anyway, it snowed all day and traffic is a nightmare.’ Plans are changing. We go climbing. I re-pack in haste and I pick up the skis as well – there is a couloir I hope I’ll have the time to ski if all goes well. Couple of hours later (apparent unplanned delays..) and we’re off to ‘Rooster’s comb’ one of my favourite places o earth – my first climb, my first epic, my first sow in july, my first outdoor date…
On the walk in the day is beautiful – a bit on the warm side with blue clear sky. In places snow is a pain and we’re not moving too fast. The plans are taking shape: climb ‘the four dihedral’s’ route (5A, VII+ UIAA).
The rocky outcrop looks amazing in the distance. I feel like I need a different experience; a more intimate one. I don’t feel like freezing at belays so I let my guys know that they should climb as a team of two while I’ll have a go at the Western ridge (direct start, 3B, VI UIAA). A few camera snaps and they’re off, around the corner – I’m looking up trying to figure out the line.
The start is quite physical – I could have cheated on a gully around the right side but that would defeat the purpose. It’s sunny but the cold is quite crisp. Few meters up I figure out that there are some flakes I have no idea how to hook. Then I figure out that the ice-clippers I normally have on the belt of my backpack are well and safe at home – the spring leashes are with Justin, two counties down south… I’m showing my axes behind the rucksack belt. I feel like a two-sworded Cossack; when lay-backing on the flakes, however I feel like a Cossack in pain with the adze scratching my ribs.
First flat platform and I’m having screaming-barfies. I’m growing soft – seems like I’ve lost the exercise of climbing gloveless. I forego the barfing but I do a bit of screaming and as soon as I can shove my hands back in the gloves and extract the adze from between my ribs I’m off again. Next bit is a silly water-ice curtain. One swing and the whole thing cracks. I trust only one foot and one hook on it while am clinging gloveless on the wall left of it. Dismissed in a few moves and I’m on a platform. Suddenly the wind picks up and it starts snowing. One chocolate bar, a short phone-filmed panorama and I’m off again. Nice face climb moves on a vertical wall take me to a sound ridge. I lay flat few times hoping not to join Dorothy on her flight from Kansas to Oz. During some respites in the blowing and howling am reaching the top. I pull on my parka, I cut a small platform lower down the ridge and I am bracing myself for the wait for my mates. I crank on the iPod shuffle and I begin ‘dancing‘ with my upper body on Red-Hot Chilly Peppers.
One hour later the phone rings: one ice axe dropped and snail-like pace beforehand means my friends will have to abseil so I have to make my own way down. Back up on the ridge, some scrambling down a gully, a traverse and later some down-hill running across an avalanche slope puts me back to my backpack and skis. Water, chocolate and more waiting before we begin our way back. Darkness is on. Forgotten head-torches (all three of us) makes downhill skiing in the backcountry a very interesting proposal. Not soon enough and plenty of bruises later we’re back at the car. Time for a pub soon… Tomorrow it’s skiing again then the 12 hour train ride back to Bucharest.
6 February 2010
‘What the hell!?’ It’s five to five in the morning and the train leaves at five thirty – there is no way in the world I can make it. I’m checking the train-times: next is at seven thirty. How could I sleep through my alarm? Maybe going to bed at 2am didn’t help but the nice dinner and small home party the night before made it, at the time, feel well worth it.
I’m checking my backpack again – I don’t want any surprises like the Saturday before. A thought crosses my mind: maybe I should throw in a rope this time – for abseils in case I need to… I chuck in a 50m 8 mil and and ATC guide. The bag feels heavier and I frown. Instinct tells me to stop moaning and have a tea.
The train crawls – two hours plus one hour delay and I arrive in Busteni. I leave my trainers, spare t-shirt and Steve House’s book, freshly arrive in the mail on Thursday at the Romanian Alpine Club’s guest house and I hit the trail. It is late, I am late and the route I’m trying I have been told is a day’s enterprise. It doesn’t look good so I’m speeding up through the snow. One hour later I am at Costila hut. Couple of chocolate bars, some water and a chat with friends already there and now it’s really really late… 1pm already …
I ask about the route – pointing to some imaginary lines helps but just a bit. I’m planning on climbing Costila-Galbenele Ridge (3A, VI+ UIAA) but have only a vague idea of where it goes. I leave the hut and I sprint up on the frozen snow, up on some rocks and through bushes following some tracks. I’m now in front of a long slab (I remember Justin mentioning it). Tracks go left but I decide to do it right and I hop on the slab. I do hate conglomerate and it does not love me much either. I clean loads of snow and I wonder how to place my crampons on rounded pebbles. I’m climbing the thing but not a happy bunny at all. Near the top some traversing to the left and I am in front of a section I’d have no problems climbing in summer but now, with crampons and all, it just locks me out. I down climb and rest. I just cannot bring myself to make some moves on pebbles while arching my back outwards to traverse below an overhang. Indecision costs me precious time – 15 minutes later I’m doing the moves and I hate myself for doing them with doubt in mind.
