Zulu Demente 7A+, Los Mallos de Riglos, Espana
Steven Ford and I had the pleasure of meeting up in Catalunya, Spain for two weeks of climbing during February. We spent most of that time tripping around between the world class sport crags of Margalef, Oliana, Terradets, Santa Linya, and Vilanova de Meia. But after 10 days of vicious forearm abuse we were ready for a change. Sport Climbing is fun but we needed to get off the deck and immerse ourselves in a solid adventure. Los Mallos de Riglos had been on my mind for years, and so many incredible climbers had insisted that we make the trip to the Pinnacles like Mecca. With only a few days left in Steven’s trip and perfect weather we prepped to leave the following morning.
We were very motivated to escape the time/energy vortex of Chris and Daila’s home in Sant LLorenc de Montgai at a quite early 8AM. This was an extremely early Spanish Alpine start; the norm has been leaving the house no earlier then noon. We began the two hour adventure of navigating to Riglos through the foothills of the Pyrennes. It was -1.5 C, which helped me understand why Chris rarely leaves the house before noon.
We arrived in Riglos, after a two hour drive west along the foothils. Trees are in blossom in the lower valleys while the snowy high peaks of the Pyrenees loom off to the north. As we leave the car at the first view of Riglos, a bitter wind greeted our hands that were so eager to get photographs. A mass of colorful 300 meter tall spires and monoliths towers over the small stone village.
We hadn’t even had breakfast yet as we scour the village for a Patisseria, but to no avail, what gives? I thought Pastry shops were like the Taquerias of Spain. We’re not happy. It’s already 1030 and we’re more than a little nervous about our chosen route. Zulu Demente tackles La Visera, a 1000 foot face of rock that looks similar to surfboard sticking out of the sand. The climb begins as vertical then the angle grows ever so slightly steeper. Amazingly the route remains a reasonable 5.10+ or 5.11- until the last pitch which goes free at 5.12 A or B.
Our lack of preparation becomes painfully obvious as we gear up. We have no back pack or way to carry water or clothing. We do have helmets (thanks to Chris), headlamps, carrots, and mango slices. We stuff bread and cheese into our stomachs, don our outfits, and make a hasty start for the base. We wind our way up through a maze of dizzingly narrow and steep streets sandwiched between stone buildings towards La Visera, which we know next to nothing about, expect for the 3 different vague and contradictory topos we have of the route. Our lack of Spanish skills didn’t seem to help the situation.
Sweating from 10 minutes of upward exertion to gain the wall, we both had silent doubts about our objective after feeling the heat. I tell Steven, “were gonna die without water up there.”
We start anyways after we find what we think is the route. I begin up into a reality almost identical to that of climbing at the Pinnacles; rocks are falling off, I’m runout, not sure where bolts are and all that classic Pinnacles drama. It feels really heady, with cruxy bulges, huge knobs that appear barely attached by mud, vertical sections above ankle breaking ledges, and good deal of dirt covering the holds and generally appearing to glue it all together. To make matters more scary the only rope we could find was one of Chris’s used 9.2 mm 80 meter sport ropes. It felt a little out of place at Riglos. I follow a line of nice newer bolts and after a 60+ meter pitch I gain a large ledge. I’m cursing how sandbagged that 6a+ felt.
I set off up the second pitch and notice a line of really chalked holds 20 feet to the left. I consult the iphone topos and decide to traverse over to that route. A traverse across a mass of loose rock puts us on the other line. There was an instant feeling of relief as I knew we had found the 5 star route. It was if we had just left the loose rock of the High Peaks of Pinnacles and emerged on the solidity of Cantaloupe Death. but this was Cantloupe Death on Steroids, massive knobs pertruded from the rock in every direction. With no lack of holds to choose from, progress was rapid. In no time at all we reached a perfect flat 4’ x 10’ ledge another 50 meters up. From this point the route overhangs for the next 200 meters.
