I turned 27 on October 21st. At this point I should feel adult, yet sometimes I have the feeling I am becoming older without gaining in maturity. I wonder if it is just a feeling.
I celebrated a climbing birthday. After desiring it for a long time, I could finally go to the Bockmattli: on the Westwaendli route, with my friend Christopher.
Given the concurrence of this climb and my anniversary I would be tented to give in to cheap philosophy, starting babbling about climbing as a metaphore of life, etc. I will spare the raving and keep to describing the route, without dirtying its pure beauty with existential nonsense.
The Westwaendli begins with a IV grade slab followed by a chimney and a very easy central section, a sort of hanging wood of bushes and small trees. The route has very few bolts and we have to place nuts and cams all the way: a first time for me. Past a nice dihedron, the route becomes exciting with a beautiful pitch along two vertical parallel cracks (french 5b/c). All the boldness I had the day before suddenly faded when starting the climb, so I am happy to let Christoph lead the main pitch while I follow, shamefully top-rope.
The route continues in zigzags on rock of varying quality with almost no bolts. Having to “read” the wall, find the way and the placements for our own protections on the nude rock is at the same time exciting and intimidating. For the first time I am really doing what I wanted to when I first started climbing: and it is a great sensation.
The route reaches a big boulder stuck in a wide crack: I pass through the hole and climb the crack pressing my feet on one side and my back on the other. On my right is the known route; on my left, a precipice of a few hundreds meters.
After that, a fun and easy slab brings us to the summit. We celebrate the ascent and my birthday eating bread and cheese and chilling in the warm sun, then we walk down through a gulley.
I can’t wait for spring to go back to Bockmattli and its routes. It is hard to imagine such a wild and adventurous environment at about two hours from Zurich (english climbers would probably laugh at me, as I call wild and adventurous a route that they would grade barely above a “hard scramble”. For me, born and raised on bolted sport routes, it was a real adventure).