Back on a snow slope and I look down – two guys are rigging an abseil on the slope at the right of the slab I just climbed. The wind is quite strong and snow clouds are moving in. I scream at them asking for directions. They point in the direction of the route but I cannot fully understand the answers I’m getting. In the end I wave and try to set off. ‘We were trying the route too but the weather has turned bad. We’re going down. You’re sure you want to carry on?’ I nod, wave and sprint up the frozen snow. I’ve climbed through worst weather – that’s not my worry. I worry it’s too late and I worry I’m wasting too much time figuring out my way.
At the wall I believe I see a peg somewhere up so I set off. Up there I start thinking I am most likely to be off route and the pegs I have now on my right are probably abseil pegs. I am below an overhanging crack and I see no more pegs. Justin said here should be plenty…. Anyway, it looks like it takes me to the ridge and after-all with all this snow who the hell can figure it out?
My stomach is killing me – must have been the wine from last night. Or the Jack? Regardless I feel sick and the pain annoys me. I put my axes around my neck and I muscle through the crack. The wind picks up even more and the spindrift is awful. At the first rest I’m putting on my ski-googles. The route does not seem to through where I am so I am traversing right. I’m feeling the climbing more serious than I expected. I am trying to block the negative thoughts about the pebbles i’m hooking and my uneasy stomach.
Soon i’m on some frozen turf and I take a rest and a photo. I’m running up on it and I stumble upon the route – pegs and bolts and all on a ledge. The wind and the spindrift are too strong though. I hunker down in a hollow in the rock and I’m breathing under the collar of my jacket. Parka is on soon and I’m still waiting. I try some moves but the wind pushes too much and I retreat under my rock. ‘Within temptation’ playing in my shuffle competes with the wind and I’m waisting more time….
Twenty minutes later I have only the snow blowing into my face to worry about. The wind has let off and I’m taking advantage. The passage is not easy though clear to follow. I climb too deliberately. Suddenly a gust of wind hits me midway up the section. Adrenaline kicks in and I realise I have to act fast. I have a 5 mil bit of cord in my pocket – about half a meter. I stretch towards a peg and I thread it through. I knot the thing and slip my hand through the loop just in time. The wind is back on schedule again. I feel a bit like a flag for the next ten minutes. My axe is well jammed, or so I like to believe, but I’m not sure about my front-points perched on rounded pebbles. One more break in the wind and I throw in the last moves I have up to the ridge. Some more running on the last few meters and I’m in front of a new headwall.
Now where? Suddenly my phone alarm rings – it’s 4:30 pm. Suddenly the mystery of my alarm not waking me up is solved… I’m feeling frustrated at my own stupidity.
I fish out the phone from the lid of my backpack and I call Justin who is at a bouldering comp. ‘It’s 4:30 and this is where I am. Which way should I go? Left? Right?’ The answer is unequivocal: ‘Down mate! You still have ways to go, the hard bits are ahead and you only got half an hour of light’
Damn! Two sips of water and the rope comes out. I find the abseil anchor and I thank my instinct for nagging me to take the rope with me. First abseil it’s over. Fog is on, snow is on. I tie one end of the rope to my harness and i start down-climbing – I don’t want to waste time pulling it. Suddenly it’s getting a bit sketchy. I find a dried out remnant of a tiny pine-tree somewhere on the right and I rig an abseil around it. Then down-climb and bushwhack in the dark till the hut – empty now. I chuck all the gear in my backpack and I start skiing on my boots downhill, back to Busteni.
I am calling Justin to tell him I’m off the route and on my way down. ‘We were worried for you! Good you’re safe! Justin is not here right now – he’s having X-Rays! We’re at the hospital. He landed between mattresses and broke his shin!’ Go figure – indoor bouldering…
Half an hour later I begin hearing the music and the commentators near the ski slope – it’s the finals in the International Ice Climbing World Cup. I’m heading down there just in time to see a tiny Korean winning the finals. Pretty impressive. Quite a few friends around and festive atmosphere breaks the magic of solitude.
