Exactly a year ago, I climbed The Nose of El Capitan completely free – except for 4 meters of pitch 25, the infamous “Changing Corners.” Lynn and I ascended the first 24 pitches in three days and laid siege to the crux of the wall. After my ascent with her, I spent another six days on that single pitch with still no clue as to how to move in those pure and blank pieces of granite. I had to face something that had never happened before in my climbing career: I couldn’t figure out how to position my body.

So, I left Yosemite last November with a big question in my head.

Months passed and soon came the time to again begin the journey towards that big rock. As it approached, so did an enormous pressure and fear of failing.

Things did not start well. My subconscious took over and I had recurring nightmares. A big fungus decided to call my toenails home and I could not put on a climbing shoe. I cried a lot, called my mom every day and was close to flying back home. I wanted to be back with my friends and family and escape having to face my deepest fear of not being able to move in that nerve-wracking pitch again.

From the bottom of that pit, I called my “little sister” Eline whom I had climbed The Nose with the year before. She felt the enormous pressure I was under and gave me the right advice. “Nina, reconnect with this beautiful nature and be ‘folle,’ because that’s who you are and why you climb.”

I packed my stuff and hiked alone to the top of El Cap, one of the most beautiful places on Earth. I saluted buddy Half Dome, sat down on those sharp granite slabs, took a deep breath and started singing. And all of a sudden, I was overcome by the warm feeling you get when you do things right. My heart exulted and fear transformed into curiosity as I pictured myself trying to figure out that complex puzzle of ‘Changing Corners.’

I ran down to the valley floor to call Lynn and a few days later, we rappelled together the 200m from the top of El Cap into the Corners. Curiosity was also what brought Lynn back. She too wanted to see if she could climb her route again (and support me – and support she did!).

And so we started the second edition of the ‘Nose Lina-Nina’ game with joy and excitement. After five days of work, I finally learned how to position my body in that 4 meter short 14.a. On our last day at the top, we briefly climbed the last pitch to remember the moves. After three rest days down in the valley, we went for the ground up go.

Climbing never felt so fluid and easy. We danced up the wall, me at the sharp end of the pitches and Lynn fully enjoying herself following my lead. I hauled the bags while belaying her and we slowly made our way up to the Great Roof in two days. Underneath the roof at camp 4, we made a rest day and realized how hot the temperatures were at that time of year.

The next day, I climbed the Great Roof relatively easily on my second go after figuring out my beta from the previous year again.

Lynn dropped some tears watching me send it. This iconic pitch means a lot to her as she was the first person who freed it. We still had a long way to go that day, and so we moved camp and climbed towards camp 6 in the burning hot sun. Our feet swelled from climbing cracks in the heat and the “Glowering Spot,” another tricky 12.d pitch, was a real battle.

Totally exhausted, we arrived at camp 6 and decided to rest the following day. Rest days are actually the most fun wall days. You really can’t move, and the only things to do are to exchange stories about life with your partner, chat with other parties who pass, eat and drink and hide your body from the sun.

The next day, my excitement woke me early and I watched the Corners for about an hour until Lynn woke up. I climbed well that morning, but the sun hit the wall too early (or we were late…blame it on forgetting Daylight Saving Time…) so I only had one real good go. The temperatures were so hot that I started sweating, which is not ideal for such an intense friction climb.

We tried to rest under our little sun shelter for the remainder of the day and both started to feel how tired our bodies were after six days on the wall. The lack of fresh food and dirty conditions while camping on the wall is very tough on your body. With the fatigue and the drugs I was taking to manage the pain in my toes, my guts were finding it hardcore and I started to feel nauseous.

I knew I had one more day on the wall left in me and the time limit encouraged me to give it my very best.

After a short warm up round the next day, I made a new high point on the Corners. I came back down to camp 6 and rested for almost two hours. A little breeze came up and I started a new try. An inch away from the final jug, my right foot slipped and I fell.

Tears ran down my face. But they were not due to sadness, disappointment or something negative. Those tears were tears of joy and fatigue. I knew that I had done my very best and I was so proud to have faced the fears that had almost made me quit. For the first time ever, I felt victory without clipping a chain. The feeling I had right in the moment, and still now, is that those corners had something different to teach me.

The top out pitches felt so incredibly easy. It was so cool to climb on those easier pitches and to continue to enjoy every single meter of The Nose. When we both topped out, Lynn and I were both very calm. No big screams, no tears, no heartbreaking scene. Just the deep warm sensation that overcomes us when we know that we climbed with all our hearts.

This year’s ascent was a lot more focused on me, as Lynn wanted to celebrate the 25th anniversary of the free ascent last year. Lynn has been the best support and I think she was curious to see how I would solve this puzzle piece of the Corners. As far as her own climbing goes, it seems that the only thing she wanted to have this time was fun. Believe me – I have never had so many cramps in my stomach from all the laughing. Lynn is simply hilarious, doesn’t try to fit in and the only things she wants are to find joy, sing, dance and laugh.

Climbing felt like flying despite the effort we put in. It simply is the most natural thing to us. And, with this great flowing feeling we both had, it all went well. Teaming up with a climber 25 years older is a very unique thing, yet I think that our relationship is very balanced. Lynn teaches me a lot about life, simply with her unique campfire stories and her way of being. I, on the other hand, am her endless-energy rope gun, getting us up The Nose – gear and all.

