Fontainebleau is one of the best places on the planet to go bouldering. Easily accessible from the UK. This is an account of my second trip. And the hardest problem in Font.
“Bouldering is like being at one with the rock and at one with nature. It is almost childlike exploration of finger grabs and foot placements. The only safety net is your friend spotting you and a 15cm thick pad of foam.”
This was my second attempt at bouldering in Font. Two hours sleep, because, as always I leave my packing until the last thing at night and can never find everything, and then it was time to hit the road.
Why do my friends always insist on a 6am ferry? To go for a climb in the afternoon of course. Unless you get lost in Paris first. It is a 5 hour drive from Dunkerque to Font, but if you take a wrong turn off the main road and then a couple more wrong turns you are in the middle of Paris, seeing the sights, which is all well and good, but I did that on a Paris weekend break earlier in the year.
We finally made it to the municipal campsite near Font right alongside the Seine, with massive barges ploughing up and down the river, making any chance of an après climb swim too dangerous. Luckily there was a bar next to the campsite, so après climb beers it would have to be instead.
As we arrived at the campsite too late to go for a climb we went for a beer or two. This bar is situated on near the edge of the Seine, with an open sided drinking area and run by a very chatty chap who seems to know exactly what is happening with the weather. Apparently the forecast was for English Sunshine, which roughly translates into rain. Great.
Bright and early the next day dawned on us. Heavy of head from the previous evening we tucked into tea and cake, very English, but in the early hours of the morning, very French. The sun was shining and the rocks were beckoning. The more experienced members of the group worked out where we were going to climb. I’ve no idea where we went, just off to play in the woods, like last time. This is one of the things I love about coming to Font.
The rocks are always in the woods or to be more precise the forest. The area is huge and beautiful lush green. You can hear the birds chattering, the wind rustling the leaves as you wind your way along the forest tracks looking for the paint marks, telling you where you start the circuit.
I was advised that the highest climb in Font was 16 meters, which doesn’t sound too bad if you are climbing. It does sound bad if you are bouldering. For those of you that are not in the know, bouldering is like pure climbing, no ropes or harnesses to hinder your way. As the name suggests you climb on boulders which shouldn’t be very high so when you slip, fall or jump off you can just about land in a semi-controlled manner, hopefully without twisting your ankle.
After much apprehension we arrived at the rocks and I was advised that we weren’t at the place with the 16m high climb. Thankfully they said the highest bouldering problem was 8m. With no ropes, even at 8m you still have a great incentive to hold on and finish the climb as your arms are pumping out, fingers sore and feet starting to slip. This happened to me twice. 7.5m up. One problem to get over and I would be at the top safely catching my breath before the often scary descent. Luckily on these two climbs I made it. Plenty of others to fall off that weren’t quite so high.
The day ploughed on with Ed completing the hardest problem of all, no one else could manage it. A feat of strength and skill, balance and poise? No, he was just the skinniest and managed to squeeze through the hole in the rock, with a helpful heave from the rest of us. I’m glad he made it through as I’ve no idea what we would have done if he was stuck. This challenge was part of the ‘white route’ easy little things that kids can play on while their parents are trying out the climbs. Fontainebleau comes across as very child friendly. There are always families there, parents climbing, children playing, babies sleeping until the grand French lunch when the massive picnics come out, rugs piled high with bread cheese, wine, salad and beers. Delightful.
As they day drew to and end we completed the full circuit of 42 climbs, exhausted as it started to spit with rain.
The following morning was overcast, it rained heavy at night and we didn’t think that the rocks would be suitable for climbing. We had come a long way for the climb, so consulting our Jingo Wobbly Guide we headed out to an area where the rocks dry quickly. Slightly slimy and pockets of rain on some of the climbs made them a lot harder and a little scarier. Still looking overcast we beat around 10 climbs into submission before the rains started again, this time never to stop. It rained all afternoon and evening, on into the night. The following morning it didn’t stop and the forecast was rain for the next two days. The executive decision was taken to call the trip off and head back home. We played on our neighbour's slack line, slung between two trees on the edge of the river, for a couple of hours, something you can just about do in the rain and promising ourselves one when we get back England. Then we headed home, defeated by the ‘English Sunshine’ we brought with us. Still, there is always next time.
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