Fontainebleau Virgins

We where all Fontainebleau virgins. Sarah lost her cherry on the ferry but she quickly found it and put it back on her tart. None of us knew what to expect. After a long but easy journey we found the campsite and so had the others. They where sheltering from the rain that had rudely interfered with their climbing. It was time to erect Sarah's big one, she skilfully co-opted the entire gathering to pump life into the impending erection. We pulled two large canvas sausages out of the car and assembled without the aid of instructions a small country chateau complete with kitchen, entrance foyer, en suite facilities and well stocked boarders. After such a Herculean feat we needed sustenance in huge quantities served to us. All nine of us headed off to town to find that most French of food, Pizza. We filled the small restaurant and dazzled them with our command of the French language (Shane, speaking French is a little more that giving your order in an outrageous French accent).

We woke to rain but eating was our aim. We needed baguettes, pain au chocolate pain aux rasin, strong coffee and hot chocolate and we needed it now. It was time to dust off the long dormant French and take on the cake shops and cafes. It was here that the gathered crowd found that Pete's French may be bad but that he speaks fluent cake shop! By the time our energy levels where restored and we where getting dangerously pastry dependant the rain had slowed to make us more optimistic about climbing. Heading for the rocks in convoy took a little longer that anticipated as the convoy principle degenerated in to a car chase worthy of a keystone cops movie. Eventually we arrived at the car park, disembarked and armed only with a baguette, chalk bag and climbing shoes we headed for the boulders. The sun started to come out.

A few hundred yards up the track was our first circuit. A white circuit. For kids. This was about our level for a warm up an introduction. No need to change just do it in trainers. We could not have asked for a better introduction. It was fun. Hopping over boulders. Following the arrows. Looking for the next arrow. Looking for the next number in the sequence. This was what Fontainebleau was all about. Enjoying the rocks in the forest. By mid afternoon we had moved to another set of boulders and the sun had come out to give us perfect conditions. Unfortunately Mark, Shane, Donkey Boy and Bob had to leave for the ferry but the rest of us climbed until we where unable to lift our arms. It was just too good.

Back at the Chateau a small drama was about to unfold. Trevor claims that he did not do the stopper on the fuel bottle up because he was fatigued. Sarah thinks it may have been part of an assassination attempt by the old chairman on the new, but what ever the truth is we suddenly found the corner of the tent engulfed in flames. The bomb was hurled through the doors leaving a trail of flames, Sarah tried to stamp them out but managed to set her shoes alight. Laura cried and Angela gave rational advice as the flames and chaos subsided. The only thing to do was to drink heavily.

French rain is similar to English rain in that it's wet and cold and stops you from going climbing. Time to bring plan B into operation. Looking for a fountain in Fontainebleau. Given the amount of rain falling this was going to be a very hard task. We looked all around the huge chateau (which was almost as large as Sarah's tent). We hunted round various cafes and in the climbing shop until we eventually found one on the main street. Plan B exhausted we moved to plan C. A visit to the Cyclops. This was a huge kinetic sculpture in the forest outside Millet de Floret and was well worth seeking out. It was still damp but we needed an infusion of sandstone boulders. Plan D was to visit L'Elephant to see if this lump of sandstone really did look like and elephant. Of course in the tradition of elephant hunters we had to go armed with BIG guns. All right they where baguettes but with a little imagination they where our elephant guns. We hunted though fields of natural sandstone sculptures until we stumbled across l'elephant. Out of respect for nature we refrained from bagging it and bringing the kill back home, mainly because we had eaten our guns. We rounded off our last full day with a meal in a very strange restaurant. Where we laughing at them, where they laughing at us, where they laughing with us. We will never know, we may never forget.

It was still raining but unperturbed we skilfully hid the chateau in the car and headed to Bas Curvier via a cake shop, we where now all addicted to pastry and the thought of the impending "cold turkey" was playing tricks with our minds. The plan was to wander round the rocks and generally enjoy the forest. The rain had eased by the time we got there and one or two grimpers where braving the rocks. There was some very hard bouldering going on here. We where entertained for about half and hour by an English lad attempting a 7a problem called the Helicopter, why the Helicopter you ask. Well that's what you look like when you miss the crux move and come spinning down to earth face down. This lad managed the manoeuvre four times until the rain came back to stop play. We made our excuses and headed for the ferry.

Will I go again?, Yes.

Do I feel differently about bouldering?, Yes.

Did the rain spoil the trip?, No.

Have I suffered pastry withdrawal symptoms?, Yes.

Pete