Maybe it was the last time for us. Perhaps she will not need to go back anymore because she has learned what she needs. Curiosity brought us there and hopefully it will bring many other climbers as well, “place aux autres.” Where will curiosity bring us next?

The Nose experience is by far the best lesson that climbing has taught me so far. It has made it clear that I need to follow my curiosity. We will see where my curiosity leads…

For now, I simply enjoy this warm feeling I have in my gut: the beautiful sensation of feeling a little bit wiser because you profoundly understood a lesson that life had to teach you.

New route on the Eiger North Face by Roger Schäli, Sean Villanueva and Nina Caprez.

A day has 24 hours. I wish mine had 40 or more. I live my life fully and at times this can be exhausting. Thanks to my job, or maybe let’s call it “occupation”, I have the opportunity to travel all around the world, to meet many many people, encounter diverse cultures and see different places. As I’m also quite a sensitive person, I take in a lot and eventually need some “down time” to digest all those impressions. My days just don’t have enough time to experience things and then to assimilate them! And often, I feel like I’m watching a fiction movie of my own life full of climbing and other things.

Only two weeks ago I came back from an incredible adventure on a remote Pacific island. I was part of a beautiful community project on an island called Makatea, and which is perfectly shaped for climbing. My experience there was pretty intense and I haven’t yet found the necessary calm to reflect about those moments. That will come when days shorten a bit and summer allows.

So when I landed in Paris at the beginning of July, I drove directly to Chamonix for the Arc’teryx Alpine Academy event. Cham has a special place in my heart. The huge contrast between climbing high up in the mountains and the touristy lifestyle down in town is fantastic and also so hilarious!

I had no fixed plans after the event so I stayed in Chamonix. I had sort-of planned to calm down in order to digest the things I had experienced, but this isn’t easy when conditions are good and people are stoked to go play up in the mountains. So I skipped calm-down day and went straight to climb-day instead.

I teamed up very spontaneously with Belgian-French legend Sean Villanueva. We decided to climb the route “Voie Petit” on the Grand Capucin. We made that decision at 8pm, packed our bags immediately and the next day we went climbing on that route, located at near 4000 meters of elevation

We had packed our gear carefully, but forgot to print the topo. What wasn’t a big issue on our first day came back to spice things up later on. We swapped leads and climbed the first 5 pitches that day. Each of us had a good on-sight/flash try on the 8b crux pitch, but then it started snowing. We rappelled down to our cute little tent on the glacier in order to rest for a ground-up attempt the next day.

That night was windy and cold. We had a hard time sleeping and when we got up next morning, everything was frozen and the strong, Patagonia-like wind was still blowing. Despite these rough conditions, we started climbing and it felt great! Sean and I swapped leads again, I took one fall on the 8b, he did it first try that day and I sent right after.

As we had no more digital topo (my phone died on the first day) we started a real “no topo” on-sight attempt of the upper pitches, which required some searching. Both of us needed two tries for the next 7c+, then we climbed relatively quickly to pitch 10, another crux.

The higher we climbed, the worse and wilder the weather became. As Sean checked out this tricky 8a, I turned into an ice drop on the belay station. Honestly, I can’t remember the last time I felt so cold. He sent this pitch very quickly on his second go. It was supposed to be my turn but at this point I needed some big motivation to try. It was tough to climb with any pleasure in these freezing conditions. We sang a birthday song together for our friend Emilie and that warmed my heart. Covered in multiple layers I worked the moves, and shortly afterwards, my hands still warm, I gave it a try. I slipped and fell. I gave it another go and fell again. Beaten by the cold, the humidity, and by my tired body, I gave up.

I offered to belay Sean on his way to the top, but without topo he had a real hard time finding the line. He was forced to stop, only a 3 pitches before the top, on a pretty wet 7b+ slab.

I felt bad for him to miss out on completing the route, but at the same time I was so happy that we were finally starting our way down. We spent another night in the tent, grateful for shelter from the wind. The LYO food tasted delicious, as it always does. We dove into our welcoming sleeping bags. I took some aspirin and fell into a coma-like sleep after 13 hours of effort on the wall.

I have to admit that I felt pretty much destroyed for a couple of days afterwards.
People often ask me if I feel pain while climbing. I don’t know what to answer because we all have a different pain tolerance. When you decide to do something willingly, the suffering or the pain feels very different than when you find yourself in a situation you didn’t want to be in. I dedicate my life to climbing. It’s always my personal choice to be in those circumstances. I would never complain or blame someone if I can’t climb a route. Every time I’m out there, I’m learning so much about myself, about nature and the interaction between humans. Besides being my absolute favorite game, climbing provides the best school for life. So no, I don’t feel pain, even if my body hurts. Pain feels very different.

A week later, after some good times with family in Switzerland, I found myself walking towards Grand Capucin again, this time with my old friend and climbing legend Martina Cufar. I was supposed to finish the business on Grand Capucin with Sean, but he had the chance to climb “Divine Providence” instead and he didn’t want to miss that opportunity. (He had a successful ascent by the way, teaming up with alpinist Mathieu Maynadier). I felt very grateful to have found Martina, a more than ideal climbing partner. Martina is one of the most fanatic climbers I have ever met, but since she had her two kids, the number of full climbing days we have shared can be counted on just one hand. As I said, we need 40 hours at least!

