I have long been captivated by Saxony and Bohemian sandstone, it has all the ingredients that ignite and inspire my personal climbing goals.

As a UK trad climber and crack addict, I first discovered Elbsandstein in the 90s, drawn by the multitude of stunning features in its magical landscape, I became totally obsessed.

Not only does these areas offer the most aesthetic lines but its unique ethics add another dimension, a tangable connection with the past, in a world of ever changing technology the climbing experience here takes you back to its primal basics, you and the rock, the mixture of technique and commitment with a sprinkling of fear; The ground up approach leaves the challange untainted, meaning you get both a physical and a mental workout.

I have spent close to 40 years traveling far and wide in search of inspiring climbing objectives, and for me, there is no better place; it now feels like my spiritual home.

Initial inspiration came from the likes of Bernd Arnold and Herbert Richter, and the gauntlet thrown down by the earlier pioneers and standards achieved for the time never fail to amaze me.

Wide cracks are my pleasure of choice, hand, fist, offwidth, and squeeze. For many years I felt like an outcast, struggling to find a regular climbing partner with staying power, who enjoyed the creative brutality of the style, Then about 6 years ago I was fortunate to find an equal in the form of Dutch offwidth climber Kris Schrijvers (aka The Dutch crusher), Kris had served his offwidth apprenticeship in the USA with local sandstone gurus Pamela Shanti Pack and Devin Finn. We quickly became friends and formed a strong climbing connection.

This June I took a break from the sea cliffs of Cornwall to meet up with Kris in the Legendary sandstone mecca of Adrspach and have our skills put to the test.

Having done battle with many of the area’s mega cracks in the past;

“Udolni” Hlaska (Teplice)
“Big wall” The President (Elbe Valley),
“Ostrisse” Dreifingerturm (Schrammsteine),
“Schiefer Tod” Einsiedler (Pfaffenstein)
“Talseite” Schwager (Schrammsteine)

to name a small selection.

We arrived with a list of potential test pieces in our style of choice,

Kris had one in particular that sparked our interest, it was an awesome line, first climbed in 1961 by the legendary sandstone master Herbert Richter.

It was also Richter’s 90th birthday this year, so an ascent felt a fitting tribute.

STARA CESTA (OLD ROUTE), VIIIa (6a+), SKŘÍŇ TOWER

The Stara Cesta on the Skrin tower follows an impressive line carving a steep crack from bottom to top.

Thankfully it is situated on the North East face, which was perfect for the high temperatures and humidity we were experiencing.

It starts with a diagonal hand/fist crack through a series of small overhangs, before turning offwidth and soaring vertically up the headwall to an awkward overhanging finish.

The first pitch proved to be both technical and strenuous, requiring sketchy powerful moves off flared undercut jams, with little in the way of footholds except friable sandy smears, I won’t give away the details of the crux, but needless to say, it made me work; After my initial attempt I down climbed with a flash pump to lick my wounds… Kris’s attempt ended with the same result!

15 minutes later I was back at my high point and after testing the knot I dug deep for some commitment, and with a surge of adrenaline managed to find the right combination of jams to unlock the sequence then make the sketchy moves across and up to belay under the roof.

Kris pulled powerfully out over the roof in a flurry of sandstone dust to gain the offwidth on the 2nd pitch then disappeared from view; The rope steadily moved up through my belay device whilst a combination of guttural sounds and whoops of joy drifted back down, clearly he was in his element having a good time bypassing the next ring and linking the whole headwall crack to the stance.

A while later I followed, throwing in a wide variety of offwidth techniques, arm bars, Chicken wings, and gastons in the lower half, then switching to Leavittation with butterfly stacks, knee locks, and heel toes in the upper half, grinning to myself at Kris’s stamina and drive to keep going!

My arrival at the belay was met with much laughter and back slapping in celebration of a joint effort.

The last pitch proved to be a sting in the tail and a fitting finale to a superb route offering an awkward overhanging continuation to the lower offwidth which is devoid of protection and focuses the mind.

At the summit we sat a while, immersed in the magic of the surrounding landscape, enjoying the warmth of the sun, listening to the breeze through the trees, and the distant call of soaring falcons.

We sign our names in the book, tip our hats in respect of the talented Mr Richter, then with big fat grins of satisfaction, descend in search of a cold pivo.

At the end of another trip, it was “Stara cesta” on the Skrin, along with an ascent of the superb offwidth “Zalomena Spara” on the Tarzan tower that stood out and left an indelible mark.

“Musi Spara” and “Heavy Shackles” remain on our list!

I guess we’ll be back soon.

Dekuji, Adrspach!

“My lifelong motto has been: climbing is great. Always and everywhere,” said Herbert Richter more than six years ago in our interview. “When you climb on sandstone, you have to have a little fear and respect. And so it’s okay. You just have to climb what you know and what you’re good at, not the other way around.“

The climber, who was one of the world’s top climbers in the 1960s and one of the most famous first ascents in Saxon Switzerland and Broumov, celebrated his 90th birthday this week. He was born in Meissen on 29 January 1935. You probably know his name from the guidebook to the Adršpach and Teplice Rocks. You can find him at beautiful lines like Parrot’s Crack VIIc on Parrot Tower, Solstice VIIc on Mayor or Muses Crack VIIIb on Teplice’s Lahvičky.

It wasn’t easy to get to Adr in the sixties. He waited four years for a visa to Czechoslovakia, but by all accounts it was worth it. “We had eyes like that. It was like a fairy tale — beautiful, exciting. Even the people, the language, the cultural differences,” he recalled with Alesak. Once Adr gets you, it’s love for life. Although Herbert hung up his climbing shoes in 2011, he keeps coming back. Probably for the cultural differences, most often to the Krecbachs’ cottage.

EVERYTHING WENT WELL

tells Ondra Krecbach

“When the new guidebook was launched at Ádr, Herbert slept with us. In the evening we had coffee in the cottage and Herbert told us how 50 years ago he used to go to the Stránskýs’ cottage or to Křižák. Those were good times because Herbert always brought us some slings or carabiners, which we didn’t have at all. I still have one of those slings. The evening progressed and from the cottage we went to the christening where the band was playing. Herbert kept dancing until three in the morning. He had a bottle of honey in his pocket, which he had received as a VIP guest, and he kept announcing as he danced: ‘Be careful, otherwise you’ll all get very dirty!‘

The next day he came to the cottage and lay on the couch for about three hours. He was very sick, but he was very happy. Only he kept saying he didn’t want to die in Ádr, but at home… He was really sick. We wanted to call a doctor, but he told us not to. In the end everything went well and now on Wednesday he celebrated his 90th birthday!”

On behalf of the editors of eMontana we wish Herbert lots of strength for the next Adršpach parties and vigour and health until at least 100.

We wrote about the solo exploits of British alpinist James Price in December 2021 (he received the title of “lad of the year” in both the Montana and eMontana publications. You’ll find it here. Last year we published a short article about his other attempt to traverse the Batura massif in Pakistan, where he climbed Pasu Sar (7470m) without support Alpine style. On both occasions his friend Sébastien documented him and he recently produced a film. We asked Sébastien for a short introduction, editor’s notice.

___________________

How did I meet James? He took me on the Haute Route, a winter ski-alp traverse between Chamonix and Zermatt. I was a tough experience for me to head off to the mountains with him, because I was certainly not at the top of my ‘Alpinist’ game. I headed off to his home turf, where James wanders about.

Our friendship began from this traverse across the Alps and we wanted to do more together. When James asked me if I wanted to go to Pakistan with him, I immediately said yes.

I do not regret my decision in the slightest… I came back with life-changing adventures. I discovered incredible landscapes, met great friends and had memorable and wonderful experiences with them in the mountains, and we also made a film!

I think with today’s technology it is easier to get great shots. What is getting harder, however, is finding a good story; especially one that touches you, and makes you want to tell it.

I wanted the film to articulate James’ approach to Alpinism (without support and porters), which is strongly connected to his way of life and his goals.

As a filmmaker I found something that touched me and gave me the energy to continue filming despite adverse conditions. This energy pushed me through the editing phase in the moments when I struggled to find motivation.

The film is short, but I’m glad that we were able to share this incredible story.

It hasn’t worked out yet. For a while now, we’ve been trying to document an ascent of ‘Alter Traum’, Xa, RP Xb in Oybin in the Žitava mountains (one of the oldest 7c+ in the world, editor’s note). According to our digging, this approximately 50m route seems to be the oldest ten-grade route in sandstone history.

Werner Schönlebe, who we’re trying to hunt down, did it in November 1981 and unwittingly beat Bernd Arnold, who did his first ten the following April in Rathen (‘Schallmauer’ Xa, fr. 7b+, on the Amselspitze, editor’s note) and even Jindřich ‘Hudy’ Hudeček and his variant of Arnold’s route ‘Superdirekte Wand der Abendröte’ Xa on the Nonnengärtner in September 1982. Why unwittingly? Werner graded the route IXb (fr. 7a), which with time, proved to be completely wrong.

To compare with the Czech’s progress in grade-pushing, Roman Brt started doing tens in the Pantheon in 1983. The famous ‘Petr a Pavel’ route in Prachov graded Xa was done in 1986 and in the same year the first Xa in Tisá was done, dubbed ‘Škalda’. That fruitful year also brought about the first Xa in the Elbe valley, ‘Světelný rok’, also by ‘Hudy’, which has been since downgraded to IXc, so another route by ‘Hudy’ from 1988 called ‘Bílá oblaka’ now holds the title. The legendary ‘Špek’ did his first ten in 1991.

