My hands where clammy as I drove into Fontainebleau, I have climbed on and off for years. My father climbed a lot when he was younger therefore we have been bought up around it as a family (Much to my mothers distaste). Since coming to Europe I had drifted away from the sport somewhat mainly due to a lack of local knowledge and enthusiastic climbers . . . however that was all about to change.
We had just had an incredible two weeks in the South of France surfing with friends when one night over a few Bordeaux wines someone mentioned we should travel back to Luxembourg via Fontainebleau. Ignorantly I asked ‘why?’ (Before you get to upset with me bare in mind I am from New Zealand and knowledge of such places doesn’t often reach us).After the verbal barrage stopped I had the most eloquent description of the climbing in Fontainebleau – incredibly brilliant because it came from a hard talking Irishman. His description of the place made me want to pack my tent and get there straight away; he was practically salivating just describing it.
Over the next few days we moved up the country through Boudreaux and Cognac before finally driving into Font. Fontainebleau is a beautiful little city, with the most amazing château I have ever seen – It claims to have 1900 rooms and I wouldn’t be surprised.
As the sun was setting we found a nice little campsite and in my broken French I asked if they had room for us – ‘of course’ was the answer cloaked in a very British accent, that was a real surprise.
We picked a site, put up the tent and sat down for a drink while watching a steady stream of climbers hobble back after what I imagined was an incredibly satisfying day. As the sun went down we crawled into bed (I only had a day and a half so was going to make the most of the opportunity)
The next morning I was up and scratching at the tent door like a dog needing to pee. A quick trip to Decathlon to pick up a pair of shoes and ‘thunderbirds where go’. The build up given about Fontainebleau was not fabricated in any way. We pulled into a rest area (or ‘aire’ in French) and followed the track into the lush forest. Soon we stood in a wide open space with a nice sandy floor, shaded by trees, while all around us where hundreds and hundreds of boulders, some small enough to sit on and others 3 stories high. Groups of guys wandered through the cool forest with topo maps picking their next problem to attempt. I was like a kid in a candy store . . . so many climbs so little time. Being arrogant (or ignorant) about my abilities I decided a steep overhang with only small finger holds was a good warm up climb.
This is where the pain began, not only had I not climbed for quite some time but my technique had disappeared and even resorting to brute strength didn’t work, I was in serious trouble. The session continued this way, Fontainebleau was getting the better of me in fact after a few tumbles it actually felt like I was getting beaten up by the forest. Shear determination and memories of success kept me going, slowly it began to come back. I scrambled up a number of easier problems slowly beginning to work up to my previous ability. I climbed for about 1.5 – 2 hours before my muscles said ‘that’s enough’. It was obvious I was in poor form.We returned to the camp site for a bite to eat and after a look around the city I returned for an evening session on the boulders of Fontainebleau. This time my mind was working, earlier concerns where alleviated and I felt comfortable as I conquered an easy problem. The rest of the trip continued like this, it was as if Fontainebleau would let me build up my confidence before ripping it down. The problems range in skill level so that almost anyone can climb here but few can master it. What is brilliant about Font is that while my girlfriend is not interested in climbing she sat with me, watched me climb and got very involved in figuring out the problems. The beauty of this situation meant that I was no longer reliant on others to climb anymore. That and Paris is only 65km away so a compromise can always be quickly and easily reached if travelling with a partner that doesn’t like Climbing.
The next day we had to continue to Luxembourg, this was probably a good thing because that night it was I who hobbled back into camp and yes it did hurt but what an incredibly satifying feeling it was, one that only comes with a great day. The next day however it was just pain as I struggled to lift my hands over my head.
All in all an incredible experience and I am already planning another trip to the climbing Mecca that is Fontainebleau. I would strongly suggest even if you’re not a strong or confident climber that you attempt some of the routes or problems, it’s enjoyable and will push you physically and mentally. It’s a great way to spend a warm and sunny weekend in France.For a comprehensive guide to 'beginners rock climbing' click here the article covers where to begin, how and what equipment is required.
