12. Dezember | 2020

Makatea the movie!

 

I dream a lot. Almost every morning I wake up and remember, for a moment, dreams from the night before. Some say it’s a way for the subconscious to process. Maybe I don’t have enough down time to do it any differently.

I had dreams my first days in Makatea, then they disappeared. I guess, there, I was living the dream.

Climbing, like many outdoor pursuits, brings you to places you couldn’t imagine existed.

Makatea is one of those. A tiny island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, it’s a mere 6 km by 4 km and part of the French Polynesia.

The atoll is shaped for climbing with 80 m high cliffs on the perimeter of the island. The only way to get there is by boat, a day of sailing from Tahiti when the sea is fair, or longer and wilder when it’s not (which is what we got).

In the 1960s, some 3,000 people lived on the island, working in a mine. The island was rich in phosphate and for many years, money was flowing from the natural resource.

Then, the mining came to an end and work moved on. The mines, the houses, the shops, the trail system, the port… all since abandoned to rust and decay.

The 80 people still living on the island are marked by its history, but nature has since taken over, and the jungle hides most of the mining structures. It covers many things, except the damage done to the island’s people.

Our mission was to bring climbing, caving, and other outdoor activities to the island to help build eco-tourism as a viable resource. We’d brought together a good crew and were working closely with the mayor’s son, Hai Tapu, who is himself a climber. Years ago, he’d recognized his islands’ potential, but in Polynesia, everything moves slowly. Now he had 10 of us to help for an entire month, equipped with our drill machines and a few hundred bolts.

In the month before I left, I had doubts. What if the project failed? What if the climbing was dull? What if nothing happened aside from watching a few old fishermen fish? At some point I simply had to trust the experience.

I’d pictured our crew arriving on this remote island, living from what mother nature had to offer and camping in the total wilderness. But the 80 or so people are connected to the rest of the world in their own way. Despite the rich soil (there are coconut trees everywhere), only a few people grow things. Once per month, a ferry arrives from Tahiti to deliver food. Modern houses and a school make up the community.

We began the project next to the harbor. We camped at night and ate coconuts around the clock.

The sea cliffs here offered an excellent playground. We opened two new sectors on rock similar to what you find on Kalymnos or Turkey. We bolted in the morning until noon, then the sun hit the cliff. After a short nap, we explored the island’s incredible nature. The first obvious thing to do was go snorkelling. Among the pristine coral reefs, we swam with what seemed like billions of fish, a few turtles, and many curious sharks.

The sea is a big part of Makateas’ culture and daily life. We saw their top spear fishermen in action. The harbor is big gathering zone for the community and playing with the children helped us get to know them better.

After 10 days, we moved camp to the other side of the island. Here, the wind and storms hit straight-on which makes the place so wild and beautiful. The rock is also different. We found 40 m pure blank walls, with perfect pockets and cracks. Above the sea, we equipped routes on steep and perfectly shaped rock—quality far above what we could have ever expected.

Given the abundance of birds living in these cliffs, we payed careful attention when choosing the cliffs that we wanted to bolt, to ensure they weren’t near any nests.

In addition to opening new routes, we developed a school program with the kids. We taught them about global water scarcity, resource conservation and caring for our planet. Every day, a new climber would bring his or her thoughts to the conversation. On my day, we planted three mango trees and created a play, which the kids showcased at the end of the month.

The cherry on top of this crazy month was the event at the end. Two hundred people arrived from neighbouring islands to experience all the outdoor activity the island had to offer. For four days, we guided groups through different climbing sites, and went caving. We tested the new via ferrata that others had installed and a new zipline. We gave tours of the old phosphate mines which look today like an enormous battlefield.

Every night, people played guitar and sang around the campfire. The entire village came out.

I was amazed to see the evolution from our first day to the last. Introducing something new to the island, even something deemed positive, had felt strange. But seeing all these joyous people celebrating the beauty of nature and sharing this great feeling of living something unique, made it all feel so right.