The slightly overhanging ‘Alter Traum’ therefore surpassed all the aforementioned first ascents. “It’s also pretty deserving of the grade, considering that it’s the first,’ says Honza Kendík, who we filmed during an attempt in August this year. (Honza climbs 8b+ on sport routes, editor’s note). He could not however climb the crux above the third ringbolt, despite an early start. He added to Sam Mašťálko’s bail, who we filmed on the route three years ago.

We plan to head back to Oybin to film once more in the autumn – for a third time, hopefully with better friction. Hopefully, we’ll manage a team AF, if we use our whole team’s strength. We checked the logbook, and the route has only had seven repeats – the last in autumn of 2009. We weren’t exactly thorough while leafing through it, but it also seems the route has never been repeated by a Czech person. Ondra Sojka came close a few years ago, who got above the crux move into a shallow crack, but the February cold got the better of him, and he also subsequently bailed.

He’s one of the few Czech sandstone-climbers who has climbed all the towers in Saxony, of which there are about 1200. Pavel Krupka lives in Litoměřice, but almost every weekend he heads off in the direction of the Elbe Sandstones – Tisá, Ostrov, Rájec, Saxony… and has been doing so since 1968.

A while back his partner Danka Kadlecová revealed to the author of this article that in the Autumn they had celebrated his 20,000th ascent. They were unphased by the cold and misty weather and went climbing… we’ll let Pavel tell us how it all went. 

Can you describe ascent number 20,000 for us? I heard it was in Saxony on Rauschenstein.
It was cold and miserable, so we chose the route ‘Alter Südweg’ from the valley-facing south side, which I had surprisingly never climbed before. It has two stars in the guidebook, and for a grade II route it was quite interesting. I would not want to climb it without a rope. (Laughing) It’s about 70 meters and made up entirely of gullies and weird slabs.

Any ringbolts?
Yeah, there’s one. In the past there were none, but they’ve put in two belaying bolts. It’s climbed in three pitches. 

How’d you celebrate?
We didn’t really. (Laughing) It’s not exactly news appropriate, but we had some Becherovka (Czech ‘herbal liqueur’)… (Laughing) Anyway, if record-breaking is what you’re after, I had a jubilee-filled year this year. In June for my birthday, I did my 3000th summit, and a month later I had done my 10,000th route. (Laughing)

Wait 20,000th or 10,000th? I’m not sure I understand…
I distinguish between summits, routes and ascents. You can climb a route three times, so thanks to that you can have three ascents. If I have 20,000 ascents and I’ve done 10,000 routes it means that on average I’ve done each one twice. (Laughing)

So you don’t count attempts?
No. Only the routes I’ve climbed outdoors. I consider myself to be a bit of a lunatic-collector. When I started climbing in 1968, coincidentally I started bringing a diary with me. I’m not exactly sure why. I started doing this immediately from the moment I did my first route. It’s why I’ve managed to keep track of everything. Most people are disorganised and can only make estimates.

Does the diary still fit in your house?
(Laughing). Yeah, it’s only a few notebooks. Half-a-meter’s worth approximately. It’s in my library. 

What was your first route?
Oh I remember that quite vividly: Prachov, Náprstkova tower via the ‘Old Route’ graded at I. (Laughing)

Well that’s impressive, you’ve managed to improve a whole grade in 50 years. (Laughing)
I know right! (Laughing) It’s sort of reflective of the parabolic nature of life — growth followed by decline. (Laughing) (author’s note: at his peak Pavel climbed IX grade routes and Meisterwegs)

Was that parabola ever interrupted by a pause of some kind?
Never. I climb constantly. But the amount is determined by all those years and by the fact that I’ve been messing about on practice crags for the past couple of years. When you climb in the mountains, the number of ascents doesn’t grow quite as quickly. But doing the most ascents is not the point of climbing. (Laughing)

What’s the point of climbing then?
Fun. (Laughing)

Kuba ‘Ratlík’ Kácha set off for the Himalayas with no plan. He wanted to be surprised so he had no set goal in mind and decided to improvise. He met Hook (Czech alpinist and guide Zdeněk Hák, ed. notice.) at Prague International Airport, but at that point neither of them had considered that they would climb the west face of Ana Dablam (6,812m). They met again on Lobuche (6119m) after Hook’s partner had packed it in and gone home, so Hook proposed they climb Ama Dablam together.

Ratlík took the offer and after two nights on the wall on the 12^th of November they completed a new variant on the west face by connecting two existing routes. For the bottom half the climbed the ‘American Direct’ route from 1990 and for the top half they followed Míra Šmíd’s 1986 solo-route. (Míra Šmíd was one of the best Czech alpinists back then, ed. notice) The lads say that grade-wise it was about UIAA 4, M4, WI 4, 1500M, alpine TD+/ED-. What did Kuba ‘Ratlík’ Kácha think of his spontaneous adventure? Read the short chat we had with him while he was still in the Khumbu region.

How did it go?
Everything went rather smoothly. Well, everything except getting a permit. We thought that once you paid for it, you could climb whatever you wanted. We did the ‘Normal Route’ first. I climbed alone and Hook climbed with a client. It then became apparent that we needed to pay again if we wanted to climb again. We paid $3400 for a liaison officer and his insurance, and he didn’t even show up in the end. We also paid for a local guide, who also didn’t go with us, and his insurance as well, which was another $1000. Then it was $400 for the permit and everyone payed $400 tax… initially, we didn’t want to pay, but in the end, we caved in and coughed up. Hook’s sponsors and a couple of patrons helped us out.

What about conditions?
Before we got here, we got a good half-a-meter of snow. The north face was just powder, absolutely desperate, but conditions on the east face were brilliant. For us on the ridge, the left side was rubbish, but the right side had firn on it.

Did you actually know what you were preparing to climb?
(Laughing) One option was to do a more direct version of the south ridge after the French, but we didn’t fancy the walk over there. That gave us three options on the west face: one was to do Míra Šmíd’s route, but the seracs that he wrote about made this seem dangerous. Part of a serac had fallen off on one expedition. But Míra Šmíd was on it solo and not all-that long, which we determined lowered the objective danger. We then considered ‘Free Tibet’, the Spanish route to the left, but that one goes under an even nastier serac. It did, however, seem to be the easiest with nice snow fields. Ultimately, Hook came up with the idea of doing the central pillar and then linking onto Šmíd’s route. It appeared to be the safest and it also looked like it had the most proper climbing. Even when we made our approach though, we hadn’t realised that it had already been done. It didn’t bother us much though, we just headed straight up.

How did you figure out what you were climbing in the end?
We got a heads-up from the French, who had taken over the database of logged ascents from a woman who had been mapping it out here (Elizabeth Hawley). In the end we realised we had done a variant, because the Americans had gone to the right above the serac and linked up with the normal route, while we continued straight up Šmíd’s line. The first ascensionist Chris Warner confirmed this when he congratulated us via the internet. Apparently, he’d been on the route for four days and got frostbite on nine of his fingers.

Did you do it Alpine style with no support from base camp?
No, base-camp support is standard here. They fed me there for two weeks, and it was just like my mum’s cooking. We slept like we did at primary school, and we had breakfasts, lunches, dinners… (laughing). It’s quite a big camp and each party has its own ‘tent city’. Everyone’s got their own cook, canteen, party tent with Christmas tree… We were here on ‘Tráva’s’ behalf (Honza Trávníček, ed. notice) with Utmost Adventures. Base Camp was already paid for from our first permit.

Can you give us the blow-by-blow?
We set off from Base Camp in the morning and pitched our tent under the wall. The next morning, we set off early and headed up the wall, which we completed after two bivis.

What were you carrying?
Just like Šmíd, about 15 kilos including half-a-litre of stove fuel. (Laughing) No, we carried around eight kilos each. Míra had more chocolate and salami from home.

What did you eat?
Hook is adamant that there shouldn’t be much eating on a route, which I don’t understand at all. We packed some ‘travellunches’ so we each had two for a day – one for breakfast and one for dinner. But Hook barely touched them! Over the entire period of the ascent, he ate only one, I think. I ate everything otherwise; I was hungry. We had 250g of bacon, which we didn’t eat… Hook had four biscuits and gave me half. I had nine and ate them really quickly.

So what was Hook running on then? Spiritual energy?
(Laughing) I’ve got no idea what he was running on. Probably sports drinks and some kind of dissolving powder drink stuff… I’ve got no idea. He had five pairs of gloves though and I only had four. I tell you what though, I would have swapped one of the pairs for some chocolate. We didn’t have much of that.

Did you bring your classic knitted jumper, hole-ridden leggings, and other signature apparel?
Hook kitted me out. (Laughing) But for the sake of my dignity, I kept my leggings and old/new jumper. The torn pink one didn’t come with me though. Hook gave me trousers, a coat and gloves.