We took the first gondola up to the Torino hut and hiked towards this pretty mountain under a perfect blue sky. Martina is exactly 10 years older than me and she has always been one of the people I respect the most for her beautiful attitude and her infectious “joie de vivre.”

My heart felt full of gratitude, joy and excitement when I touched the first holds, and these beautiful emotions stayed with me all the way to the top. I led all the pitches; it felt like flying. I lived the present to its fullest. We laughed a lot, smiled non-stop, focused on the climb and supported each other smartly as we always do when climbing together.

I sent all the lower pitches first go, including the 8b. But then I needed two tries for the 7c+ pitch as I forgot the tricky foothold sequences, and 6 tries for the next 7b+! (This boulder problem on the start required some solid nerves). Martina climbed like an angel, she was simply gorgeous to watch. I could see the fire in her eyes, her life-long climbing experience and, just as important, her huge dose of self-irony!

When we arrived at the 8a pitch it got really cold again and pictures from last week’s failure went through my mind. I somehow wanted to stop. I started to freeze and fatigue overcame me. But by simply watching Martina, who normally hates the cold, being happy and psyched, I was reminded that it had been my choice, and my choice only, to be up there. I looked at the pitch above and imagined myself putting in the gear and then giving it multiple tries until achieving the send. Yet, just imagining this felt so tiring, like too much. I wasn’t sure if I would have the energy.

Martina read my mind and in her thick Slovenian-French accent she said: “Well, it might be the best option if you send that pitch by putting in the gear.” We laughed and I started climbing with a totally free mind. No expectations, no good or bad case, no options, simply climbing in the present.

I surprised myself by sending that 8a in the most ideal style, that means, on my first try and putting in the gear. We continued then our way to the top. After a steep and short 6c, I put in one of the biggest Swiss-machine performances on the following 7b+ slab. I stood on my feet like I really know how to, despite my frozen toes. I also got a big cut on my index finger and blood ran continuously from my finger onto those micro holds. I knew that if I fell, I wouldn’t have another chance to try and so I climbed as if a fall would have resulted in death. Big screams of joy and somehow pain came out of my mouth while clipping the chain. The split on my finger was very deep and I climbed without my index finger along the last two easy pitches to the very top.

Martina sent all the pitches free in second except three. She showed me once again how effective, and inspiring, a great attitude can be.

I think that my body went through lots of suffering during those 12 hours of non-stop effort on the route. But it was my choice. Plus, all the positive feelings like joy and excitement, were ten times stronger than the pain.  Maybe this kind of feelings, help me stay connected to reality. Those feelings we all know. When we accept physical pain and choose to be grateful and experience each moment, it doesn’t confuse our brain. It’s simply how reality sometimes is. A balance between sacrifice and pain, joy of the moment and personal choices.

I feel so lucky that I have this big passion for climbing in my life. Again and again I have so much opportunity to travel and to meet new people. With so many new impressions and adventures, the experiences often appear unreal. Nevertheless, the feelings I get when I am climbing are always somehow familiar. Climbing helps me to stay connected. Wherever I am on the planet, whoever I am partnering with, when I touch the wall, I feel I am at home in my passion for climbing.

Thanks once again to Sean and Martina for the absolutely rad times we spent together out in the mountains. Thanks also to Arnaud Petit for this route and his vision for putting up new lines. These people are a big inspiration to me.

I had a pleasant time this spring climbing in one of my favorite places on earth: the Verdon gorge. 

This place has something very true to me; it somehow brings together certain types of people. Some are climbers, some are goat farmers, some are gypsies and some are just tourists visiting “la route des crêtes”.

Seeing those walls all over brings up much indecision and often you don’t know with which route to start! As I’ve been climbing regularly in the gorge over the last 10 years, I am finally slowly getting the feeling for choosing the right wall at the right moment.
Also, it’s always very refreshing to exchange some words with Bruno Clement. He’s the one who’s been putting bolts since pretty much ever. And he always has some new pearls to offer. Some of those recently opened climbs are close to the famous “Tom et je ris” (This one has two additional new pitches btw).

This wall has always been one of my favorites because it’s the most obvious and you can see it across the canyon when you stop at the first belvedere of Escales.

Together with my friend Ann Raber from California, we climbed two new routes of Graou on that wall. The first is called “je vous salue Barri” (5 pitches up to 7c, dihedral and jamming style), situated to the very left of the wall. And the other one called “Panetonne je ris” (7c+, 8a+, 7a+) is an outstanding tufa line 200m to the right of Tom et je ris. Both of the routes are going to be published in the next edition of the Verdon guidebook. Stay tuned!

Besides new lines, Verdon has hundreds of old routes to offer! I took advantage of the colder spring temps and climbed some classics on Escales like “Séance tenante” a single pitch 8a from 1987 or “prise de cent”, a fantastic 7a+ multipitch on water drops.
I also spent some days cragging at “Hulkosaure” and “Teillon”, both very impressive walls offering a complete different type of climbing. 