Back in Europe, I started dreaming again. Our busy daily life, with its information overload, its lights and noise, was too much for my brain to process. So my subconscious had to start working again. Sometimes I think Makatea was only a dream. I forget how the deep calm I had felt. But, like my dreams each morning, I try hard to remember.

 

Wogü

Wogü is a multipitch route located in my dear Rätikon. When my ex-partner, Cédric Lachat, asked me last winter if I would be interested in climbing that route with him, I was psyched to check it out.

Beat Kammerlander’s masterpiece Wogü has been free-climbed only 3 times: by Adam Ondra in 2008, Edu Marin in 2016 and Roland Hemetzberger in 2017. I liked the opportunity to have Cédric as a rope gun since Beat’s routes are famous for high exposure. Why not let him figure out the holds, and then join to play the climbing game with him.

We planned to make a movie, showing how we had evolved differently since splitting up back in 2014 and looking at where we each had ended up today. Despite our separation, we kept up a high complicity when it comes to big wall climbing.

 

But then COVID-19 arrived and I took the decision to spend the lockdown in France with my boyfriend and 4 other friends in a small mountain town. No climbing for a total of 6 weeks. Time for a new life experience, like so many people around the world (read more about it on the “confinement chronicles”). 
Wogü was getting nearer and I got swiftly back to project mode after such a long time enjoying life and drifting a bit.

Preparing a big climb is something I love to do. What I like the most is organising and setting up all the things we needed for the projects. Making climbing movies is one of my favourite things in life and that motivation helped me a lot to stick to the project of getting into that hard core 8c multipitch route. Because, full disclosure, my climbing level for a route like Wogü was miles away at that time. However, my doubts about the feasibility of the project because of my weak climbing shape were quickly washed away by the idea of supporting Cédric as much as I could and as well as managing the logistics of the film project.

 

Climbing level apart, I also had some doubts about spending so much of the Spring time with my ex during. The previous winter, when Cédric and I had decided to climb Wogü together, I was single. Little I did suspect that I would meet “that boy” shortly after and end up spending a few months of lockdown with him. Needless to say, my priorities changed quite a lot between the planning of Wogü and I felt some tensions before it all started, although I got full support from my boyfriend Jérémy.

Then the day arrived to get going and by the time Cédric and I were done climbing the very first pitch of Wogü, all my doubts had flown away. I felt again this deep complicity with him while being on the wall, this endless trust and support. It was simply great and way above my expectations.

That was certainly due to the fact that we were totally alone in the Rätikon, a place I love so much and I know so well. The energy up there is magical, powerful and everything is simply pretty. Every time I’m there, touching this pure limestone I feel at home. The film crew was top notch, everyone on the wall was an expert and had confidence in the gear and the ropes we set up. We also had a clear storyboard for the film. Cédric was his usual climbing-machine and guided us through all these hard pitches. Since I had almost zero expectations on my climbing level, I was simply satisfied with every movement I could manage and with little expectation usually comes greater enjoyment.

I had no pressure and so much energy to put into the project overall. The more we spent time on the wall, the fitter I got and the more I could fully express myself in the climbing, which was good for our synergy on the wall. Despite the enormous level difference between Cédric and I, I could figure out tricky sequences which helped both of us and guided Cédric to his very clear goal of making a ground up ascent. He fell twice though, trying a ground up, at the third pitch, a very bouldery 8c.

Time passed, we got more and more dialled in and confident and learned to be more strategic. I freed some pitches here and there, while Cédric got closer and closer to freeing the entire piece. But then I somehow started to feel strange one day, while trying to free pitch 7, another 8c.

I’ve struggled for the last year with my menstrual cycle, and recently it had become more and more of an issue. On this day, a problem with my contraceptive device caused a huge amount of bleeding, pain, and fatigue. My energy level dropped significantly, but I really wanted to support Cédric as he was so close to send.