What’s it like climbing with a mountain guide/with Hook?
Climbing with him is just brilliant. He always plans everything ahead… he’s quite hard on himself honestly. For instance, in one gully, he decided to veer off onto a ridge, but once on it he thought it was a stupid idea and he started cursing himself quite a lot. Otherwise climbing with him was good and we were constantly swapping lead, so it was all nice and relaxed. Except for the fact that he doesn’t eat, the brilliant thing about him is that once he crawls into his sleeping bag, he won’t move a muscle all night. I, on the other hand, go to the loo three times, then I’ll cook some food… but Hook just lays there motionless…

Did you do a lot of simul-climbing?
No, we belayed each other all the way up – we swapped lead after each pitch because it was hard. We always belayed each other on mixed terrain and rock or if the snow was bad. One of us would lead a full pitch and then anchor off in a hole or on some ice-screws. Hook climbed the harder pitches, and they mostly fell on him in the rota. On the last day in the morning, I wasn’t really in the mood for leading and Hook was definitely fresher. Even in the snow he was moving better. He was definitely better off physically. We zipped off fixed lines from the summit; quite a divergence from what Míra Šmíd had to face. We already new the way down, and during the night, basically on autopilot, we abseiled on the fixed lines that were put up this year. All the ropes on the entire descent route are tied together, all two kilometres, so it’s impossible to get lost.

Simultaneously people often view Ama Dablam as a sacred mountain. How did you digest this?
It’s quite a frequented mountain nowadays. You’re not really under the impression that you’re climbing a sacred mountain. There are choppers flying about constantly carrying down someone from a party and alike. I mean you see the Christmas tree in base camp, and you feel like you’re in Chamonix. (“It feels more like the north face of the Eiger during its early days, when they were watching the climbers with binoculars from Kleine Scheidegg. They were isolated on the wall, but everyone was watching them” adds Hook). Even our second bivi was at the same altitude as camp 3 on the normal route. We even saw clients poking their heads out their tents and gawking at us. There really isn’t a feeling of isolation. Compared to the Alps though, nobody is really interested that someone’s on the north face of the Eiger. Here, we were the talk of the town, because the Sherpas don’t really climb this stuff. If there’s no fixed ropes, they can’t be bothered.

How did Hook enjoy climbing with you?
Right… I’m getting a beer. (Laughing) Hook: When I consider the fact that I pulled him out of a dustbin in Kathmandu, it was absolutely brilliant. Kuba’s just the kind of climber who suits me. You don’t have to explain anything to him, and he automatically does what you expect from him. Like if the rope starts to run out, he doesn’t yell, he just starts climbing. It was easy-going all the way up. Every pitch that falls on him, he climbs.

Had you met before?
Hook: No, we met at the airport before take-off. We had never climbed together before. At first I was thinking to myself: “Who is this moron? What’s he doing stumbling about in the Himalayas?”. While we were acclimatising on Lobuche, he just popped up after dark, climbed up and we didn’t see him after… then we met him again somewhere else… he was just stumbling about, but when David left, we started chatting about Adršpach and became closer. I then offered if he wanted to do Ama Dablam with me. I saw him descending off Lobuche, so I reckoned he was fast and technically proficient. It then became clear that he was going to be good. You can tell these kinds of things right away. (Laughing)

In hindsight what do you think of Míra Šmíd’s effort then?
Ratlík returns with his beer: on the nights in the bivis we were having a crack at Šmíd’s stories. We laughed when he wrote: “I don’t think I’m exaggerating; the surrounding terrain is steep, 85°-90°, rock climbing.” We said to ourselves: “Oh sure it is! It never goes beyong 70°!”. Then we belayed each other on every pitch, and it was proper climbing. We expected it to be much easier then Míra Šmíd’s description. We thought he was embellishing it a bit for his book, so it would look good: “Vertical terrain. Grade V.” Well, it was precisely like he said it was. He was just generally impressive. What he could do in a day! He spent one day less on the route than we did. He had it technically easier on the lower section, but it was still hard. And the descent I just straight up don’t understand. Nevertheless, after 30 years, our ascent was still a substantial achievement, which we appreciate. We got quite a lot of positive comments from around the world which we are happy about.

Maybe it was Alex Huber who made this area so hard and true to grades. In the 90s, he made several 9a routes in the area that had been waiting for years to be repeated. With a pinch of salt: “these lines were waiting for Adam Ondra to grow and send them.” If you asked Adam what his last year’s best sport-climbing achievement was, he would reply “Warmduscher”, which is a route located in the cult Austrian area, Schleier Wasserfall.

He managed to climb this hard-to-read 8c+ on-sight and this week he was awarded the “Ascent of the Year” from the Czech Mountaineering Association (ČHS) for it. (You can find the complete list of the awards at the following link) What is the story behind this extraordinary climb which he made last July? And what does he allows himself to know and learn about a route if he wants to log it as a true “OS”? You will learn all of that and more in the following interview.

Can you describe the route a bit?
I was recommended this variant by a local climber, Christian Pointner. You start off with the 8c route “Fight Club” which is located right in the middle of Scheier Wasserfall, you climb 15 meters up to a ledge, from which you link to a 15-meter-long endurance climb, and then you continue slightly to the left into a relatively easy stretch. Some say that a few holds broke off, so the lower part should be 8b+/8c.

Then there is a direttissima called “Eiszeit” 8c+/9a which has a pretty hard boulder under the chains. I think it has not been repeated yet. The first ascent was made by Helmut Kotter. Just below this boulder, you can climb slightly to the right and you will hit 8b + “Black Pearl”. Linking these pieces together, you create a beautiful line which has around 50 meters. It involves the crux of “Fight Club” but then, instead of finishing the route with the easy part, you switch to the other line and finish it off with twenty meters of hard climbing, all the way up to the highest point of the whole wall. This variant ends just besides the chains of the legendary routes such as “Weisse Rose” (See our article Climbing Milestones), “Open Article” and “Black Power”.

So after climbing the first part of “Fight club”, you could choose where to go next, and since you felt good, you decided on a harder variant…
Yeah exactly. (Adam laughs) It was already the end of the day, during which I managed to climb the “Orca” 8c + by Alex Huber (read our interview), made in 2001 which was not repeated until then. (After Adam, Jacob Schubert climbed it last autumn, but he opted to climb the crux from the left side, which is 8b). So I was already happy with what I had achieved during that day, and I was a bit tired as well… However, I had spend so much time training in the gym, so I was so motivated and stoked on climbing that I decided to try “Warmduscher” as well.

How did it go?
I barely climbed the lower 8c part, I had to put a real fight there. And then the upper part came. I am still so glad I managed to finish it. It is not so clear when climbing on-sight. There were quite a few moves, in which I got terribly confused. Often, I found myself in a wrong sequence with my hands tangled.

There were not many chalk-marks, were there?
Well, Christian had been probably trying it for a while but it was just after the rainy season and the route was barely dry. Some holds were even a bit wet, so there weren’t any chalk marks left. I often had to stay fixed for a few moments and search for the right holds. This is what makes the on-sight so valuable for me.

Do you find it harder to climb on-sight in Schleier Wasserfall than in the Red River Gorge? (In the Red River Gorge, Adam on-sighted “Golden Ticket” 9a and “Pure Imagination” 9a. He then lowered the grade of both of these routes to 8c +)
In general, I’d agree that climbing on-sight is a bit harder on the Austrian limestone than the sandstone in Red River Gorge. This is due to the fact that the chalk is much more visible on the brown sandstone. On top of it, the individual moves of the most of the routes in Red River Gorge are relatively simple. Another advantage is that almost all holds are horizontal there — so you just hang on to them and have enough time to look up and think about the following moves. On the other hand, the Schleier Wasserfall gives you mostly side pulls and underclings. And when you’re pulling on the undercling with “your biceps contracted”, you don’t have the time to look around and see what comes next. In Wasserfall, you have to risk your moves much more. You just have to go for whichever hold you see. You could hesitate but then you have to have a damn huge amount of spare stamina. For sure, I think that to red-point the “Golden Ticket” is harder than “Warmduscher” but the real value of on-sighting “Warmduscher” is even higher because you need to go full gas in the lower boulder problem and the move is really uncertain. I think that more people would be able to on-sight the “Golden Ticket” (video)

Most of the world’s best climbers did not grow up in the Moravian Karst, right?
Well, actually, as far as on-sighting is concerned, I don’t have training from the Karst either. Unfortunately. (he laughs) It would be great if I could wipe my memory blank and go back to Karst to collect some on-sights. I wonder what I would climb. If I managed to send some local 10+ (8b+) OS-style, I would be lucky. I don’t think I could on-sight any 8c (11-) over there.

Is there any OS climb you see as the most valuable for you?
That’s clear to me — “Il Domani” 9a. It’s one of those three 9as I ever managed to climb on-sight, and with this one, I am sure that the grade is right. The others felt way too soft for 9a and also were quite easy to read. “Il Domani”, however, is a different story. Of course, there is the slight advantage of the overhang following the ground beneath, so you can walk under it and study some of the moves… something like the “Underground” (9a in Arco), but because the rock is greyish in Arco, you cannot see the holds that well.

I’m interested in “reading” the route from below and so on… to what extent do you allow yourself to study the route if you still want to call it an on-sight?
Well, as for me, I don’t care if the quickdraws are already up or you have to carry them – both counts as an on-sight for me. One of these is an “OS RP” and the other an “OS PP”. Of course, clipping all the quickdraws by yourself is more difficult but both is still an OS. Just as a FLASH can be either a “FLASH RP” or a “FLASH PP”.

Photos?
I think you can see the photos because that is just inevitable — sometimes, it is even listed in the guidebook. (He laughs) But of course, studying twenty different photos of the whole crux would be a different story – not cool by me.