As so often when I live climbing at its most sincere and simple state, routes are calling me. And so did Mingus. It’s a funny story: One night at the “La Palud gypsy camp” I ran into my ex boyfriend Benoit and his partner Leo. They climbed Mingus together two days before in a mix style of free- and aid-climbing. As I know Benoit really well, I could tell that this route meant something to him and as they both talked about that historic route with their eyes bright as the sun, a big excitement overcame me. 
And so I started to have look up Mingus in the guidebook and it’s true, it’s the only route that has an entire page by itself and the introduction has a little eye catcher with my climbing partner Lynn Hill saying:

I got very excited about the idea of free climbing this route and so I talked to Graou about it while eating some mushrooms and showering at this place. He recommended re-bolting the route first in order to stay alive and so I did. Ann, my partner, was in without hesitation and equipped with Graou’s power-drill and some bolts we found in la Palud, we started our mission the day after.

Rebolting such a historical route is a delicate affair. To be honest, I did not ask all the climbers whether they agreed or disagreed, I simply went for it after checking with Graou, Greg and Pascal, people who live and bolt a lot in La Palud. It has been very important to do my best doing a good job and preserving the spirit of the route. My simple goal from the beginning was to make the route safe by adding a 10mm bolt at each belay station and by replacing one to three bolt per pitch where the chance to falling and breaking one of those very old and rusty bolts is high, especially where such a fall could have a bad ending. All the pitons look very good and overall, that 300 meter long itinerary has a logical sense. There is only one confusing spot at pitch 8 where another route crosses into and where obviously, a belay station has been missing in Mingus. 

It took us three days, starting from the top and working on four pitches per day. I first fixed a static rope and drilled the anchor. Then I rappelled down, climbed the route top rope and replaced the most obvious bolts. Ann’s job was taking out the old bolts I replaced and offering a hand whenever needed. Then we both climbed the pitches we’ve been working on ground up. It’s always something different when you climb at the sharp end and it allowes me to see if we took the right decisions. The exchange with Ann has been essentially and I think that we did a good job. I’m very glad that we made it work because it has been so much fun!

Once we did the job, we took out all our heard gear. The next day, Ann had to leave. I was lucky to find a partner who was willing to try the route ground up with me.
After a rainy restday, Sam and I left early in order to have plenty of time to climb Mingus. I had no expectations that day, my simple goal was to have fun and to see if Ann and I did a good job rebolting. But once I freeclimbed the first two pitches, this pleasant game of “sending”overcame me and so the button of determination turned on!

I sent the 8a on my second go (luckily because it’s a real skin killer), but the rest went well on my first go. Some of the pitches I knew well, others less and allover I had a good portion of luck!

Gypsy friend Gio joined us from the top and took some pictures while Sam and I climbed on the last pitches. What a rewarding sensation freeing this historical route with all the support of those adorable humans. Verdon reunites and connects a certain type of people and I feel very honored to be part of that special community.

So now I hope that you will get excited from this blog post and that Mingus will see many attempts in the future. It’s totally worth the trip and the fight! Hats down once more to Lynn Hill, who climbed the route on sight in 1994. 

A huge thanks to Ann Raber who climbed with me almost all spring and who was such a great support all long. Nowhere more than during that rebolt mission. And thanks Sam for the perfect climbing day and high psyche during my free ascent on my very last day in the Verdon. And of course, thanks to Graou for lending his dear baby called “Drill Machine”.

MINGUS 300m/8a

pitch 1: 6c+

Once you survive the 2+ traverse from Baume de l’Escales, you’re happy to clip two new bolts to keep yourself alive while starting the route. By far the loosest pitch of the route. Climbing up on crazy pockets in poor rock. Bolts are good.

pitch 2: 7b

Fantastic start, left traverse in grey rock leading to a slab where you have to climb on it’s right and then traverse left towards the boulder problem. I replaced the bolt there slightly to the right, so it makes it more logic trying the boulder.

pitch 3: 8a

Climbing up and then undercling traverse to the right leading to the first hard move. Replaced a bolt at that spot. Then continuously hard climbing on cauliflower holds. Requires some fresh temps, stiff shoes and a good portion of skin.

pitch 4: 7a

Great Verdon water drop traverse to the left, then I replaced a bolt leaving the ramp. Climbing somehow straight up on poor rock. Scary. I replaced one bolt on a very loose spot.

pitch 5: 7b+

Starts in the same poor rock as the previous. Then great boulder problem on grey rock! I replaced two bolts at a slightly different spot, but left one of the old ones for aid climbers.

pitch 6: 6c

Amazing climbing with a touch of alpine style. Good pitons.

pitch 7: 7c

Great climbing in typical grey Verdon rock. Vertical climbing on good pockets for the first half, then the wall becomes slabby and the holds very small. Hard on feet.

pitch 8: 7b+

Great start leading up towards another line crossing in from the left. Don’t use the first weird anchor and continue straight up on the new bolt. Clip the sling to avoid rope traction and cross left again toward the other new bolt leading up to the anchor 10 meters above. That has been the only spot where I (and other climbers) has been confused about the line. The original line takes you out left to loose flakes and almost impossible free climb. So I used the logical itinerary which included adding two bolt to the right. Also I had to bolt an anchor which had been missing (maybe a bolt came out in the past).