 

Three days later, it finally what happened. He started climbing at 5pm, machine mode full on. I belayed, jumared, managed the logistics so he could just focus on climbing and performing. On a little ledge, just before the final hard 8c pitch I almost passed out, but the big drive of Cédric and his perfect climbing was reason enough to support him until the summit. I was so impressed by his performance, zero mistake, perfect execution. It was very beautiful to watch and my physical problems apart, it’s one of the most incredible moments him and I have shared. Climbing ground up without a single fall has been by far one of the biggest performances of Cédric.

Nina Caprez & Cédric Lachat at the end of WoGü

Nina Caprez & Cédric Lachat at the end of WoGü

 

Needless to say, after that he and I for different reasons, were simply destroyed. We still had to work on the wall for another couple days to complete the filming project. Those days felt like very hard work for both of us, but we had to finish the job.

Nina Caprez – Marc Daviet – Cédric Lachat

Happy and relieved, we completed the project and had a huge fondue party at the hut with the whole crew.

It took me over a month to recover and now looking back, I realize many things. It has been the first time where I clearly experienced the differences between male and female climber. I can see how rich and complex it is to be a women and also how complicated and painful it can be. But as always, I trust life. There was a reason why it all happened and it really helps me to accept.

Yes, things changed in my life, I have other priorities now. Which doesn’t mean that I won’t stick to climbing, at all! Also, it has been the first time in my career that I fully supported someone and that I was able to take a step back while being more giving and compationate with myself and others around me. I don’t know if I have to go back to Wogü. I don’t need to know the answer to be honest. I just listen and see where it will all take me…

 

I felt so lucky to work with so amazing people on that project and I would love so say thank you to:

Cédric Lachat, my climbing partner who saved my life many times

 

Mathieu Rivoire, for being the most creative and funnies director ever

Guillaume Broust, Marc Daviet, Julien Christ and Leonard Bernard for the super efficient filming and taking pictures on the wall

Jérémy Bernard for the great support and drone shots

Mama and Bea for being the best Parduzerhütten “chefs”

And everyone being involved and helping out!

 

“Merci la vie” Topo

Description
 
Expressen: Quickdraws
Schlingen: Slings
Roter Schlaghaken: Red piton
BH: Bolts
DPB: Deep blue sea
Bis zum Gipfel: Until the summit
Stand auf einem Pfeifenkopf oder Schultersicherung:
Belay on top of a mushroom or belaying on your shoulders 

“Hey Nina, don’t be afraid…”

We all have a different past. We evolved in different ways influenced by our environment and shaped by it.

Obviously, I have dedicated many hours of my life to climbing, and it is a fixed part of my life. It has been an education, self-directed, focused on my body, my mind, and how I interact with my environment. As I have dedicated so much time becoming really good at this one thing, I am finding these days that there are certainly areas of life-education that I need to catch up on.

 

One of them is learning how to interact with humans. Tough one. I can imagine that during this period of confinement we are all learning more about relationships.  We have all been cut off from our favorite activities. Our freedom to move around, to go out, even close to home, is not the same as before. And many of us live with other people. All the time. The same people. Very close to us. All the time.

 

I have to admit I have never lived in these circumstances before. Because I have built my life around my climbing, I have kept my home life small and light to allow for nearly constant travelling. I have been following the changing seasons and my changing inspirations, always doing basically whatever I wanted to do with no one else to answer to. I have never found one place where I wanted to stay and to accept the local rhythm all year long. And I have never had a serious desire to start a family or to settle down. Excitement and adventure have been my engine and this life has always fulfilled me. I have had beautiful partnerships over these years, but the relationship has always had to adapt to this way of living that I love.

 

Staying in one place, with one person, facing a routine, dealing with human emotions and staying committed to a situation even if it costs me time and energy that I would rather spend on climbing and adventures, is a thing I have avoided all my life. The option to escape has always been there, and as climbing is also my work it has been easy to justify leaving.  When tough emotions came up, I took off dancing up a wall. Climbing seemed to be my problem solver, I could get some distance from hard emotional things, and make decisions with a clear head.

