You never forget your first time…
Val was shouting and shaking my tent. My eyelids hadn’t felt this heavy in a long time. Crawling out of my sleeping bag, I surrendered myself to the faint light of the morning and the sudden cold air hitting my face once I opened my tent door.
We had pitched the tent under darkness, but now in the faint glimmer of sunrise I was able to see the surroundings around basecamp. I know I had already spent time among these cliffs, but today it felt like a new experience. I had walked below and above the cliffline assessing access and the potential of different sectors, but this time, I had the first chance to finally get face to face with the rock.
Val getting things going in the morning - Photo by Aleksandra Wierzbowska
I enjoyed familiarising myself with the scouting process of taking geolocated notes and photos using the OSMTracker. During scouting, we geolocated the most apparent features on a map so that we would know where to assess the access from the top, rather than playing a guessing game. If Val hasn’t convinced you to buy a copy of the newly released Dilijan National Park map (first map of the region since the days of the USSR), he will; I love looking back at our map with all the annotated information regarding access and rock quality.
Back to the crucial part of the story, what did the Team do this time? After a to-be-expected first morning faff at camp, I headed confidently to where I expected to find the rock features we had decided to get a closer look at first. I was feeling confident because of our accurate scouting.
Contrasting this same feeling of confidence, there was the awareness that I was in charge of a lot more people than usual, and this would have been the first day we were actually working together. Aleks and Jan were already filming and observing so closely that I felt mechanical and struggled to think and build that first anchor as quickly as I am used to. Finding solid gear can be hard when there is not yet an official line. It takes more time than usual since I have to obsess over rock quality and placements that haven’t been tested before.
Peter getting too familiar with the rock - Photo by Janek Kedzia
Navigating a sea of choss lining the top of these cliffs in the attempt to find a few hundred metres of pristine limestone can be absolutely nerve-wracking. Normally you do sketchy things like that with your usual climbing partner, but in this case we’re all suddenly thrown in and forced to trust each other as quickly as possible.
It’s also probably worth mentioning when Val first talked about these cliffs, he estimated the walls were between 50 and 300 meters. Having seen areas of these cliffs with larger walls than this one, we thought it could only be about 100 metres.
As I kept on abseiling and the first 100 metres of rope was coming to an end, I started second-guessing myself, my confidence started fading and I questioned: ‘Am I in the right place? Shouldn’t I have reached the ‘good’ rock by now? Where am I going?” Once Flo joined, we got the map out, and by the look of it, we were in the right place. The daunting idea of these cliffs being so much bigger than we had thought hits me. Before I could get overwhelmed by the consequences of this, we finally stumble on the first bit of good rock.
Peter building a rebelay, before abseiling down a new section - Photo by Janek Kedzia
This is it. We were above a buttress of solid limestone, and it was hard to contain the excitement of being there. I jumared up to the last rebelay where Flo was waiting for me with another 100 metres of static. Here I set two anchors with two lines going down the face so we could get people to descend at the same time and document these first moments of the expedition. Descending and ascending multiple times, I also managed to get an idea of how comfortable people were at these heights.
Though I didn’t have the pressure of cameras over my shoulder, having to keep track of everyone as they traverse along different sections of the ledge to reach the anchor and then clip into different points can be quite stressful.
The rock felt solid, grippy and sharp, with patterns of erosions reminding me of what I experienced only a few weeks ago in Pembroke. I lowered myself below a roof, and I could see holds! Glorious crimps waiting to be pulled on. Come 11:00 the sun starts getting unbearable for some of us and as everyone was slowly ascending the rope I decided to start retrieving the lines and cleaning the route so that we could explore another area in the afternoon.
A very curious Val welcomed us back into camp with a table full of food. As we stuffed our faces with lavash, ajvar and veggies, Val told us about his productive morning (are you even surprised?) of reorganising food and latrine digging.
Val l, excited to be the first member of the team abseiling down into the waterfall - Photo by Peter Rosso
When there’s no wind, the heat is unbearable between 12-4pm so we spend the afternoon waiting for a chance to escape the suffocating heat. This was a chance to nap under the tarp and reflect deeply on what to do in the afternoon. At 4pm Val, Tad and I finally gathered the energy to fight against the heat and growing sluggishness. All geared up, we were ready to abseil into the shade of a nearby waterfall.