I don’t feel like hopping on the night train just then so I let myself convinced to join the party – some hot food and a few glasses of wine to take my mind off the one that didn’t go up….
In October 2009 I tried climbing the Cassin Route with Paul Popescu (18) of Cluj. We got horribly rained on on the approach evening and on the climb day totally soaked throughout the day and all night long (in the wettest bivy I have ever been). The following day with even worst weather coming in we called it quits and abseiled off from 1/3 up the wall. On the walk out we had stunning weather only to see that from 3:30/4 pm the storm set in. Our friends were caught up at Aig. du Midi station for 36 hours, unable to descend due to storm. Paul remained in Cham and I returned to Bucharest, back in time for work This was Paul’s first alpine outing and am sure not the last…
Riccardo Cassin passed away last night at his home in Resinelli at the foot of his beloved Grigna mountain. Cassin was one of the world’s all time absolute mountaineering legends. He had celebrated his 100th birthday on 2 January.
It’s going to be hard to get used to the idea that Riccardo Cassin is no longer with us. It’s difficult already, now. Not only because Riccardo had lived his 100 years intensely. And not only because he is an absolute mountaineering legend. But because that man, sculpted in rock and made for the mountains, that “Rock man” as Fosco Maraini defined him, was a reference for all. Riccardo Cassin represented the essence of alpinism, of man who sets himself objectives and reaches them. And Ricardo managed to do the same in his private life too, not just in the mountains. The mountains which he loved to define as “my girlfriend.”
Cassin represented the prototype of an alpinist and man who never stopped, who knew how to look forward. Riccardo knew how to beyond obstacles. He had intuition and, above all, he knew the best way to overcome the obstacles. He was stubborn. Obstinate even. Difficult, if you want. He was the leader who wanted to climb first, always and regardless of everything else. He was the head of a patriarchal family. But also a man who, in the mountains just like in life itself, knew how to make decisions and assume full responsibility.
Cassin was the man who chose to fight for the partisans because “the Germans had occupied our land and our house. What else could I do, other than send them away?” He was the mountaineer who remembered with pride that he had never lost a climbing companion and this goes to show the importance of all those men were who roped up with him. It is not due to chance therefore that he described his climbing partners as “all great alpinists”. And he was the sun, husband, father and grandfather who wanted to be an example for all. Perhaps this is why he was loved and respected by all. So much so that he was adopted as a brother, father and grandfather by climbers of all ages. So much so that for everyone he was simply Riccardo.
It’s difficult to think about a “legend”, or simply about a mountaineer, who is not connected to his achievements. Or about someone who does not show disinterest in what happens afterwards. In this too, Cassin was special. He was open to the future and like all great men he was always curious. It is for this reason perhaps that he never stopped, that he looked to the future, to youngsters, with great interest. It is for this reason that often he was on the side of the new generations instead of the mountaineering establishment. Perhaps all this is due to the fact that he, born in San Vito al Tagliamento in Friuli on 02 January 1909 and emigrated to Lecco as a young man in search of work and fortune, had this desire to renew himself in his DNA. The desire to give credit to the hopes of those who need to build their future using their own resources only. So much so that, starting out as a blacksmith’s apprentice in Lecco he soon became factory head, then company director. All this happened while he studied at evening classes and, on Sunday’s he began to climb at the Grignetta, before widening his range of action first to the Dolomites, then Mont Blanc and then mountains in the rest of the world.
It is difficult to remember the thousands of stories of his mountaineering life. Just like it is difficult to remember his more than 2500 ascents, and more than 100 first ascents. It is difficult to explain what he represented for Lecco and for alpinism, but also for the Ragni di Lecco group of which he is certainly one of the key symbols. What is certain is that what remain are beautiful routes and achievements which left their mark in the history of alpinism and, above all, fuelled the dreams of a myriad of mountaineers. Such as, to name but a handful, the first ascent of the beautiful arête up the Torre Trieste in the Dolomites, carried out in 1935 together with Vittorio Ratti. And that same year with Ratti, Cassin amazed the world by overcoming the incredible overhangs up the North Face of Cima Ovest di Lavaredo. Then there is the 1937 first ascent up the legendary NE Face of Piz Bernina, together with Rarri and Gino Esposito. And the mythical first ascent of the Walker Spur on the Grandes Jorasses in 1938, together with Esposito and Ugo Tizzoni.