pitch 9: 7b

Splendid and spicy pitch on pockets in grey rock leading to the belay on a big ledge. 

pitch 10: 7b+

A real tough one to finish the series of 7b+. Hard and slippery rock to start, I replaced two bolts to avoid a bad ground fall to the ledge. Then technical traverse to the left and technical boulder problem at the end.

pitch 11: 7a+

A simple beauty taking you straight up to a belay underneath the roof.

pitch 12: 7a+

It’s easy to skip the previous belay and to make one long pitch by clipping a long sling on the anchor. Big undercling move to reach good crimps on a little stripe. Linking this roof section towards the good belay station 15 meters above. Maybe harder for the second climber.

From the last belay it’s a 3+ bush scrambling to the top. Good bolt at the end.

My body is sore. Everything hurts. I keep repositioning my feet, shoulders, hips and elbows in bed to get comfortable. Images of the last days are turning non-stop in my brain. But I feel excited, and that nourishes those weird sensations coursing through my body. Maybe it’s because I pushed hard over the last few days…

Lynn and I have spent a lot of time over the last 3 weeks in the Valley and on the Nose, working on the route for an eventual free send at the end of our 4-week trip. On October 30, we decided to give it a go.

We woke up at 5am, had a little food and some coffee, and drove silently to the base of El Cap.  We were quiet and focused, in spite of the film crew surrounding us. Bryan Liptzin, who has been following Lynn and I over the last few months to realize a documentary, brought his family as well as professional cameraman, Jon Glassberg, to film our joint ascent.

We started climbing in the dark. I focused on the texture of the rock illuminated by the light of the headlamp. One movement after the next, almost ignoring the 1000m wall looming above us. Climbing big walls has taught me to enjoy each small step towards the top. If your mind and body drift away from the present moment, the enormity of the thing can overwhelm you and lead to failure.

Lynn and I moved fast. The previous week we had a wonderful training run on the lower part of the route up to Camp 4, which is situated 600m above the ground. That mileage was very helpful for this ascent – Climbing 17 pitches in a day made us very fit, and we had become familiar with the granite and sorted out who is going to lead each pitch.

I love leading. I enjoy being on the sharp end, and it was very important to me to lead all of the harder pitches. Lynn, on the other hand, hates falling and don’t need that exciting feeling anymore at the age of 57. Well, as it turned out, Lynn took the biggest whipper of the entire ascent on pitch 4! Her foot slipped on a traverse, and as the pieces were widely spaced, she cartwheeled across the face, ending up with a bloody knee and sprained finger in the process. From that moment on, it was obvious that it would be up to me to take most of the leads on this ascent.

We climbed all day, passing only one party at Sickle Ledge. It was tiring: those wide cracks are physical, and the hauling is very draining. I was happy to send every single pitch, and we arrived at Camp 4 just before dark. We put up the portaledge in a short time, and while cooking dinner on this fantastic perch, became flooded with joy.

Sitting on a portaledge, half way up El Cap under a sky full of stars is by far one of the coolest things in life to me. I feel like a princess in her tower, and I know that this is what I live for.

Lynn felt so grateful that I asked her to climb that route together a couple of month ago. It took a lot for her to leave home and all of her responsibilities, and to throw herself into big wall climbing again. But she surprised herself cutting loose and feeling free, and has lived this adventure fully.

I felt lucky and a little sad at the same time. This was the last night we would spend together, just the two of us. The next day there would be the film crew with us, rapping in from the top, and after the ascent Lynn wold have to go back to her home. It was the last time we spent alone; sharing stories about life, love and dramas. Those stories you tell to your best friend when you’re at an outstanding place and you feel total confidence and togetherness. We drifted off to sleep, secure on our ledge and in our friendship.

The first thing I saw next morning when I opened my eyes was the Great Roof jutting out right above me. Such a gorgeous and difficult line; following a beautiful crack up to this gigantic roof. A week ago, I wasn’t able to send it, but I was close, and I knew that I could do it this time. During this time with Lynn it has been very important to me show my absolute best, and I felt ready to send that iconic pitch.

We moved fast that morning, and an hour later, I was ready to place gear for warming up. Jon filmed from the belay, and compared to the stressful experience I had filming the ascent in Orbayu, I felt very comfortable this time. My boyfriend who is a guide in France, was assisting Jon and was watching nearby. His presence was calming, and I felt our deep connection.

I felt very good that morning climbing, despite the big day we had before. Spurred on by Lynn’s positive vibes, I climbed like an angel up the 30m to the roof, and relaxed a little before attacking the traverse. I climbed really well under the roof, but I made an error by trying to clip my last piece at the end of the roof. I missed the clip twice and that cost me my send.  A big whipper, followed by some French expressions, were the result. The entire meadow heard my screaming, and I think that some people had the impression that someone had just died on the wall.

Back down at the belay, I was totally calm again and Lynn reminded me that she did not clip one single peace during her send. So I decided to do the same, and on my next try I climbed perfectly. When I’m in sending mode, I’m on fire and in my own little bubble. In those moments that’s the thing that counts to me and I’m 200% focused, only positive thoughts in my head.