Again, I struggled to find anchors but I was enjoying the process of moving around the cliffs attached to a rope looking for the safest descent. It took some time but once I was at the height of the waterfall, there was no doubt it was better than what we had imagined. Tad is always excited to be out on the cliff, and Val was over the moon. Since they were both looking forward to seeing this particular area for quite some time, I sent them down first while I was trying to work out if we could lower ourselves on the opposite face next time.
The sound of water continuously crashing down a 20-meter drop made me think of my first experience climbing a sea cliff. That sound once scared me, yet now it had become a calming melody. The rock in this area had been smoothed by the continuous erosive action of the water in months when rains are more frequent. The sheltered nature of the rockface offers shade all day, but the rock did not feel wet or humid.
This time I struggled to find any distinct feature, but it did not matter. I was in a beautiful place, and I was excited about it. Perhaps I’ve numbed myself by spending so much time in the mountains surrounded by beauty. The realization of the setting sun snapped me out of my happy place, and I started ascending the rope. The repetitive motion of pushing an ascender and pulling on it can be very calming, and over time, it started feeling nearly as second nature as walking. Under darkness, we reached the top anchor and slowly made our way to camp where Flo was waiting with dinner.
Aleks and Janek, our photographers, being photographed - Photo by Peter Rosso
It’s hard to believe that all of this is actually happening. Throughout the whole year, I spent so much time waiting for this to happen, looking at pictures of the cliffs and wondering what I would see there. Now after a whole day going up and down a rope, I realize that I don’t have the time to see all of it. There is just too much rock! Hopefully I will soon find a line that will inspire me.
We have limited time and bolts, and I am picky by nature, so hopefully I find something that tickles my imagination, and I find worth bolting. With my head overloaded by these thoughts, the tiredness of the day makes me fall asleep, and before I realize it, it’s morning already.
Val was forced to remain at camp as he felt sick, so I headed to the cliffs with Aleks, Jan, and Tad, while Flo took off for an morning walk below the cliffs searching for inspiration.
Peter inspecting the waterfall and pissing off the photographer cause he can't smile - Photo by Aleksandra Wierzbowska
Aleks and Jan couldn’t stop taking pictures of the waterfalls. While they were busy assessing the light taking photographs, I started reassessing the only visible series of features I saw the previous day. I was drawn by this thin, fragmented diagonal crack which may be possible. My hands were running down the rock, looking for any friction that could give me hope for a route up this smooth face. Then my thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Tad shouting, and I had to snap out my incredible dream of a send and go back to building rebelays.
At this point it was already 10:30, both Flo and the sun had caught up with us. While I was assessing the best direction at which to continue our exploration, the ledge felt more like a lounge with the rest of the team lying in the sun listening to Flo talk about her spectacular day, and others were looking around enjoying the views.
Time was passing so quickly, and I couldn’t stop thinking of the eventuality of me being too slow. I was unnerved by the idea of having to move on the chossy section of the cliffs and find another solid belay not only for myself, but for the rest of the team too.
Passing by a ledge, I wanted to see if I could descend further to minimize the amount of rope used, but reached the end of the rope hanging freely in the middle of a quartz face. Once again I jumarred my way back up to build an anchor at a suitable spot I had seen earlier. With the newly positioned anchor, Tad, Flo and I descended back down to the quartz section and on our way decided to remove a loose block in our path. If you haven’t seen the video, here it is! Recalling it, what concerned me was not the size, but the time it took to hit the ground. The scale of the face became more evident once Flo showed us a picture she had taken earlier that morning with my orange uniform little more than a dot on the streaky limestone cliff.
Peter abseiling down a new face - Photo by Aleksandra Wierzbowska
After a lunch break back at camp, I returned to the lowest rebelay to clean the anchors and retrieve the gear. The following day, Flo was set to take charge and explore the steep slabs she had discovered that morning that had the identifying feature of bubbly depressions in the rock acting as the only holds.
Things are falling to pieces, and the team is slowly building a synergy which can only bring us to work better together. I am sure I am not the only person that feels slightly out of their comfort zone, but this is often at the very nature of what an expedition comes down to. I can only say that for now, I am lucky to be surrounded by such a good group of curious and energetic people ready to get on this virgin rock as soon as possible. - P.