The holds begged to be grabbed in every direction imaginable. The climbing was fun and playful. I felt so at home, I giggled myself up the wall from amazing knob to knob. We were on a overhanging playground, a jungle gym of river rocks which appeared to be barely attached, but rarely felt unsafe or loose; these things are way less attached than Pinnacles rock appears. The climbing remained 5.10 despite the increasing steepness. The bolts were often 10-20 feet apart, but solid and recently replaced.
The setting on the overhanging wall of enormous knobs was otherwordly. Large hawks and buzzards cruised the wall and rose in midday thermals. Daily life in the small village below went on as normal. Blossoming trees and terraced fields stretched far out into the valley below eventually fading into a haze. It was a place i wish If could stay at a little bit longer, or maybe that I could stay forever, but we were just visiting for a few moments carrying less than what we needed. Efficiency was our safety.
Before we knew it the crux pitch was upon us. The wall was at least 20 degrees overhanging with steeper bulges that intensified the exposure; the wall angled back even more for final moves. The ropes hung a scary distance out from the wall at the precarious hanging belay. Steven and I readied for the challenge ahead. We really really wanted to get this route clean.
I moved up a with a calm head, taking time to rest, moving fast when needed, and staying ready for the crux when it arrived. 15 meters up I reached a small alcove like ledge and the crux appeared to be a few crimpy moves over a bulge just above. I rested until little forearm pump remained and then fired the moves without problem. I told myself that was too easy. Steeper and steeper moves on enormous holds led me to a point where to bolts became close enough to aid, a definite signal that the last 20 feet would prove to be the crux.
I battled my way to this point and I was determined to not lose it now. I was so exhausted that I could only climb 5-10 feet before serious forearm pump returned. I found a halfway decent rest ten feet before the final lip of the overhang. I recovered what i could and got as psyched as I could. A muerte! I struggled up to the final bulging reaching off pumpy underclings to the lip only to find sloping holds. I struggled to put the final draw on and couldn’t clip it. I was about to succumb to the biting exposure, with a 95% surety i was going to fall. Pictures of the ensuing 40 foot whipper 1000 ft up momentarily flooded my brain. My arms had nothing left, I knew I was going for the ride. Yet somehow I summoned enough energy to put the rope in the draw. I palmed and grasped around struggling at a seemingly deadend sequence of slopey holds with a ledge just feet above. Just before I fell I stepped back in my head for a second, took an extra breath, and told myself I could do it. A last ditch move in desperation gave me a sloping hold with just enough resistance to keep me on. I was just barely attached to the rock by the smallest margins. Somehow more holds barley appeared. I screamed as loud as I ever have as a flood of emotion pushed me onto the ledge.
Steven made an amazing effort to get through the pitch, but succumbed to the forearm pump just below the top. It was so awesome to see his determination get him so far. I would say that we surpassed our goal of just making it to the top.
I am overwhelmed with the energy of a perfectly capped climbing experience. One of my proudest leads ever, I had to dig really deep to make it thorough the last bit. It was so good I cried. The route was so amazing. In fact everything about the Riglos experience was amazing.
We chilled on top for 30 minutes or so basking in the glory of our ascent. 30 mins of descending got us back to the village below. Where we dosed up on water and oranges.
Beer was in order so we made our way to El Puro, a famous climbers hangout. The walls were a history museum of Riglos. Hundreds of types of pitons, various bolts, route topos, photos of famous climbers, and much more grabbed our senses. We drank cold beers out of giant mugs, drank wine, ate bean soup, a main course of rabbit, cooled ourselves with ice cream, drank coffees, and chatted with the owner of El Puro.
We eventually paid a bill that seemed way to cheap and then began a two hour drive back to St Llorenc de Montgai. A few missed a few turns, some good music, and a lengthy discussion on how to describe what had just happened. It was an experience that was so perfect on so many levels that I feel like I can barely described it in writing. Los mallos de Riglos is not to be missed.