Videos?
Watching a video, even a month before the attempt, is not okay from my point of view…

Overheard conversations under the crag?
Well, sometimes you can’t entirely avoid it. (he laughs) And sometimes the guidebook even gives you a description such as: “A hard boulder to start with and then it becomes easier.” So when I read such a line in the guidebook, I still count the attempt as an OS. As for the people, I’m trying to warn them in advance: “Hey, I really want to try it OS, so please don’t tell me anything about the line. (he laughs) I’m never trying to interrogate my fellow climbers about the individual moves or the hard parts… Some climbers might be surprised that I even avoid looking at the route when I’m being lowered from one of the nearby lines. What about… climbing a tree and studying it? (Adam laughs) Well… that’s a question. Looking at the route from some lower rock? That’s cool by me. The issue of returning is also a bit controversial. According to our tradition, once you get your feet off the ground, you cannot return. However, the ethics of some English climbers is that if you downclimb without jumping back to the ground from the fourth bolt, you still have a chance to climb it on-sight. I don’t believe in that.

What about chalk marks?
There’s nothing you can do about it when the marks are already there. But to ask a friend: “Could you go through it and mark it for me?” Would not be okay, though. (he laughs) Of course, you could also wait a few years and let others mark it without you knowing… It’s hard.

Let’s get back to “Warmduscher”. How come that you, who is usually accompanied by a film crew, managed to climb one of the best lines of the past season without a single photo, video, etc.?
I climbed it during a national team training camp. It is true that nobody filmed or took pictures of me climbing the route. You see, I’m not always followed by a film crew.

Did you feel better outside of the focus of the camera lens?
I wasn’t too nervous about this route, I didn’t feel there was much at stake – actually, I hadn’t even known about it until the last moment. So I think that somebody filming me wouldn’t change much. Of course, the feeling of being filmed isn’t always that good.

The route is called “Warmduscher” which literally translates as “a person taking a warm shower”.. what about cold showers, though, are you into that?
No I’m not. According to Chinese medicine, I am the type of person for whom the cold morning showers are not so good – supposingly, my constitution would make me more prone to catching a cold then. I do think that it is good for certain people, but for me, the cold shower is a better idea in summer.

So you would not chop holes into the ice in the winter, then.
Well, I did… but just to cool there after a sauna session. (he laughs) By the way, as soon as I clipped into the chains of “Warmduscher”, it started pouring down with rain. When I was being lowered down, I took a proper shower in the rain and I even got some side-splash from the waterfall. So in the end, even the “kalte Dusche” was the game. (he laughs)

What is your name?
My name is Viktor. And I’m seven years old.

Viki, how long have you been climbing?
Since I was about four years old.

Do you know what it means when someone “bails from a route”?
That means you just could not finish the route.

They say you have bailed from a route recently. How did it happen?
Well, it happened to me because I came there and chose that route, because it was sort of the easiest one that was around there. And then I started climbing, and I was climbing and climbing… until I got to that spot which was simply the hardest. I had enough energy, I was climbing slowly, and then when I got to that spot it was just too hard for me. So I had to abseil down but I told myself that I had to try it again.

Did you give it another go?
Well, dad told me that we were going for a swim, so we went for a swim. It was in Austria, the sun was shining, so I climbed on my dad’s back and dad was swimming with me, and I was kicking my feet. But then I went down and something happened but I didn’t notice. Because when dad got me out of the water, I saw that my little finger was bleeding. “Dad, I’m bleeding from my little finger,” I called. I had two little cuts by shells – we found out. So then I couldn’t wear my climbing shoes anymore, and we had to go home and we saw some sowbread and houseleek growing along the way.

Where was it?
I don’t remember exactly, somewhere near Traunsee, around, how should I put it… for example 26 kilometers from the town.

And do you know the grade of that route?
Hmmm, wait, yeah, 3b. It was simply the easiest route which was there. There were three same routes, you see, so I just picked one.

Who lead the route?
My mum.

Have you ever climbed a route that you liked a lot?
I climbed a route on the “Mumie” tower and then another one that I liked a lot. There was a book up there and dad wrote there: “Viktor and mommy and daddy.”

Where was it?
Somewhere, yeees, how should I… Sand rocks. Sandstone. Near Sněžník. Yeah, in Tisá! And I climbed a chimney route there, it was quite easy, and the chimney was just terribly good. I climbed it in a bit of a weird way. At first, I tried leaning my back against one side with my feet on the other one, but I couldn’t reach there and I would have fallen. So I had to put my hands and feet like this in between the walls and I had to make small steps but then I made it to the top and it was just so good.

Where do you like climbing most: on sandstone or in the mountains?
On sandstone or in the mountains? Definitely on sandstone because sandstone is just so washable by water, that the water digs good holds into it, because it’s so soft – and then I can climb up there and really enjoy it. But in the Alps, I like that I could walk among cows and there was a giant bull… But now you have to excuse me I have to run now and catch a butterfly.

Tenhle příběh se k nám do redakce donesl od Lukáše Čermáka. Prý jestli víme o tom, že legendární yosemitský lezec John Bachar před lety navštívil oblast Řež, která se nachází kousek na sever od Prahy po proudu Vltavy, a udělal tu jednu cestu… O tom jsme ještě neslyšeli. Že by v našich skalách zanechal stopu člověk, který společně s Peterem Croftem poprvé vylezl cestu „the Nose“ pod 12 hodin?

Dále už vypráví Lukáš Čermák:

„Mám bratrance Michala Lešnera žijícího v Denveru. Také začínajícího lezce. Před cca 12 lety (já tehdy začínající lezec) v roce 2009 v červnu jsem jej byl tehdy navštívit. Půjčili jsme si auto a jeli jsme se podívat do kolébky skalního lezení do Yosemit. Campem IV se tehdy roznesla zpráva, že se zabil legenda John Bachar. Tehdy jsem toto jméno ještě příliš neznal. Michal měl ale v Hot Springs kamaráda, který patřil do Bacharovy rodiny, s kterým občas lezl.

S Michalem jsem se od té doby neviděl až do loňského roku, kdy za mnou přijel na návštěvu a zalézt do Řeže. Během společné komunikace z něho vypadlo, že Bachar tu byl za totáče taky a že dokonce viděl nějaké fotky či co. Slíbil to prověřit. Trochu jsme popolezli a za měsíc mi od něj přišel email s tímto textem:

V létě roku 1981 byl John na skalním soustředění v německé Frankenjuře, kde krom jiných udělal svoji slavnou „Chasin´the Trane“ (9 UIAA, 7c, pozn. red.). V rámci návštěvy evropských skalních oblastí měl v plánu i lezení v Elbsandstein u Drážďan s Wolfgangem Güllichem u Bernda Arnolda. Lezením v Sasku byl zcela uchvácen a využil tedy proto svoji vstupenku do Východního bloku a popolezl prý i něco v Labáku (foto bohužel žádné není). Odtud byla ale nejrychlejší cesta do Vídně na letiště přímo přes Československou socialistickou republiku. Co čert nechtěl. Kousek před Prahou se klukům asi porouchalo auto a byli bohužel nuceni odvézt ho do servisu, což tenkrát nebylo vůbec jednoduché – sehnat opravu Güllichova BMW.

Nejbližší ubytování pro ně volné bylo v hotelu Vltava v Husinci. Ráno po rozednění byli asi plně očarováni skalní hradbou naproti přes řeku. Neváhali tedy vyrazit se trochu protáhnout do těchto skalních stěn. Po několika cestách ale přišli na to, že to jaksi není ono a ze skal proto radši odešli zpět do hotelu. Johnovi to ale nedalo a padl mu do oka nedaleký skalní hřib u nádraží, kde vysóloval cestu „Catching the Train“ – ta byla později dojištěna několika borháky.“

Je tenhle příběh pravdivý? Nebo to je jen historka, kterou chlapi vymysleli před deseti lety v hospodě u Pepy Maňáka? A není to vlastně tak trochu jedno? Tentokrát necháváme konec otevřený. Aspoň máš motivaci vylézt si devítkový hon v Juře, nebo aspoň ten čtyřkový u Prahy. Třeba tam najdeš odpověď.

Well, it’s been a while but I still remember that failed attempt quite vividly. It was one of my first ones in Adršpach. Everyone remembers the first steps on sandstone, right? You arrive, run straight into the rocks full of enthusiasm, and suddenly you feel so small that you would fit into a matchbox. You have no clue where to start and so just keep wandering around until you meet somebody, who recommends you this “amazing classic route” ideal for beginners.

This story begins with a recommendation just like that. Somebody sent my friend Martin to an allegedly great wall at Zrzek tower, and me and Mára thought that the would be some nice crack nearby as well, so we joined him. And indeed, we found one.

The rest of climbers usually avoid wet, dirty cracks, but for some reason, these lines always lure me. I wrapped myself in a ton of slings and started climbing straight away. The bottom part was just fine — comfortable, soft mossy hand jams. The upper part, however, was much less of a treat. The slings were too small for the crack (if I remember correctly, it was a kind of open “chickenwing”). When I thought about falling, I couldn’t discern if it still was the “broken bones” case or a good old “straight to grave”. But then I recalled one picture from the old printed issue Montana magazine. In the photo, there was a guy using his helmet as huge cam. Back then, I was still a helmet fan, so I did not hesitate for a single moment and tried placing it… It didn’t go exactly according to plan, though. After some desperate tries, I realized there was no way I could place it, threw it away and just climbed on. I think it was my first off-width crack. When I got to the top of the crack, not only ma ankles were bleeding but my face as well. That was because I used the almighty “headjam”.

