Bleauvember: Diplodocus & Rocher Fin(tastic)

November, in Fontainebleau. A whole different animal to earlier trips in the balmy summer months. According to some we are closing in on the ideal Font sending season; despite being distinctly cooler it's still actually too hot for proper, dedicated bouldering machines. Luckily, we are not they, and so the warmest November in the history of November is okay with us.

Unfortunately, accompanying this warm November was an interesting phenomenon whereby everything was very, very humid, including the boulders. Consequently we spent one of our early days wandering round Gorge aux Chats in t-shirts, under blue skies, poking disconsolately at the perspiring rock. After a few days of this interesting moistness, it must have dried out because we started climbing. Our first 'proper' day was to Diplodocus and Rocher Fin, both new and therefore exciting. Amber's goal for the day was six 6's; Sam's was to not pull any left heel hooks in order to avoid aggravating a tweeky something-or-other...in his bum. 

Diplodocus turned out to be delightful, like a giant playground of uber-featured boulders warped into fantastical shapes all centred round the Diplodocus block itself; a giant witch's hat. The top problem we climbed was Technogym, a mini-masterpiece of roofy awesome.

A little further along, on a little path up and over branches and out into a clearing is Rocher Fin, a sheltered little hilltop retreat. You emerge into an open space dotted with squat boulders sat in soft, dark yellow sand. It was quite busy, but remained tranquil. We worked through some nice red circuit problems then spent the remnants of the afternoon on the absorbing 'Nez' bloc with some enthusiastic French guys. Between us, we got three out of the four problems that breach the nose: Sam flashed Mémoire d'Outre Tombe and then linked the extra start moves to gain Mrs du Plus, and Amber cheated her bendy way through A Vue de Néz. 

The day was gorgeous, but we failed on our objectives. Amber only got five 6's, which is far less alliteratively satisfying, and Sam used his left heel profusely. Rookies.