Then came the expeditions. First of all the missed expedition to K2 for which Cassin, after having taken part in a reccie and the preparations, was unjustly excluded. “I cannot forget…” said Cassin, remembering that episode. Even if perhaps it was precisely this great delusion which provided him with the means of proving his valour as an expedition leader, first with the ascent of K2’s magnificent neighbour, Gasherbrum IV (7925m) which was summited by Bonatti and Mauri in 1958. Then with the great first ascent of the South Face of Mount McKinly in Alaska, during which all 6 Ragni di Lecco expedition members summited, including Cassin himself. On that occasion Cassin was congratulated via telegram by the President of the United States of America, John Kennedy. As if to say that these were things of times past, of when alpinism was still a dream and adventure.
Now that Riccardo is no longer here all of this remains. His history, his routes and his achievements will continue to make people dream. Etched forever, just like the memory of a man who never deprived himself of life itself or of the mountains. A man who never spoke too much and, when he did, always spoke clearly: all you needed to do was look him in the eyes to understand. What counted were the facts, for Cassin. But what also counted was the kindness and that quick-witted smile which made his eyes shine when he was happy. This is how I am, they seemed to say. This is how Riccado Cassin always was and always will be. A man and a legend who all alpinists called Riccardo, and who will be sorely missed.
Riccardo Cassin was a member of the Ragni della Grignetta group and honorary member of the International Academic Alpine Club, the Groupe Haute Montagne and the mountaineering clubs of Italy, the USA, Spain, Switzerland and France. He leaves behind 3 children, 7 grandchildren and 4 great-grandchildren.
Simbata 1 august si duminica 2 august am incercat parcurgerea solitar a traseului lui Titus Gontea, Ultimatum. Un proiect ambitios, tinind cont ca din ce stiu este prima tentativa de repetare a traseului, s-a dovedit a fi mai mult decit pot eu sa fac in acest moment si am abandonat dupa parcurgerea unei lungimi si jumatate.
Pentru mine traseul a fost cam mult – solitar, la vedere si pe o roca pe care nu am rulaj aproape deloc insa o experienta placuta.
Fara ajutorul lui Justin si Vasile nu as fi reusit sa ajung la perete si le multumesc inca o data. La fel si lui Titus pentru beta si imi doresc sa aud cit de curind ca o echipa sau un temerar au reusit parcurgerea integrala, dintr-o singura intrare a unui traseu care este, inexplicabil si injust evitat.
Stagiu pe tema Big Wall – premiere si reamenajari in teren de aventura. Perioada: 13-19 iulie Locatia: Cheile Turzii/Cheile Aiudului Se adreseaza tuturor celor care sunt interesati de tehnicile de premiere in big wall si de tehnicile si etica de reamenajari in teren de aventura.
Instructori/Coordonatori: Leslie Fucsko, Antoine Rabatel, Cosmin Andron si Justin Ionescu.
Vor fi prezentate echipamente utilizate si moduri de utilizare ale acestora, Ultimile tehnici in domeniu Modalitati de progresie Dificultati si cotatii Etica big wall si etica in teren de aventura Realizari la nivel mondial in big wall Pregatire si logistica specifice Importanta stilului si viitorul peretilor uriasi …
Specificitatile de stil si de teren de aventura din Romania.
Cazarea se va face la cort.
Necesarul de echipament/ participant: o sa fie alcatuite mai multe echipe autonome, deci este nevoie de tot materialul disponibil/participant pt escalada la liber si artificial. Material de protectie mobila, pitoane, ciocan, scarite, coarda, etc. Casca obligatoriu !
Conditii de participare: experienta in trasee de lungimi (minim gradul 5A) si in trasee cu protectie mobila. Cunostinte temeinice de construire a unei regrupari si parcurgerea unui traseu echipat atit la liber cit si artifical.
Taxa participare : 450 lei
Inscrieri pana la data de 07 iulie 2009, se ahita un avans de 200 lei.
Sad but true. We all know money talks and hypocrisy rules, yet it is still quite hard to digest. Of course ‘explanations’ and ‘justifications’ are plenty – we excel at them. We are actually the only species that uses ‘justifications’ and I am too tired and sick of it to argue against the ‘reasonable’ explanations. I’m just sad and disappointed; yet, it doesn’t really matter in the greater scheme of things. Paying clients do, though….