And that’s still not the end of it. What waited for me above the crack wasn’t the top of the tower but an inviting dark chimney. I knew I couldn’t bear to continue, so I prepared a cunning plan. I didn’t want to give up so I decided to belay Mára up to the top of the crack. There was only one problem. No anchor. I had plenty of slings and knots but there were useless. And then the moment of enlightening came. Climbing Shoes! Wrapped in enough tape, they would make a bomber anchor! Well it wasn’t exactly the safest idea, but what would you expect of a 16-year-old boy scared to death?

“Marek! Off the belay and you can climb. We’ll swap at the anchor!”
“A what’s the anchor, duuude??!”
“Chill, there’s a ring that would hold a bull or two!”

You should have seen his face when he climbed up to me and realized I sort of made up the ring. He wasn’t particularly happy. In fact he was quite angry. Anyway, he decided to climb on. His attempt didn’t take long, though. There was a patch of wet rock, his foot slipped a bit and as you can imagine, he wasn’t really stoked about the route anymore. Fortunately, we were quite lucky. There were some friends down there, who got much bigger balls than we did (big monkey fist knots) so they sent up those, we placed them and somehow managed to rappel down from them.

That was my first experience with such an epic bailing. Rapelling from a knot was probably even worse then using climbing shoes as an anchor. Well this route brought me many first-time experiences… One of them being my trousers getting completely climbed through, all the way to my buttocks.

Neuplynuly ani čtyři dny, je deštivá sobota a my už zase kroutíme volantem u Bodensee. Po čtyřech stech kilometrech špekulování nad předpovědí a podmínkou volíme nakonec opět odbočku na Chamonix, odkud jsme se v úterý vrátili. Ještě před měsícem naprosto nemyslitelný, ale teď si připadáme jako děti v cukrárně, který si nemůžou vybrat, na čem si pochutnají.

Volba padá na Peuterey Integral, nejdelší hřeben v Alpách, který vede z jižní italské strany na Mont Blanc. Převýšení mezi výchozím bodem v Peuterey a posledním kopečkem zmrzliny je asi 3000 metrů. Na hřebeni je ale zhruba 40 slanění a nějakej ten sestup k tomu, celkové převýšení tak pomalu atakuje hodnotu, kterou nasbíráš, pokud vyrazíš na Blanc od moře (4500 metrů).

Ueli Steck na hřeben 14. srpna 2013 potřeboval 16 hodin (včetně sestupu!), čtyři müsli tyčinky, pět powergelů a 60 metrů šestkový repky na slanění. Ve svém reportu popisuje, jak moc nepospíchal, užíval si panoramata, fotil, bloudil a moc si to užil. Na webu na nás ale vypadly i jiný reporty – pět dnů, krušný bivaky, nedostatek jídla a neustálé bloudění. Na celý hřeben, který dohromady zahrnuje čtyři čtyřtisícový vršky, jsme minulou sobotu koukali z lanovky na Pointe Helbronner (3 462 m n. m.). Vypadalo to skvěle.

Cesta ale splňuje naše společné parametry. Kuba si odškrtne další dvě čtyřtisícovky a já si ji zapíšu do túrberichtu. Motivace je, aklimatizace z posledního výletu (Tour Ronde NF, Aiguilles du Diable) je z říše snů. Vyrážíme busem do Itošky, citrónová zmrzka v Courmayeuru a po hodině šlapání v úmorným vedru už nadáváme, jak máme těžký bágly. 

Nástup na chatu Borelli po turistický je už samo o sobě celkem slušný lezení. Chata punková, je tu asi pět lednic, osm mokakonvic a žádná elektrika. Erárním dalekohledem nakoukáváme úvodní délky hřebene Aiguille Noire a v sedm jdem na kutě.

Noc je teplá a neustále se budím, nervozita. Po čtvrtý ráno vylézáme z chaty a mlhou kličkujeme pod stěnu. Věšíme na sebe železo, batoh konečně trochu lehkne. Úvodní délky jsou „tatranský“. Drny, mokro, všechno volný a směr dost nejasnej a už některý „trojkový“ kroky jsou v pohorkách s dvacetimetrovym odlezem dost infarktový. Čeká nás 50 délek. Dneska to bude dlouhej den.

Nějak tímhle ranním peklem ale protančíme. U Pointe Bifide vylézá puňťa, žula začíná být kompaktní. Nálada stoupá. Lezení těžkne a čas letí, je deset.

Za Punta Welzenbach končí hrdinství, přezouváme do lezeček (i Ueli je měl), začínají pětkový dýlky. Ty jsou celkem technický a je v nich i pár skobek. Jdeme do finále. Přilézám pod nejtěžší 5céčkovou. Převislý koutek, říkám si: konečná. Nějak se v tom ale rozkročím a zaklíním batohem a přelízám čistě. Kuba na druhým taky. Ještě pár set metrů na průběh a ke konci sólo a konečně vrcholíme na Aiguille Noire de Peuterey (3773 m n. m.). Je sedm večer a začíná sněžit. Kontrolujeme rychle aktuální předpověď (která není nic moc) a rozhodujeme se pokračovat.

Následuje asi 400 metrů abseil severní stěnou Noire. V prvních slaněních se nám několikrát seká lano a nejde stáhnout, začínáme být sprostí. V rámci urychlení značíme střed lana tejpkou. Před devátou stojíme v sedle pod Les Dames Anglaises. Stmívá se a biváknout by tady šlo s přehledem. Rozhodujeme se ale narvat to až do bivaku Craveri (měly by to být dvě až tři hodiny), nešťastný rozhodnutí.

Asi po půl hodině mi seká a přecházím na autopilota. Za další půlhodinu seká i autopilotovi. Je tma, sólujeme na hřebeni hrozný psycha, pořád se něco sype a vůbec nevíme, kam lezem. Kuba je ale hustej a nějak nás tím protahuje. Slanění, traverzy, volný šutry, sníh. Usínám u toho. Bivakovat absolutně není kde. Tak maximálně se o sebe opřít a počkat do rána. Najednou je před náma plechová spací krabice. Je půlnoc.

Pět hodin pokusu o spánek a začínáme tam, kde jsme skončili. Všechno okolo se sype a nevíme pořádně kudy dál. Jediný pořádný rozdíl oproti včerejšku je v tom, že jsme úplně na kaši. Svítí ale sluníčko a výhledy na Maudit, Tacul, Ronde, Gigante jsou peckovní!

Oblézáme Punta Gugliermina a sen se stává skutečností. Konečně jsme na sněhu. Nazujeme mačky a po firnu to přeběhneme až do Chamonix, říkám si. Houby. Na hřebeni je to jeden skalní práh za druhym, různý věžičky, žlábky a bouldry. V ultralight turistických mačkách od Petzlu žádná sranda. 

Přecházíme hřeben Aiguille Blanche de Peuterey (4112 m n. m.), první čtyřka v kapse. Asi šest až osm slanění do sedla Col de Peuterey, boj s odtrhovkou a začínáme stoupat na Grand Pilier d’Angle (4243 m n. m.). Tenhle úsek si budu pamatovat asi navždy. Vedro, mokrej volnej sníh, nejasnej směr a Kuba v turbomódu. Nemá to konce a každý další krok je dost na hraně. Je to těžký a ne úplně bezpečný. Sólujeme to, chceme být rychlí a dolízt to třeba ještě letos.

Konečně jsme zase na sněhu. A dokonce je i celkem zmrzlej! Čeká nás kuloárek na Mont Blanc de Courmayeur (4748 m n. m.), který je prý v dobrý podmínce celkem snadnej a rychlej. Stopy před náma nějaký vyšlapaný jsou, to bude brnkačka, určitě. Je už odpoledne, výška přibývá, kyslík ubývá a Kuba mačká tlačítko nitro. Nevidím ho. Zatahuje se a fest sněží. Má tu někde být „amazing snowy ridge“, nic takovýho nevidíme, tak maximálně přední hroty maček.

Dolézám Kubu, který montuje štand ze šroubů před nehezky vypadajícím vyledněným traverzem. Když už ho brzdím, tak to alespoň zkusím probojovat na prvním. To naštěstí celkem jde a za chvilku jsme na štandu ve friendu za tímhle zpestřením. Kuba nabízí, že smotá lano a já jdu už dál. Jsem několik desítek metrů nad ním a najednou se z mlhy valí šutr velikosti minicoopra směrem ke Kubovi. Křičím na něj (a popravdě už se s ním pomalu loučím). Naštěstí ho to ale doslova o pár metrů míjí (letí to traverzem, který jsme cca pět minut předtím lezli, klika!).

Rozdýcháme infarkt a valíme dál. Sněží a fouká víc a víc a přichází další vypečenej mixík, všechno volný a nezajistitelný, odhadem skotský III-IV obtížnosti. Přelízám a kdyby nezůstalo lano u Kuby, tak ho i odjistím. Nějak mu to alespoň vyradím a valíme (on valí, já trpím) dál. Jakmile se leze, tak je to dobrý, to Kubovi stačím, možná mám i navrch, ale když přijde taková ta alpinistická dupárna v řídkým vzduchu, tak je pekelně rychlej! Má na mě víc jak 40 vylezených čtyřek náskok, je to prostě čtyřková mašina…

Nemá to konce, deset metrů, minuta pauza. Tempo jak bejk. Jsme na Courmayeuru (4748 m n. m.). Rychlý vaření vody a jdeme do finále. Záverečný metry na Blaníka jsou nekonečný, fouká jak na Nevisu a viditelnost je taky podobná. Orientujem se podle GPSky a počůranýho sněhu – kde je to nejvíc žlutý, tam usuzujem, že jsme na nejvyšším vršku Evropy.