 

 

Now we are confined. Wow, what a game changer! What an opportunity for me to learn to face things I never faced before: Staying in one place as the seasons change, community thinking and living, no climbing or hikes in the mountains, no walls to climb on, no fans to feed my ego.

 

About 6 months ago I started feeling things I had never felt before. Somehow a whispering voice has been there, but I had a hard time listening to it because my life as a professional climber was so full. There has been no empty space, no room, no calm period where I could sit still and listen to this whisper.

 

And then, well, confinement time arrived somehow at the perfect moment in my life. Like I told you before, sometimes I miss dancing up a wall so much that I have to cry. On the other hand, this confinement has helped me see the deeper reasons why I climb today. Climbing is how I communicate with nature, with my environment. I love to touch rocks and play with shapes and body positions, get to know a piece of nature so intimately. I really love spending my time in nature or close to it. Even as I am not going rock climbing, every day I go outside. I’m fascinated by the beauty, the smells and colours of our backyard. I love to see new things growing as the snow is melting, and learn how to use different plants, flowers, and seeds as they appear. My life right now has zero adrenaline, zero “action”, zero “excitement”, and this is rather new.

 

 

To live together with 5 people in a small house for six weeks (so far) with zero climbing is so new to me.  I have the impression I am catching up on many lessons that I have missed in my life.

 

Honestly, I have never felt so calm before, and my mind is very clear (even without climbing). The option of running away as soon as a relationship becomes complicated does not exist. So I slowly start to develop other skills. Whereas I may typically think in terms of “me” and “my projects” first, I accept that “me” is not really relevant. Now it’s about “us.”

 

 

 

I imagine that so many of you are going through similar experiences as I am right now. Even though not everyone has my same lifestyle, we always seem to find ways to escape. Our work, sports, other obsessions, keep us busy and let us avoid the natural challenges of human relationships. Now we’re stuck at home. Some of us with more freedom because they have a garden or live somewhere more remote. Others are in tiny apartments in the city. Some become violent, some creative. Some are anxious, some are calm.

 

No matter how your personal situation looks, I invite you to see this as a big opportunity to face yourself, to be kind with yourself and the people you’re living with. This isolation can lead us back to essentials, to see what really matters to us. I’m confident that with the right attitude, we will all grow in a beautiful way.

Motivation and its consequences, reflecting on the last year

Last night we had an amazing dance party in our little house in the mountains. All six of us dressed up, we made dinner and spent a good while sitting and eating and chatting. Then we turned on the sound system and had a proper late night dance party for Eline’s 22nd birthday. It’s amazing to see how different my life looks like since the confinement has started. I rest a lot. Once a day I have a Pilate session with my friend Ann from California. Some days I go for a run or just a simple walk. Sometimes it happens that I do some pull ups (imagine!).

 
Mostly, though, I just enjoy chatting with the friends I live with, or calling other friends and family on FaceTime. I read more than usual. I work on my French, my English, and my singing. I play Scrabble for hours and hours.

 

I have this feeling that there will be a “before” and “after” COVID-19 era. I can’t imagine that the world is simply on standby right now and that after a couple of weeks we will go back to the old reality.

 

To be truly honest with you, and I told you this already in my recent post, the confinement has arrived at a perfect moment in my life. I’ve been struggling over the last few years with certain things that I might rather not face. Now I have the space to think about them.

 

The world has been moving fast and I haven’t been able to resist its rhythm. I found myself running after every task, restless. I could feel myself becoming frustrated and yet I didn’t know why. I see now that it was related to the way I was doing things, always pushing to do all of the things. I can imagine that during this confinement, some of you are realizing the same.

 

Up until the confinement no matter what I was doing, I was thinking always about the next step.

 

Also, I’m in my mid-thirties now and my needs have been changing. I’ve ignored them because my desire to climb hard has always been my top priority. I’ve climbed and pushed myself hard this way since I was 17. I love hard work and giving my best. It has always made me feel satisfied and content.