A big scream again, but this time at the end of the roof and full of joy! Lynn had some tears in her eyes when I sent. Overall she has been very touched by watching me climbing. Maybe it reminds her of her ascents, or the way she did them.

That moment was by far one of the best to me, and this high I felt was with me for the rest of the ascent. That day we climbed two more pitches to reach Camp 5, which is one of the best spots on El Cap. You can see the entire wall while leaning out of the portagledge, and this evening we had one of the most beautiful sunsets one can imagine.

For breakfast Lynn and I both sent the Glowering spot, a 12d, and an hour later we were at Camp 6 where the Changing Corners starts. I had stopped working on that 14a in our second week because it has simply been to warm this past month, and so my focus has been on the Great Roof. I started to climb without any expectations while the sun started hitting the corners. I stuck the first hard move on the corner easily, and was feeling pretty good. I somehow surprised myself, and it all felt much easier than two weeks ago. I did a quick work on the route to figure out some more links I was missing. I started to feel that with a big portion of magic, I could freeclimb the Nose today. But on my first attempt, the burning sun had heated up the corners, and I felt regret that we had started too late this morning. I failed, tried again, failed and then barely made my way up to the anchor. It was impossible to climb this pitch in the warm sun.

I had a few moments of hesitations: would Lynn agree to spend one or two more days on the wall? Waiting on me for a send? Was I really ready? And would it make sense for me to slow down our celebration of the 25^thanniversary? I put myself in Lynn’s position and I knew that she would be open, cancelling her flight back home and supporting me a few more days.

And then I asked myself if I was ready to deal with that pressure and to deal with this feeling of asking her so much on top of the huge support she has given me over the last month. I closed my eyes and I felt what made sense to me: climbing to the top today and celebrating her and our beautiful ascent on the summit with our friends waiting up there.

By taking that decision and not sending the Changing Corners, I had a real breakdown. The endless power and force I had been full of seemed to slip away. My muscles felt so tired and I had a hard time climbing 5.11.

Lynn at the other hand was blowing it up the higher we got. She felt so comfortable climbing on this route again, her route in some way, and she climbed weightless and totally free. At the belay of the upper headwall pitch, a 12c, I had to force myself to put it all together. Lynn was once more so positive and although I felt beaten, I wanted to give it my all, one last time. Sending that pitch was so hard for me.  But then seeing Lynn climb it in such a fine style made me cry when she reached the belay.

This beautiful emotion overcame me, an emotion that when you see someone simply happy, totally in her element and doing what she loves most in life. Lynn lead the last bit up to the famous tree on the summit and I followed with the bags. The entire crew was there, as the sky turned a million shades of gold, orange and red in the evening light. Lynn took me in her arms and we both cried. Tears full of joy, coming out of our tired bodies.

I can’t remember the last time I cried. But it was stronger than me, this emotion of offering the most beautiful present to my friend Lynn for her 25^thanniversary. This priceless present when you can support someone you love by spending time together on that place, on that wall, on that route.

While writing this story, tears are running down my face, again! Those tears are real, connected to this beautiful human adventure we went through. And no matter how I continue this Nose thing (once my body feels ok again), I already feel like a winner.

At the bottom of my heart I feel honored for the month I spent with Lynn. It has been so incredible, and the climbing was pure fun and enjoyment. I felt great at Lynn’s side – she has this magic that makes her so special. I grew a lot and I think that I gave her a lot as well: my follies, my way of being positive and optimistic, my self irony and my big drive to reach a goal.

Now she has returned to her life, kid and pets in Boulder, and I’m going to do my best to keep up that “Lynn” magic.

“I believe in magic and that I can be magical”, that was Lynn’s answer on our way to Yosemite, when I asked her if she had doubts in our project.

Free climbing the Nose requires even more than that; a huge commitment, core strength, finger power, solid legs, endurance, trad climbing knowledge and then, on top of that, a big dose of magic!

We both started to work on the route almost three weeks ago. In order to make things efficient, we set up a static line that went down to the Changing Corners pitch, and later all the way down to the Great Roof. Those two pitches are by far the key points of the route. Now, the Great Roof seems possible to me, but for Changing Corners I will have to invest much more time. This pitch is one of the most confusing things I’ve ever been on. I somehow figured out all the moves, so I know it’s possible, but that’s it. I can barely link sections and it’s also very condition depending. Patience!

Lynn somehow wanted to free climb the route again (at the age of 57!!!). Over the last 25 years, she had the impression that route only required a good technique, and the smaller you are, the better, especially for Changing Corners. Over the past three weeks, seeing me work on it and trying to climb the route herself, she finally realized how big her performance was 25 years ago. She did not climb that thing because she was small or because of her small fingers. She was simply very, very strong, in every aspect…way ahead of her time.

She realized this several days ago, while we were sitting below the Great Roof in our portaledge on Camp 4. We had pulled up the static lines and made a training session by free climbing from the ground up to Camp 4, which is 600m above the ground. I wanted to free climb the Great Roof next day. I knew that I still needed to work on Changing Corners for an eventual send, but I decided to approach the route in sections.