Je sedm večer, kde jsou ty známý davy? Selfie a čus, je tu fakt hnusně! Chvilku bádáme nad směrem skrz mlíko, až trefujeme dálnici směr Valotka. Tu kolem osmé otevíráme. Padáme na matrace a hekáme vyčerpáním a radostí zároveň. Polákům, kteří tu jsou, hrajeme slušný divadlo.

Ráno je hezky a jsme z nejhoršího venku, těla nám ale naprosto nefungujou. 1800 metrů dolů normálkou na vláček přes Gouter a Tête Rousse opět na autopilota. Myslím, že ale i v aktuálním stavu vypadáme líp a v lepší formě než většina dobrodruhů, kteří stoupají proti nám.

Je 14:00 a po čtyřech dnech jsme zpátky u auta v Chamonix. Máme za sebou nejdelší hřeben Alp. V průvodci psali „get ready for a few big days“ a rozhodně nekecali.

O hřebeni Peuterey Integral jsme na eMontaně už jednou psali. Jestli tě tenhle výstup zajímá z ženského pohledu, mrkni na článek Na hřebeni Peuterey Integral jsem visela na vláscích jádra.

Every time I walked through Skalák area around Ocún tower, I couldn’t take my eyes off the route.“Bloody Crack” (“Kravavá spára” VIIc – that matches French 6a but don’t be fooled, editor’s note.) is an aesthetic crack line made by legendary Czech mountaineer Radovan Kuchař. It cuts through the upper right part of the Ocún tower. It’s also one of the few cracks in Skalák area that “lacks holds”. There are not many ladies who have managed to climb it. I know two of them personally – Zorka Prachtelová and Ája Bedrníková. These girls are local legends that hold in high esteem. That’s why it took me a while until I decided to climb the route. When Zorka climbed it, all the local guys stood in awe – even her husband Petr Prachtel couldn’t believe his eyes. Back then it was one of those Routes with big R, in which even some the elite climbers failed.

This year’s unplanned holidays allowed me and certainly many other climbers to spend a lot of time in the rocks. After I recovered from the last season and managed to heal some of the damaged parts of my body, I’ve basically became a full-time climber. When I came to Skalák for second time this year, I already wanted to try the “Bloody Crack”. I didn’t make it a secret and suddenly I had two mates joining me for the project. In the morning I warm up on some easier route and around 11 A.M., I’m already jamming myself into the “Lower Variant” of the “Bloody Crack” (a logical extension of the route graded VII/ca. 5b fr.).

In the first few meters of the extension of the route, you can find some holds around the offwidth but I cannot find a good place for a knot so I rather jam myself deeper into the crack. Suddenly I get stuck, I feel like I should be climbing the crack the other way around. Dan supports me from below and takes pictures, and above me, in the window under the start of the “Bloody Crack” itself, there’s another paparazzi, Peťa, who shouts at me: “I have the snack ready for you! Come and get it!” I somehow manage to solve this absurd situation, I turn around, jam the left side of my body into the crack, and continue climbing.

After all, I wiggle my way up the narrow chimney, and I emerge right next to the promised snacks. I hydrate myself, take a deep breath, place a first sling and carefully traverse through the fragile sandstone passage typical for Skalák area to the first ring of the “Bloody Crack” pitch. I clip in. “So, it begins,” I say to myself. I start climbing up from the ring. Standing in a wide split in the window, I’m trying to jam my upper body into the offwidth crack above me. There are some good footholds on the right side but the ring is on the left. I jam my right knee into the offwidth but the rope rubs on the rock and holds me back. I fight for a while and then retreat back to the split position to rest for a while. The second try is much more successful. Using the double hand jam technique, I manage to lift myself up a bit and turn around in the crack. Now that’s it.

I was afraid that my knee would not fit into the crack but fortunately the opposite is true. I enjoy the amazing straight crack that looks almost artificial – it’s an excercise including all sorts of offwidth techniques including the double handjam, kneejam and the heel-toe. I climb up to the only notch in otherwise-perfect crack hoping that there’s some good place for a bomber knot. No such luck – I only manage to thread some thin hourglass. Fortunately, the route gets easier here and I continue up to the top without any further problems. “Off belay!” I shout at the belayer and I enjoy the wave of euphoria from finishing yet another iconic route.

I don’t want to build an anchor at the belaying point left to the crack. “In case they fell out of the crack, they could take a huge swing,” I think to myself. So, I make the anchor right above the crack extending the anchor right on top of the tower. I throw my crack gloves to my fellow climbers and I start belaying.

But when Dan sits into the rope, my belay device disappears into the opening of the crack. What now? Fortunately, he yells at me: “I’m back at the ring.” I respond: “Great, could you clip into it for a while?” I shout at him from above and I try to find a way to get the belay device from the crack. Somehow, I manage to lift the rope up a bit and fish the belay device from the depth of the crack. Finally, I opt for the original anchor and I find out that it’s safer than I thought – you put the rope straight into the crack and it safely holds there, preventing any possible side swing. Dan prefers not to try my belaying tactics again; he focuses on a proper heel-toe technique and manages to get all the way to the top without any falls. Then we belay Peťa, who gives the new anchor a proper test. It seems to work.

We all meet at the top. I read some of the records from the summit book and then we rappel. Finally, a reward – a beer and a proper snack. We don’t celebrate for too long, though, as there are many other great wall routes expecting us today. The “Bloody Crack” however, remains to be the one, which we will remember for a long time.

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Editorial note: The route (protected with only one ringbolt) was made by Radovan Kuchař in 1952. For a long time, everybody thought that no one is going to repeat the ascent. The second climber to climb the route was nobody else than the infamous Petr Prachtel in spring 1963 and on 29th June of the same year, he even repeated the route free-solo. (!)

So far we know about three ascents made by women. First one was made by Zorka Prachtelová in 1968. Her husband Peter Prachtel reminds: “She jammed herself into the crack as if it was a chimney and climbed the whole route smoothly without any hesitation. All the other climbers were shocked.” In 2018, Alena Bedrníková became a second woman to climb the route. She linked it together with the “Lower Variant” as well. Later that day, she sent another famous route “Overhanging route” VIIc/6a fr. on Ottovky towers. Third woman and the author of this article, Anča Šebestíková, climbed the route this year in April

It’s like déjà vu. During the six years since our first attempt, the village of Mazeri has hardly changed. The only thing that changed was a few hundred meters of new asphalt road. Again, we are welcomed by low cloud cover and a heavy portion of precipitation, which slowly but surely keeps reducing the likelihood of our successful and safe ascent of the wall.

Slowly, we climb into the fog, and just outside the village, we meet a mountain rescuer on horseback, who is trying to break our already undermined morale: „Возвращайся. Условия не хорошие.“ We spend a while assessing our options. Should we try reaching the northern peak by the normal route? It’s a tricky snow ridge, at which Tom failed twice, Leon once, and various climbers from our club ten times in total. Moreover, we’ve only got three ice screws, two snow anchors and the conditions on Ushba Glacier keep getting worse year after year… It’s a dumb idea. After all, we decide to stick to our original plan – to climb the southern peak of Ushba by Gabriel Khergiani’s route (5B in Russian grading scale = several days of hacking and slashing through tough conditions).

The rain gets thicker, forcing us to bivouac in a shepherd’s shelter. With this delay, we reach the moraine under the south face the next day. The weather improves and so does our morale. The whole wall is plastered by a 30-centimeter layer of fresh snow but the forecast promises four to five days of relatively stable weather without much precipitation. Despite our enthusiasm, we decide to spend the next day resting and sunbathing, listening to the amazing performance of a local band The Avalanche, which drops one banger after another.

On the fourth day early in the morning, we’re finally leaving. We swiftly make our way through easy mixed climbing to the glacier and then wind between the crevasses straight under the wall. The path begins with a wide snow staircase followed by a more vertical wall onto a ramp. The rock is solid… as scattered Lego pieces but we expected that. We continue with a narrow rocky gutter that spits us out above a large snow plato.

We rappel a bit, climb through some relatively easy mixed parts and reach a blank water slide which sucks us up higher and higher. Around 1 p.m., we’re digging a tent platform. It went well, maybe too well. After all, we begin to feel the 1,200 altitude meters that we’ve climbed since the morning and the only thing to do now is to rest, enjoy the views and drink one tea after another. We crawl into the absurd Chinese tent and hope that the storm doesn’t come today.

In the morning, we start straight through the firn channel into the headwall, where we finally unpack our ropes. The first pitch brings us to the key corner. It’s leaning on one side, overhanging on the other and quite smooth — here and there, you can find a piton. This time, I’d rather be just a spectator and enjoy the views of somebody else fighting through the crux moves. After a few moments of hesitation and evaluating the blank wall above me, I arm myself with some iron and start. I freeclimb the first few meters and then I’m forced to start technical climbing. It’s easier than last time. There!’s no waterfall pouring straight onto my head, but it’s not a piece of cake either. As I continue up the crack, it slightly widens, so you can find some solid placements for the climbing axe in the last few meters. I make an anchor in a mess of old slings and pitons right in the spot, where we decided to back off last time.

