Sunday July 2, 2006 - Bruggler (1720m)

As promised Martijn picked me up at 7.30am and we blasted off for Nafels and then on to the Schwandital. After paying the parkmaster and parking we sorted out what gear we wanted to take, packed it up and started up the trail. This turned out to be harder than I remembered.

The walk to the base of the Bruggler nearly did me in. Leila had taken me for a 50km ride the day before, which included carrying the bikes up and down big hills around Uster, so my legs turning to jelly before even the climbing started wasn't totally unexpected. It was hot too, although Martijn said that a couple of weeks earlier he and Lara had suffered under even warmer conditions as they climbed up Tante Ju (6b). Must have been like climbing a giant frying pan. Anyway, while I sat there recovering I drank some water and ate my sandwich, it was about 10.15am or so. The wall stretched up 150m above us.

Martijn had let me choose the route and I tried to find something that would be a happy medium between our skills, what with me being a punter and him being superman. So I settled on Nomis (6a) which he thought was fine. We found the start of it easily enough and Martijn suited up for the first pitch which the book said was rated at 6a. Although it also noted for this pitch a 6b+ in brackets. Martijn explained that this meant that the pitch was really 6b+ and that the 6a was the rating when you pulled on gear. Hello, isn't pulling on gear considered cheating?

It was a tough pitch though, Martijn had to pull on draws to get over the crux. This made my eyes boggle a bit ... Martijn is over six feet of superman climber, all lumpy with muscles and everything. How in hell am I going to follow this? After some minutes the big fella got to the top and set an anchor to bring me up ... something I thought would need a winch. Still, in that stupidly determined way that some people approach the impossible I tried very hard to avoid pulling on gear. However, after I gave up my struggles, which included pendulumning left and right to reach not-so-handy ledges and grips, I used the draws and shamefacedly hauled on them accordingly. After that I followed Martijn's line to his belay, a line which seemed a bit thin. The next pitch would be mine.

The second pitch, which I led, was only a 5b and it went pretty well. No real problems to speak of, lots of pockets to haul on even though they were a bit spaced. Martijn raced up and then took the lead for the third pitch, a 5c+. He would lead the next one too, as it was also a 5c+. Both of these pitches were dominated by thin slab moves between excitingly spaced bolts. Martijn said that it was pretty scary. Which is sort of like hearing a test pilot murmur misgivings about a flight you just boarded. This was not incredible fun and I peeled off at one point as I tried to follow him. After desparately flailing to the top of the fourth pitch we stopped for some water and a review of the remaining climbs. Not that this would help much, the burning sun had addled my wits to the point that a) I thought I could climb the next pitch and b) I knew which way to go. I was wrong on both counts.

Well it was a 5b that supposed to go left a bit. I start off by traversing towards an upwards pointing red arrow painted on the wall, but when I get there this seems like a red herring as there are no bolts in sight. Looking further left and squinting I end up spotting a bolt quite some distance off. Ah-ha I think, that must be it. I head over there, setting a wired nut and then a camalot along the way (gotta protect my partner right?), clip the bolt and then head up. Immediate and hellish rope-drag make progress nearly impossible. I spot a tree just a few feet above with a rope tied around it. With great difficulty I heave up, and clip to the rope with my anchor-sling and then ponder my fate. Damned rope-drag would make it impossible for me to get much further, so I had to stop. Besides, I couldn't see any more anchors. With superhuman strength I thrashed my way up through the tree branches and then got above it, hoping to spot a bolt or something. No bolts and no way I could keep going. So I built a three point anchor using wired nuts, something I haven't done for about five years. Now this is trad climbing! Well, sort of.

Martijn yells over, "What are you doing?"
I say that I'm "Making an anchor."
"What?!" which is a typical sport-weenie reply.

After much hauling of so-called slack I belay for Martijn from my homemade anchor and fairly soon he sweeps by to finish the pitch, stopping only to take whatever gear I could give him. We didn't know it yet, but I had actually moved us all the way across to the last pitches of Highway and Martijn was finishing a 5a pitch for me. He brought me up and then I passed him to finish the last pitch, thinking we were still on Nomis we thought it would be a really short 4b. However while the last pitch of Highway is indeed a 4b, it is nearly 50m long. Also, even at 4b slab moves give me the willies. The end just couldn't come soon enough. At the top I set my anchor and brought up Martijn. It was 2.30pm. Woohoo ... we live again!