We talked about how it felt to be up there again, as the warming rays of the sun gave way to the quiet light of the full moon illuminating the wall and the valley below. She was deeply touched and I saw a teardrop running down her face. The next day, she became even more supportive and psyched for me freeing the entire route one day. Lynn told me that she got so much support when she had been working on the route, and that now she wanted to give me the same.

That’s why, in my eyes, she is still to this day, the most respected climber in the world, and she owns it.

I have to say that overall I couldn’t have imagined a better partner for the Nose than her. Lynn is always positive, always laughing and having fun, and there has been no single moment of drama or panic. I do have to say that I feel responsible for logistics and safety on the wall and since she hasn’t been on a big wall in 20 years, oh dear! sometimes I need some patience. At the same time, I feel very honored and respected. She put her life in my hands without doubts, was willing to learn some new big wall techniques, and encouraged me all the time to work hard, although the conditions haven’t been “chocolat”.

To be honest, I never imagined to be able to free that route in the one-month period I have with Lynn, but it’s important to me to try my very best and to free climb as much as possible. That’s what I owe her and it’s not only about me on this project at all; it’s a celebration of Lynn’s incredible first free ascent 25 years ago.

In a few day’s we’re gonna climb the entire route from the ground up, freeing as much as we can. It will be a beautiful way of celebrating: her anniversary with this route, the friendship we have created over the last month and everything life has taught us since.

And after that it’s up to me to continue the work and to take everything she has passed on to me. I’m not going to be Lynn, but she’s the most inspiring person I have climbed with. I felt this magic while being with her on the wall, and after strength, power and lots of practice, that’s definitely the key to success!

Photos: Jan Novak

Je me suis toujours dit que dans ma vie de grimpeuse, j’aimerais bien mettre les doigts dans « Tough Enough » à Madagascar. Ce genre de voies dures me fait rêver mais elles me mettent mal à l’aise aussi car j’ai peur de l’échec. Je n’ai jamais eu le courage d’y aller, mais comme la vie est bien faite, ce printemps l’occasion s’est présentée. J’ai eu l’honneur d’accompagner mon amie Mélissa Le Nevé qui, de son coté, a déjà passé 5 semaines dans la voie l’été dernier.
Avec Mélissa on a une belle et longue amitié, presque comme une histoire d’amour. C’est elle qui m’a assurée et soutenue dans ma première grande voie dans le Verdon « Ultime démence ». C’est elle qui m’a appris une bonne partie du savoir vivre et de la folie française. C’est aussi avec elle que je me fritte le plus souvent car on a toutes les deux des caractères très forts, un élément incontournable pour une voie comme « Tough Enough ».

A notre arrivée bien retardée à Antananarivo (on a mis 28 heures pour décoller avec Air Madagascar alias « Air Peut-Etre » de Paris), je me retrouvais confrontée à une sensation nouvelle. Pour la première fois, je visitais un pays d’Afrique, et de ce fait, me sentais malgré moi étrangère par la seule différence de couleur de peau. Cette nuance marquant inconsciemment une distance entre les locaux et nous m’a tellement fracassée, que j’ai craqué après 10 jours sur place dans la vallée du Tsaranoro.

C’était un après-midi bien chaud à 400m du sol, en plein de milieu de la longueur 9 en 8b+ avec le joli nom Gecko. Les jours précédents j’avais brassé comme une folle et une fatigue profonde s’était installée. Grimper dans une des grandes voies les plus dures au monde fatigue, certes, mais il y a aussi toutes les impressions nouvelles qui semé un grand bordel au fond de moi. Mél, assise au relais sur une sellette en bois, m’avait moulinée depuis le haut pour que je puisse mieux caler cette voie de 50m.

Après notre arrivée à Antananarivo, la capitale, on avait mis une journée de bus pour arriver sur place, accompagnées par Jan Novak qui a vécu deux ans à Madagascar.

Surexcitées et les avec crocs pour grimper, Mél m’a fait découvrir les premiers jours la voie par le bas. J’ai pu aller en tête dans les 6 premières longueurs et j’ai kiffé la sensation de grimper dans une voie avec zéro traces de magnésie et très peu parcourue. Je les ai trouvées très difficiles, mais avec l’habitude de prendre ces petites prises, souvent avec le pouce, et avec une assurance dans la pose des pieds, j’étais assez confiante et pensais qu’elles allaient vite tomber.

Pour pouvoir travailler les 4 dernières, qui sont toutes dans le 8b+, on a fait le tour pour monter au sommet du Karamboni, d’ou on peut descendre tranquillement sur des cordes statiques.
Ces 4 longueurs sont simplement ouf… La première fois quand tu descends dedans, c’est un mur lisse, lisse, lisse… tu te demandes où sont les prises. Heureusement, Mél se rappelait encore bien où  les trouver. Equipées toutes les deux d’une brosse métallique, les sacs à pof remplis de magnésie et plusieurs brosses Faza, on préparait la voie pour qu’elle soit grimpable.

Le style est… atypique et un peu particulier… le bassin collé contre la paroi pour essayer de rester sur ces prises inexistantes, tout en finesse, en équilibre et des chaussons affutés.