 

Since the beginning of 2019, my mind has been consumed by the idea of free climbing The Nose. If you know me just a little bit, you know that the routes I love most are those which are not so famous. I am drawn to routes that are in radical, remote places, new routes, or rarely-repeated, hard old-school classics. Even if I am not physically the strongest climber, I can always rely on my strong mind set to do incredible things.

 

The Nose is not my style of project, as it is possibly the most famous (and crowded) route in the world. But once I start something I simply can’t stop until I have given it my very very best effort. This is how The Nose became my unlikely obsession. In 2019, I trained almost all year. All my thoughts and intentions were dedicated to this iconic route situated in the Yosemite Valley. I slept with the topo over my bed, and Lynn’s “It Goes Boys” quote pasted on my door.

 

I pushed myself so hard in training, even though I could tell that my body was getting tired and that my heart was not always in it. Never before in my life had I trained for so long (a full year!) for one single route. When I left Switzerland for California in October, 2019, I knew that I was in the best shape of my life, physically. But at the same time I had never felt so fragile in my mind. Somehow the opposite of “Nina style.”

 

As soon as I arrived in Los Angeles I had a total meltdown. You can read all about it here in my Nose blog. But trust me, it was rough.

 

I somehow managed to get my shit together and perform on the Nose like I never had before. At the end, it was not enough and I failed. Failed, yes. Normally I believe that in climbing, there is no failure as long as you tried your absolute best. Plenty of times in my life I have tried a route and not sent. Like for example in 2018 with Melissa in Madagascar. We clearly did not send the route we had come for (Tough Enough), but hell, we climbed our asses off and the trip was a huge success, chain or no chain.

 

But this time, on The Nose, I felt failure. It has taken some time and reflection, but now I think I know why. My motivation was not from my heart. I climbed the route to satisfy my ego, to prove something to myself and to others. And that’s exactly why I felt failure. I hate to sound so negative. I learned so much from working that route. I grew in so many ways as a climber and I think as a person. But failing to send felt different this time.

 

On top of that, I fucked up my health, before and during the trip. Since returning to Europe, my recovery has been slow. It took me a couple of months to get rid of my toe fungus and my feet are not the same anymore, they hurt a lot. I lost weight during The Nose project, and now my body is taking back what it needs.

 

This confinement is a really good opportunity to listen to my body in a different way. It’s not the first time that my body has tried to tell me these things, but it may be the first time I listen. The big challenge to me now is to settle into myself, and to trust in life. I try not to analyse or to judge, and I simply observe.

 

I cry sometimes because I miss climbing so much. At the same time, I feel like my body is enjoying this break. It is incredible to see how much time climbing takes up in my normal life. I give so many hours to my passion, and I don’t regret a moment of it. I am taking this opportunity to catch up with my other interests, do mental exercises, and enjoy time. However long we are in confinement, there is no doubt that I’m going to climb all my life long.

 

I can see how challenging this situation is for all of us, and also how much we can learn from it. I truly believe that life will be different “after” the corona virus, and I’m very curious and excited to see in which direction we’re going to evolve.

About drugs and my fear of losing control

I grew up with a fear of drugs. My mother has smoked cigarettes since she was a teenager and she grew up in a family touched by alcoholism. So she raised her 3 kids, Cathrin, Arno and Nina surrounded by the fear that we could get addicted to drugs. She made us a deal: if we didn’t take up smoking before we turned 18, she would pay for a big trip. I made use of that money when I was 22 to go to Argentina, Tuzgle, one of my first climbing trips!

 

When I was a teenager I would sneak around and party with alcohol on the weekends, along with all of my friends. I never smoked cigarettes, though. I hated my mom’s smoking and wanted nothing to do with that. I also refused to smoke weed or to take any drugs.

 

Despite my weird relationship with drugs and my fears of addiction, I’ve always been addicted to sports, especially climbing. When people try to explain the effects of getting stoned, I see no difference from when I climb on rocks. Climbing in total flow changes my perceptions: my eyes are wide open, my pupils are huge even in the full sun, my breath is calm despite the physical effort, my muscles don’t know fatigue. I feel like I’ve become a magician, that I have super powers. Every gesture is natural, fluid and guides me to the summit.