“It looks easier further on. Let’s not waste time re-tying into the other ends of the rope,” the boys say, trying to weasel out of the leading. Well, what the hell… I lead on.

After a few meters, it’s clear it won’t get any easier. There’s nothing to hook on and certainly nothing to hold on to. Thanks to an old fixed sling in a stuck friend and the capillary elevation, I scramble a bit higher, step by step all the way across the loose rock (which finally comes down under Tom’s weight), a few meters of blank wall, and finally an anchor.

Leon, trying to spare his dislocating shoulder, performs a mental enema in the form of jumaring on one strand of 7,5‑millimeter rope. He didn’t cut it. Somehow, we manage to fight our way up through the third pitch but then I feel I had enough. I climb slowly, my legs tremble, my forearms are spastic, and I barely manage to clip the loose piton in the final moves of the pitch. A few mentally demanding moves in the slab and then an anchor. Hurray! We got over the crux and I can finally tie onto the end of the train and follow the guys leading the rest. The ridge is endless, there’s still quite some climbing and the weather keeps changing all the time. Clear, fog, pure shit — repeat.

We pass the golden plaque, and at sunset, we stand at the summit of South Ushba. Eureka! We shake hands, take some pictures for Playboy and hurry up down.

We hike down for a while, looking for anything that could serve us as a bivouac. “Look, over there a perfect platform!” We rappel down two pitches from the main ridge into the southern slope. “Oh, well, nothing…” we dig a snug three-person bench into the snow and secure ourselves using the ropes hanging from the last anchor. The weather calmed down. We’re almost asleep. (picture from bivouac)

At sunrise, we climb back to the ridge and rappel down into C1. Surprisingly enough, the headwall takes only 1 length of rope, however, just through the air. We reach our tent by evening and stay because it’s already too late to go all the way down. Tomorrow’s another day.

We get up quite early and rappel from the top of the water slide almost to the foot of the wall. The descent is for connoisseurs only. Following the lesson the mountain gave us last time, we had picked the best spots for our rappeling slings already during the ascent, which saves us a lot of time on our way down. As truly experienced climbers, we get repeatedly tangled into our ropes and spend the extra time trying to untangle them. As we go down, there’s, unfortunately, fewer anchors and less snow. The exposed bottom ramp turns out to be a system of washed-out slabs covered in loose scree. Every time we pull down a rope, it takes a down grapeshot of various-sized stones.

We play Sherlock Holmes searching for another rock or crack that could hold a piton, uncomfortably lengthening the time we are exposed to the shooting stones. We rather decide to ignore the tracks after a stone avalanche that crosses our descent route. After twelve hours of rappelling, we stand on the glacier. The snow’s gone, so we hurry up and leave this minefield. We arrive in BC completely exhausted. The descent from C1 took us more than twice the time of climbing to the same place. 

We’re happy. We’re happy that we’ve made our way back and what more, we don’t need to climb the mountain again.

It’s over. Finally.

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“Khergiani’s Route” to Ushba 4710 m.a.s.l. (5B Russian classification, ED, 3–4 days, climbing in headwall M5+ A2, couloirs 65°, elevation difference 1700 m, objectively dangerous due to falling stones. In 1937, the first ascent took five days.)

Martin “Lesko” Leskovjan, Tomáš “Tom” Horský and Petr “Leon” Novosad climbed the route in July 2019. Photo of the equipment.

“Hi, I’m looking for a girl who’s a bit loony – addicted to climbing (rope) and doesn’t mind going to a climbing gym four times a week and then sets off to Jura for a weekend.” (Dating ad from Czech climbing server called Lezec)

Well, I know some girls… they might not exactly fit the description, but…

I know a girl who fell in love with climbing when she was two years older than the number in the name of a famous route at the Panteon area (“E55” VIIb, 6a). She lost her husband, who was an intellectual, and her father, a great climber, died. She couldn’t get over the grief, so she decided to turn back to the genes she inherited. She went straight from being an intellectual to a climber. She’s now training in a climbing gym four times a week. As for the weekends, she would go anywhere – on the condition that it includes climbing. The grief has disappeared and everything has become new and beautiful. It turned out that she is quite gifted at crack climbing and who knows, maybe she’ll learn to place those knots as well.

I know a girl who was squeezed by a huge piece of rock while climbing. It shattered her ankle and she had to undergo several operations, none of which was entirely successful. Her foot has been crooked ever since and she cannot walk properly without special shoes. Despite that, she organized a girl-only expedition to China. She said that finding sponsors was much easier because it involved a disabled girl scaling a 6 000 meter mountain. She made it to the top.

Then the beginning of the semester came, and with the finals approaching, I had to forget about the wild sandstone adventures for a while. Time to grind some training routines in the climbing gym.

I know a girl who, when she was 80, climbed a rock at a symbolic cemetery under Ostrva mountain in the High Tatras, just to place flowers next to the plaque of her beloved. The chief of the Slovakian climber’s club (JAMES) couldn’t bear watching her climbing the slick wet rock and muttered something about “reckless pubescent”. Now, she’s three years older and wonders if it’s not too embarrassing for her to go to a climbing gym. Her grandson wants her to take him there.

And when I think about it… some years ago, a 17-year-old lunatic girl decided not to take a cable car to Lomnický Štít mountain and forced her friend to walk with her. Her friend swore she would never do it again while the girl decided to become a climber and enrolled in a climbing club – not to get married to one of those guys but to climb like they do. She wanted to have children as well, so she parked the prams by old brick walls, and traversed back and forth to train her fingers. She did that especially during winter in order to build some strength for the summer season. Sometimes, she thought she was the only lunatic out there.

But she hasn’t been. There’s plenty of us – the lunatic girls who love climbing have always been and will be here!

Once you start climbing, it’s for life.

Three years ago, when Sean first walked into a pub in Adršpach, people immediatelystarted to whisper: “Hey, that must be the big-wall legend! Or not? And what is he doing here alone?”

Waitress Anička went ahead and started chatting with him. He complained that he had joined some dubious climbers, who shocked him a bit. He said they were drinking even during belaying, and the routes they climbed with ropes looked more like soloing. Anička realized that he must be looking for more trustworthy climbing partners as told us: “You’re climbing with Sean tomorrow!” So, we agreed – it was that simple. Although the morning was damp and foggy, we went to Teplice and in the afternoon tried “Bod zlomu” (Xc / 7c+ fr.). I was surprised how far he got during his on-sight attempt. It was inspiring to watch him climb. I was almost sure he would send it at the second try. (And that’s exactly what happened a week later.)

Two years later, Sean wrote to me that he was going back to Adršpach. It wasn’t the best timing for me, though, because was supposed to stay at work. So I tried to get as many people as possible to show him the best routes. Eventually, I managed to arrive in Adršpach at the same time as him and we climbed together – one week full of amazing routes and only one rest day.

Which routes did we choose? You know Adršpach – it’s a huge maze of rock towers. At first glance, all the routes look impossibly difficult. That’s why it’s so hard to choose one to climb. You can be sure that each of the routes you choose will scare the hell out of you.

After all, we set off for the Himalayas area, which is one of the central sectors in Adršpach. I had no idea where exactly we were going. So I made a list of routes that I like and that I haven’t climbed or finished yet. Another condition for choosing the routes was clear – to stay as far away from the trail packed with tourists as possible. We didn’t spend much time planning. Sean is so flexible and enthusiastic about climbing that it’s hard to find a route he wouldn’t like.

For the first two days, Sean’s friend Johan, who is a cameraman, joined us. He shot some footage from “Rohová” route (VI, 4c fr.) on Annapurna tower. I chose this route because of the tricky part, where you have to use the famous man-tower technique. The main reason why we chose this tower, was the route “Prckova porucha” (IXa, 6c+ fr.). Sean managed to lead that one, but I’d say he had to fight a bit… Then Matěj Svojtka showed up and told us he knows some good routes nearby. We went to the Jelení rokle (Deer gorge). This is one of the areas with many new routes. For example, there’s an amazing route “A jde se na pivko” (“Let’s go for a beer” Xc, 7c+ fr.). Isn’t that a poetic name? Before Matěj and Sean climbed it, we did two more new routes: “Fenkám” and “Hovado z lesa” (IXb, 7a fr.) – you’ll see those in Johan’s short film as well. Then the guys made the first and second free ascent “A jde se na pivko” – for now, it must be one of the hardest lines in the sector.

The next day, we stumbled upon an interesting off-width crack. I had noticed the route one rainy day when I was taking a stroll in the rock city. Surprisingly enough, it became the challenge of the day. You’ll see that in the video. Can you imagine that the classic trad climbers made the first ascent of this route in their 60s? We have a lot to learn from them.

Later we climbed paths like “Memento Mori” (VIIIa, 6b fr.), “Mrtvička”, “Lvíčata” (VIIIa, 6b fr.), “Vabank”, “Smrtonoška lahodná” (IXa, 6c+ fr.), “Bílý mustang”, “Bludný kořen” and “Pražský výběr”. Then we joined Smolo and made a first ascent together – the route is on the Střelci tower and Sean named it “Robin Hood” – it still waits for the first RP climb.