Another sorry attempt to ski brought me to another beautiful trip to the mountains. This time i went with my friends from Cluj, Adrian and Oana, to Fagaras Mountains (Balea Lake area). In the previous week Adi tempted me with some pictures of some alpine walls there while, I dare to suspect, his (not-so) secret plan was to actually get me on skis…
Photo (c) Adrian Valean
Photo (c) Adrian Valean
Heavy snow obvious on the ascent to Balea lake made two things clear: not so great being on walls and great powder for skiing. Upon arrival at the mountain rescue hut we had a quick lunch and we set off skiing – me on borrowed Silvrettas and in my climbing boots. Not such a great idea. Uphill was sweet, especially since the snowboarders were battling hip deep powder snow. Downhill in the adjacent valley was not so great…. I am no good skier by any means but decent enough to hold my own on moderate off-piste. On these skis, however and in climbing boots it was a whole different ball game… At times it looked like i was the ball…. The snowball. Nevertheless the trip was a good opportunity to eye some walls and mentally trace some routes on a a couple of them.
Photo (c) Adrian Valean
Photo (c) Adrian Valean
Photo (c) Adrian Valean
With an hour or so of light left i decided to let Adi and Oana do what they were best at and me to head back to the hut, set my bones straight, have a cup of soup and have a go at a potential line I saw on a spire behind the hut in order to get introduced to the area and its climbing type as a preview for the following day.
Photo (c) Adrian Valean
Photo (c) Adrian Valean
The last rays of sun caught me dropping my skis at the base of the spire facing up a very narrow couloir ending on a sharp, snow capped summit. I turned on my BD Zenyx headlamp and my iPod Shuffle, shouldered the pack with a Powergel and an Arc’teryx Dually Belay Parka in it, grabbed onto my BD Cobras and set off. First few meters were quite pleasurable on hard, icy snow. I moved then onto rock and with night all around me and Metallica’s Unforgiven II in my headphones it all felt perfect.
Of quite some difficulty proved to be, in the lower section, a small ramp with unconsolidated powder-snow on which I had no purchase upon an exit from a slightly overhanging section of the couloir. I down-climbed a couple of meters and traversed some delicate moves on rock to a big flake on the right then, back to the left and i continued upwards on an overhanging, narrowing, dihedral to a more straightforward section. Fairly close to the summit i came under a small roof that made me wonder if all this was indeed such a great idea after all… In the valley below i saw a small light and heard some hollering. It was Adi breaking trail and coming to meet me in the col. I took a couple of minutes to relax then I swung one tool blindly over the lip of the small roof and got good purchase. Swung the other tool and let my feet cut loose in the dark. Couple more moves and i was over, on a fairly flat platform and facing the summit few meters ahead. A bit more moderate climbing and cutting trough a powdery cornice put me on the summit. I begun down-climbing southward on a quite corniced thin ridge then down to the col where Adi was waiting for me having climbed a snow slope to provide me with a quicker descent route. We recovered my skis while avoiding a small avalanche slab ready to go and we returned (myself more tumbling than anything else) to the hut to some yummy food, light talk and good sleep.
Next morning climbing was out of question. Heavy snowing and total whiteout sent us playing on the ice with hopes of improvement in the weather. When that didn’t happen until early afternoon we headed back and i was the luckiest person to get a ride to Pitesti from some guys in the mountain rescue team from Arges, then a minivan to Bucharest, being home by 8:30pm. The grimmer alternative would have been a ride to Sibiu and waiting to a train at 12am to take me to Bucharest by 5am. Phew….
Photo (c) Adrian Valean
Photo (c) Adrian Valean
All in all it was lots of fun!
The route:
Being so close to the hut and the main trampling area i hold back claiming a first ascent… It seems highly improbable, but one never knows…
The height gain measured with the GPS was 90m, the actual time it took me to climb it was 1 hour and 10 minutes. I suggest an M5 rating, however it is quite possible the conditions and lack of perspective to have made it feel harder than it actually is…
Photo (c) Adrian Valean
Red – the line of ascent Blue – line of descent Green – Adi’s climb up to meet me and the continuation of the line of descent
I spent my 08/09 New Year in the mountains, back home in Romania and re-learning how to ski. In the break i managed to put up what might be two first ascents in the Rodnei mountains. I called them ‘Cow’ and ‘Chicken’ for no better reason that the cartoon song was torturing me since we left Baia Mare city. The style was ground up, onsight, free solo – albeit at modest grades. fun has been had and some little avalanches sprinkled in to make it spicy.
This was Paul’s first alpine outing and am sure not the last…