 

Nina CAPREZ and Cédric LACHAT climb Orbayu, pitch 5, 8c – Naranjo de Builnes, Picos de Europa, Spain.

 

For almost 10 days we have been confined due to COVID-19 and to be truly honest with you, so far it has been one of the richest experience of my life. As a life-long climber and a bit of a rebel, it’s nice to just follow the rules for once. The government has put restrictions on us, severely limiting our movements and activities, to protect vulnerable people. It feels right to work together and to contribute, knowing that lots of people on the planet are going through the same.

 

The confinement makes room for new things, it brings us closer together, and crazy and stupid ideas are coming to life! For example, last night. I had the courage to open up myself imposed limits concerning drugs. I got stoned, for the very first time in my life. It went bad, I lived one of the worst moment of my life. I became very negative and dark, aggressive, mad, I completely lost my shit.

 

After a cold shower this morning and a cup of coffee, I realized that the choices that I made in the past were right. This state of flow I get into while climbing is very powerful in my life. I do not feel it when I do other activities, even those that require great concentration. No drug could replace that state of flow I am in while climbing.

 

My fear and resistance, even judgement, about drugs, has been with me since childhood, since my mother instilled in us the fear that she felt in her childhood. I am living now with people who do not have the same fears. I’ve listened without judgement, to learn about other people’s experiences, and it helps me to break down my fear. There is some wisdom in their approach, and I’m learning that it is ok to release control once in a while.
But honestly, I thank God that he has gifted me with climbing. In my point of view, it’s the best and healthiest addiction I could have.

The confinement chronicles

What could I learn from this, that I could not learn any other way?

 

 

It has been a while since my last writing. To be honest, I’m not really good at it. I can only write about a climbing adventure, a performance, or something extraordinary I did in my career. I’m having a hard time writing my emotions down, I’m afraid of showing something than my strong side. But the current circumstances are perfect for writing about deeper things. So I will try.

 

For the last 15 years, climbing has been my guideline in life. I have built my career, my income, and my relationships on my passion for climbing adventures. I have always climbed routes that I was psyched for and at some point, other people got inspired and supported me. I know what I want to do, what drives me, and I go for. Having a passion for something is such a gift!

 

I grew up doing all kinds of sports. When I got into ski touring and scrambling in the mountains at the age of 13, I found myself challenged every single day and I couldn’t get enough. By the age of 17 I was getting more and more into rock climbing, and I learned that how important it is to have a healthy body and strong mind to improve.

 

Since then I push my limits, I simply love it. My curiosity to see how far I can go is a real addiction. This curiosity has occupied every single hour of every day for the last 20 years. I live climbing, I dream climbing, I eat and drink climbing. It is always there. Because of this strong driving force, I have refused everything that could take me off route or slow me down. I calculated everything, not always consciously, but still. In my climbing, my movement on rock, I’m very freestyle, in the absolute flow. But the rest of my life I have kept a little bit tight.

 

For almost two years now, I can feel myself getting tired of hanging on so tight.  In 2018, I teamed up for the first time with Lynn Hill and that was a game changer for me.

We became partners, but more than that, she became a trusted friend. She somehow showed me that there is a way to be an athlete and a wonderful and generous person at the same time.

 

She has been very honest about her experiences and the choices she made in her life. The more time we spent together, especially hanging on a big wall, the more I opened up and  learned about life.

 

Today I’m 33 years old (the age of Christ!) and I think it’s time to let go of certain things and to make some room for other things to grow.

 

This opportunity to stay home here, without so much distraction, how can I use it to find my inner voice, my intuition. When I am climbing a route, moving on rock, my experience and intuition guides me to climb the rock as I find it. I know what the moves will be, I can guess what the next hold will feel like. How to I find that inner intelligence on the ground? In my relationships? To move through life without fear, freestyle, like I do when I climb?