I can’t tell you which of those routes Sean liked the most. He seemed thrilled with every single one, but I felt that those bizarre and challenging routes were challenging Sean’s psyche. One of those was the bold off-width crack “Olověný hřebík” (IXa, 6c+ fr.) which you’ll see in the short film as well. Another bizarre route we climbed was “Obstarožný strašák” – a loose, crumbling, overhanging crack with a nightmarish off-width just below its top. After you climb this route, you have send a few well protected sport routes to start liking climbing again.

One morning, we went climbing with my friend. He woke up, rolled a fat spliff, smoked it all by himself, and went straight to warm up in Xb‑c route (7c/7c+ fr.). I was wondering what Sean thought about all that. He told me: “You crazy Czechs and your warm-ups…” We did have a lot of fun that day. We got our asses properly kicked by a grade V (4b fr.) off-width – I started off solo but the guys had to throw me a rope and Sean decided to back off that nightmare as well. Finally, we sent the route “V hašišovém rytmu” (Xa, 7b+ fr.) – Sean climbed it flash as if it were a mere stroll.

Sean’s visit to Adršpach was nearing its end. I’d say we’ve managed to show him a lot of fresh routes and just a few of the real old classics. On of the guys had a great idea told us to try “Přízemní komplikace” (VIIIa, 6a+ fr.). While climbing the route, Sean shouted at us: “That’s just beautiful! It makes me wanna cry. Hey, guys, do you think I’m allowed to cry here?” And that’s when I realized how lucky we are that we have such an amazing place – Adršpach.

Since I got to know him during his visit, I see Sean as a calm, humble and patient guy with an immense passion for climbing, music, and a great sense of humor.

This short article follows our big interview:
Sean Villanueva. When You Feel Motivation Deep in Your Chest

“You smell like sandstone crack,” said my friend’s wife to him, when he returned from yet another weekend of climbing. It seems like ordinary five words, but in every sandstone climber, such a remark raises countless emotions, memories of experiences, and adventures. I know the smell very well. I have been climbing in the “Bermuda Triangle” of Adršpach-Teplice-Křížák for six years now. In this area, I have gone through all my climber’s milestones – the very first rock climbing experience, the first-time leading, the first big fall, grappling with huge fear, and immense euphoria of reaching the top of a rock spire, which overtook all my life for the two following days.

Usually, you have to leave the area just as you are getting used to the specifics of the local climbing style. This time, however, it was different. Five days of pure sandstone porn. It’s unbelievable but Adršpach was perhaps the only dry place in the Czech Republic at that time – a good starting point. Well, except Kalírna pub – that place never dries out. A pub where grazed and ragged crack climbers share the same table with slick sport climbers creates a unique atmosphere – a true refuge from all the everyday problems.

Anyway, time to get back to the rocks now. Five days – I could finally climb the routes I had been afraid of until then. I started with a tasty OS climb of “Dařbuján a Pandrhola” VIIIa (6a+ fr.) on Vřesová tower at Křížový Hřeben area. My climbing partner Marťas felt strong and tried “Kapitán Kořala” IXc (7a+ fr.) right next to it – we managed to go through moves in the first half of it. Then we have finally finished our project on “Skalácká Pětka” RP IXa (6c fr.) on Větrná tower.

The highlight of the whole trip should have been “Hrana Kalamárky” VIIIb (6b fr.), a magnificent airy arete, which Maťas had been eyeing for quite some time. After all, he said that a rain shower forced him to postpone this one but, to be honest… that edge commands respect. Then we cheered up while climbing “Stroboskop” VIIIc (6b+ fr.), which is an impressive 55m line leading through Martinské walls. When I found myself at the top, I realized that this must be another milestone in my amateur sandstone career.

The majestic Dragon Tooth (Dračí zub) is one of the most famous rock towers in Skalak, Czech Paradise. Among the routes leading to the top of this spire is “The Secret Route” (“Tajná cesta”). Such a mysterious and poetic name of the route is quite tempting. It was first climbed almost a century ago by Josef Baudyš, Václav Náhlovský, and Karel Čabelka, and the grade is as low as III (3 fr., III UIAA). We’ve heard the warnings but decided to ignore them as mere superstitions. Follow us on our voyage through the darkness of this humbling route.

Our little expedition consists of three members – my girlfriend Míša, my good friend Matouš, and myself. Matouš leads the first pitch, which starts with an off-width crack, without breaking a sweat. Nothing unusual so far. Now, we should climb into a very narrow inner chimney, which leads all the way to the top.

And that’s when the real fun starts. We find ourselves in a small cave wondering how to get up there. It’s dark in here and all we can see is quite an uninviting off-width. We just probably lack some imagination to see where the route leads. It’s time to realize that the rumors might have been right. The only way up starts with several risky moves in a narrowing chimney and disappears up in the dark.

It doesn’t look particularly inviting, but I tie in anyway, trying to calm myself with the fact that it’s only a grade three. It eventually has to get easier! I manage to stuff my body into the hole – when I try to breathe, the sharp grains grate my skin, and I cannot even see what comes next because I jammed my head into the crack sideways. My stomach churns but I decide to continue anyway. The higher, the worse – I start to fight for every single millimeter.

As the chimney gets even tighter, I realize I have no other chance… Somehow, I manage to take off my harness and tie it to my ankle – it hangs below me as I continue snaking my way up. Finally, something that makes me smile – I find a brand-new climbing shoe! I’m still afraid that I’m going to die here in a very slow and terrible way, rotting like a cavity in this rock tooth. I suddenly appreciate all the airy routes, that made me scared of falling.

The Light! I feel like a mole that just crawled out of its hole. Or like a child being born. I even find a ring! Now the tricky part – getting back to your harness 20 meters off the ground is not so funny, but somehow, I manage.

A few moves later, I appreciate the safety of the harness, as my chest gets stuck in the chimney once again and I barely manage to squeeze myself through. I don’t even tie the sling around the hourglass under the top of the tower – I just focus on not getting sick on the climbers below.

I’m alive! I’m alive, and I don’t have to climb this horrible route ever again!

Now it’s Míša’s time to enjoy the route – I’ve never heard her screaming and yelling like that before, even though we’ve been through a lot together. She eventually gives up and manages to get back to the first ring. Matouš seems to be having just as much fun as I did, going through the whole harness episode. He made it! We shake hands, swearing that since this very moment we’re not going to climb any route easier than grade six. On our way down, we pick up Míša, who’s been waiting for salvation at the first ring.

Sure, I would recommend the route… as an ideal training to all the spelunkers, as a delight to all the masochists, and as a shock therapy to all the people with claustrophobia.

You’ve probably heard this line before: “Yeah, that’s a nice one. Go for it. I’m sure you’ll like it. There might be some runouts but nothing insidious. You can always find some holds and place slings as well.”  That’s the sort of advice my climbing teacher, Jarmila, gave me about the infamous “Parrot Crack” (Papouščí spára, VIIc, “6a fr.”) at the Parrot tower in Adršpach.

She went on: “People think that this “Parrot Crack” by Richter is hard… but that’s just a myth. In fact, it’s just another classic Adršpach route, nothing special. I remember climbing it in 1978 with my friend Zdena. We took some old work gloves and wrapped our wrists in duct tape. I lead the first pitch – it’s quite a trek. I tried to place some knots into the corner crack but failed. Then, somebody shouted from below: “Don’t bother with it and just climb on.” Hmm… so I did, and a few moments later, there I was clipping the first ring. Zdena then climbed the final slab without any problems.”

This year, I got quite confident about my climbing skills. I’ve sent some pretty interesting routes, some of which Jarmila hasn’t ever tried. To name one – the famous “Whiplash” VIIIb, “6b fr”. (See eMontana video). After talking to Jarmila, I decided to go check the “Parrot.” “It’s a mere VIIc and I am already a big sandstone climber,” I thought. The season was nearing its end and I already climbed some nice cracks that summer. Yes… my sling placing skills are miserable and I seldom trust the knots I place, but Jarmila told me that she didn’t place any into the crack anyway, so why bother… And the UFOs? Forget about that. Jarmila did it without those, and so can I!

I scrutinize the route… it looks pretty good, but wait… where’s the ring? Oh… there it is. At least twenty, maybe twenty-five meters off the ground and just beneath it, there’s a small overhang with a sort of a cave. It doesn’t look too hard but there seems to be quite a scary no-escape zone. I inspect the crack for five minutes and imagine desperately trying to clip in the ring too soon… my heart is thumping. Not today. Honestly, I don’t feel good about that route. I’m not gonna climb it!

Then the beginning of the semester came, and with the finals approaching, I had to forget about the wild sandstone adventures for a while. Time to grind some training routines in the climbing gym.

The night before the exam, I couldn’t sleep. I had a pretty weird dream, in which I was frustrated that I haven’t sent the “Parrot Crack” yet, so I decided to try it. I took my UFOs with me and I started climbing. I was freaking out, but I finally managed to place both of those UFOs just under the scary overhang. I clipped the ring without any issues. It even felt quite easy. Suddenly I felt so bitter and ashamed. I woke up. For 50th time that night. This route just doesn’t let me sleep properly! I guess I’ll have to try it next year. I can feel adrenaline rush just thinking about it. Psychosomatics in practice…

It’s funny. Two girls climb “Parrot Crack” some thirty years ago and this egoist guy, who thinks he trained enough in the gym, cannot sleep for the whole winter. Will I finally get some sleep next summer? Let’s see. Maybe the faith that all is going to turn out well, will get me to the top once again, and remind me why I climb rocks anyway.