Climbing La Demande

Here’s a story about an accomplishment that was nowhere near the cutting edge of human limitations, but felt pretty darn good anyway.

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The first time Seb and I went to the Verdon we did what everyone else does when they go somewhere new: we read the UKC destination guide.

The Verdon Gorge, according to the author, is the birthplace of modern sport climbing; and we were to climb THE classic of the area. 12 pitches that follow the crack system from the gorge floor to its rim, widening into airy, intimidating chimneys in the final pitches. 330 metres of limestone with 60 years of polish: La Demande was our objective for the trip.

The first time Seb and I went to the Verdon we were also rookies when it came to multi pitch climbing. Okay so we’d ticked off a few handfuls of routes – we’d even done one together – but we couldn’t help wondering whether we’d overestimated our competence as we leafed through Sport Climbing by Pete Hill at the campsite, recapping our ropework. The first abseil down to Jardin des Ecureuils was neither smooth nor casual and our progress back up again was as painstakingly slow. That 150 metre 5C felt rather long and difficult, but was very short and easy compared to our big objective.

A few days later we tested the waters with a route that would give us an idea of La Demande’s style. L’Offre was put up in 1969: a meandering ‘easy and pleasant’ climb with old fashioned bolting, or so the guidebook said. Our biggest mistake was leaving our trad rack in the car: it’s hard to appreciate the movement when you’re climbing bolt to bolt and I loudly regretted not buying health insurance on almost every pitch. When the rain came in a few days later and scuppered our chances of climbing La Demande, I was secretly relieved. Sure we went home empty handed, but with a credible excuse.

When you miss out on a goal its significance tends to swell disproportionately until it feels like the everything, ever, hinges on your success. When a 3 week trip last year put La Demande back on the cards, it all felt a bit ‘now or never’.

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From the start of the trip I couldn’t get La Demande out of my head: every route was a test and every fall was a reason not to even try. But with suns all over the weather forecast, we had no excuse to swerve it.

Then all of a sudden it was Sunday evening: we were driving off to camp at Point Sublime where we overlooked the paradisaical view below, instead setting our alarms for 6am, sorting through our racks and photographing pages from assorted guidebooks which I saved into a folder called ‘La Demande’ on my phone. Lying in the van my stomach cringed with anticipation of an exam I wasn’t prepared for and this guy Philippe’s tale of the team who’d been airlifted off the route ran round and round my head. I remembered all the UKC logs that said things like ‘this route is the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life and I normally onsight E2s upside-down’ and let my imagination run away with me.

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After breakfast we racked up almost gravely and marched through the 670 metre tunnel of the Sentier Martel by torchlight, startling the enormous toads whose great disguise was to be completely motionless. Finally the planning part was over, the relief of being in the actually-doing-it stage set in, and it dawned on us that we were actually trying to do this thing we’d been thinking about for well over a year.

It would be cool if all our doubts subsided when we pulled on, replaced by a cool confidence that we definitely would make it to the top and definitely by nightfall… But that’s not the nature of big goals. Over time we got into a rhythm: Seb’s lead, my lead, then Seb’s, then mine again, and the pitches began to flow by, following the crack system up the immense gorge.

I felt like the coolest person in the world on pitches 6 and 8, then again on pitch 10 when I found myself back and footing further and further from my gear in the infamous chimneys, glancing down at the air below my feet and wondering why in God’s name Ron Fawcett would solo something like this. Granted I felt a little less cool when I faffed with gear, tearily contemplated the back and footing bit, and built a belay 3 metres below the top (my zealous gear placing and terrible route-reading had caused some some colossal rope drag)… But after 10 and a half hours of climbing we were surrounded by cairns next to a little scrawl on the rock that said something along the lines of ‘c’est fini’ – it’s over. We felt invincible, proud, elated… Well actually we felt really tired, but in a invincible, proud and elated way.

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La Demande isn’t the hardest or longest route in the world, we weren’t the first or quickest people to climb it, we didn’t do it in a ground-breaking style and I’d be astonished if anyone in the climbing world was particularly moved by our ascent.

In fact, nothing about Seb and I climbing La Demande was special to anyone other than Seb and I. But for a while climbing that route felt like the most important thing in the world, and that was precisely why it was worth doing.

Stay safe!

– Hati

PS. Thanks to Jesse and Colton for happening to be at the top of the crag when we topped out and driving us 10km out of your way to our car – the happiest of coincidences!