Normalement je me débrouille pas mal dans ce genre de voies, mais j’ai rencontré des réelles difficultés et tombais partout. Je me suis tout de suite rendue compte que c’était trop gros et trop dur pour pouvoir faire quoi que ce soit en trois semaines. Je commençai donc à être tendue et je me posais pas mal de questions sur le but du séjour. La frustration qui se déclenche quand on n’arrive pas trop à bouger dans une voie, s’installait de plus en plus.

Et nous voilà à ce fameux pétage de plombs par Nina « Caprice ». Je balançais toutes mes frustrations sur Mélissa, la pauvre. Le fait que je n’arrivais pas à m’exprimer dans la voie comme je l’avais imaginé au début ont provoqué des sentiments étranges, mélangés à la colère que je pouvais ressentir face au comportement de certains touristes occidentaux vis à vis des Malgaches.Des siècles d’esclavage et de racisme ont laissé une marque profonde dans les relations entre les locaux et les visiteurs blancs qui peinent à surmonter leurs préjudices et trouver une attitude juste et d’égal à égal.

Faut dire que l’escalade est quand-même un sport qui nous montre l’image claire de qui l’on est et de ce qui nous travaille au fond de nous. Grimper est comme regarder son ego en face et, oui, parfois ça fait mal. Je me suis rendue compte que toute ma vie j’ai évité d’affronter des voies que je n’étais pas sûre d’enchaîner et que je recherchais la facilité. Je ne sais pas ce que cela veut dire de se lancer dans quelque chose qui ne mènera peut être pas à la croix et j’ai jamais appris à gérer ça. Toutes mes performances ont relativement été acquises et personnellement j’éprouve une grande satisfaction à à aboutir et à clipper des relais.

Mélissa a su vraiment bien réagir. A la place de me rentrer dedans, elle m’a juste laissée faire, vider mon sac et elle m’a regardée avec beaucoup de douceur, contente que je lâche enfin prise.

Quand j’y repense, l’image me fait bien rire : « Mélissa l’Enervée » et « Nina Caprice » perdues au fin fond de Madagascar en train de faire une scène sur une des plus belles parois du monde, à faire fuir les caméléons et lémuriens.

Après ça, on a pu pleinement savourer le reste du séjour. L’escalade je ne la voyais plus du tout comme un échec, bien au contraire ; chaque mètre grimpé, c’était ça de gagner. Petit à petit on a réussi à déchiffrer des longueurs, toujours avec ce beau sens du partage et excitées de faire face à la difficulté. On a réussi à en enchainer quelques-unes, dans d’autres on a été proche et dans certaines on est toujours très loin !

Mettre ses doigts dans cette voie, c’est une rencontre avec soi, sa partenaire de grimpe, mais aussi avec un lieu inconnu : c’est la première fois que je grimpais en Afrique et cette expérience fut loin d’être anodine…

Appréhender cette voie aux 10 longueurs aussi différentes les unes que les autres, c’est un peu comme apprivoiser les rapports humains : c’est un jeu d’équilibre qui s’apprend pas à pas. C’est en fin de compte l’ouverture d’esprit et l’abaissement des barrières mentales qui fait que l’on commence à se sentir bien dans sa peau. C’est accueillir avec humilité et simplicité de nouvelles cultures, de nouvelles histoires humaines. Comme avec la voie dont j’ai appris après un certain temps à accueillir la difficulté, la taille et la complexité, passer du temps là-bas m’a apporté une grande richesse et petit à petit j’ai commencé à trouver ma place.

Après avoir passé trois semaines au camp catta, les Malgaches qui y ont travaillés étaient devenus nos amis. Lors de notre départ ils nous ont dit qu’on les avait touchés par notre attitude et la volonté de partager et de comprendre leur vie, ce que ne font pas forcément les touristes qui souvent ne font que passer et observer à distance.

Aller sur la terre rouge et affronter une des voies la plus dures au monde est un peu comme une belle histoire d’amitié ; cela ne m’étonne pas d’ailleurs de la vivre avec Mél.  Cette histoire est réelle et parfois douloureuse mais elle est si belle aussi ; avec un peu de recul on voit sa richesse et la façon dont elle nous fait vibrer.

En tout cas une chose est sûre et certaine : l’an prochain on retourne approfondir cette amitié avec Tough Enough … 😉

J’aimerais dire merci du fond du cœur à Melissa pour tout ce qu’elle m’apprend dans la vie et ces moments de partage intenses.
Merci Jan d’avoir apporté ta légèreté et grande qualité de vivre le moment présent pleinement et tranquillement.

Merci MSR pour votre super matos et en particulier pour le filtre d’eau qui est vital quand on veut vivre un peu à la brousse.
Merci Petzl et Arcteryx de nous avoir fait confiance sur ce projet et de nous avoir soutenues financièrement. On remet ça l’an prochain !

Merci Hard Bar et Lyofood de nous avoir données de la bonne énergie sur la paroi et au camp avancé au sommet. On s’est régalée avec vos barres, repas et petit déjeuners et ça nous a changé du riz blanc.

Merci Faza Brushes de faire les brosses qui résistent à ce granit super abrasif qui bouffe normalement les brosses en peu de temps (on a utilisé que deux sur dix pendant tout le séjour !)

Tout simplement un grand Merci Madacascar !  On se retrouve l’été prochain !