Fontainebleau - The Dream Forest of French Bouldering

that graviton sequence ...

Alpinism and Competition
Chapter 11
Fontainebleau


What would the Parisian alpinist be without "Bleau"? Without the Sunday climbs on Bellifontaine sandstone? Very diminished, no doubt. Outside of Paris, beautiful limestone cliffs are found just about everywhere – and of impressive dimensions: the Dijonnais, the Calanques, the Ardennes, the Saussois… But us, we have our little rocks at Franchart, la Dame Jeanne, the Puiselet, Malesherbes, Cuvier. Cuvier, above all – that sacrosanct sanctuary, the very locus where free climbing is pushed to the maximum of current difficulty (let's not commit the future!).

Here the routes – which are a great many, maybe five hundred for Cuvier alone, with a third being truly difficult – aren't measured in tens or hundreds of meters. Our scrubbing pan rocks, as a certain Chamonix guide defined them, are only a few meters tall. It's this that appeals to us and makes for the excellence of this school of climbing. With no need for laying out ropes, no long waits to tackle this or that difficulty, we move quickly from one to the other – only fatigue stops us and compels us to slow down.

On these small rocks, quite close to the ground, we can let ourselves go, and – dare I say – outstrip the limits of our potential: the falls are of no consequence. If need be, we can try a given hard start twenty times in a row, learning by means of this, with exactitude, the friction limits between rock and rubber, learning to sense precise balancings, to trust incredibly small holds and in this way acquire qualities of a climber that are superior to those given by any other major school rock-climbing.
Not that it isn't useful from time to time for the Bleausard to go and put his knowledge to the test, to come into contact with long and sustained routes and get accustomed to the impressive verticality of the limestone cliffs.

I hold it to be true that at the present moment, in free climbing, our best climbers can equal, on their terrain, the best high limestone massif specialists and that the converse is not the case. To date, no climber who is a stranger to Bleau has succeeded and far from it in surmounting our greatest difficulties.

But, you'll tell me, the majority of the best alpinists don't frequent your "Bleau," and we've seen a number of Bleausards who were hardly brilliant in the mountains.

Of course, but it's only a question here of pure rock-climbing; the mountains are much more complex. Many qualities are needed besides those required by rock-climbing, and being a brilliant rock-climber serves little when morale or route-finding ability for example are lacking. Ice experience and technique also have to be acquired, and this is what the Bleausard lacks most often.

Of all the qualities the mountains demand of the alpinist, it's the weakest one that limits the alpinist's pretensions, in the image of the chain that's no stronger than its weakest link. But since there's nothing preventing chance from bestowing the necessary gifts from time to time upon Parisians, having perfected their talent on our sandstone rocks can only be a positive advantage.

And to tell the truth it isn't solely with an eye to mountain routes that we visit Bleau and climb there, it's above all because we make a game of it, one that in and of itself arouses our passion. It's good training? All the better, but even if that weren't the case, for the majority of us nothing would have changed. Every week we would find ourselves, just as assiduous, just as persistent, climbing a route that resisted our assault, and just as satisfied when it finally succumbed through our efforts and technique. Like the games played in stadiums, there is rivalry among climbers, a friendly one, but a rivalry none the less. If, leaving the classics, we venture so far as to try one of "Cuvier's last great problems," and after many a "go" one of us triumphs over this prestigious four or five meter first ascent, he is momentarily just as proud as he would be had he just succeeded on some new route up the flanks of some great alpine summit. Whereupon, his friends get worked up for the second, the third, etc.

That's of no interest, you say? Perhaps, but the same goes for the tenth of a second taken off the time for the hundred meters, or the extra kilo lifted overhead by the weightlifter – a car or a crane can do much better!
To this passion for climbing, we can add the pleasures of camping and the benefits of thirty hours of clean air, during which, forgetting the cares of the office, workshop or sales counter, each Saturday we find once again and with the same intense satisfaction – you might even say the same need – the special atmosphere of our rocks and its group of habitués. This is where we often work out our summer projects and dare to speak of certain bogeymen, considering such ventures natural, even if it means revising our judgment once in the field, in accordance with a formula I have long made my own – audacity in conception, prudence in execution.

Translation by Randolph Burks

Just found my Font guidebooks when going thru stuff today, stoked to add some stuff here- absolutely can't wait to be back in the dream forest someday.