So. The last time I wrote it was Saturday night and I was cooking tea up at the bunkhouse on our last night. Sunday came and everyone was knackered. Everyone that is, except Jonboy - who looked suprised when Rob mentioned it. I suppose thats what you get for being a rock warrior!

Sunday was a mint day for climbing. At least, it should have been had we been anything other than weeping fingered Zombies. Up early and out we went for the last time. Our pads were stashed near the bruno, so we quested through from the top, stopping to look at Practice of the Wild on the way. Warming up felt desperately hard, and I think we all got more enjoyment out of throwing pine cones at each other. As I reached the top of the de facto warm up traverse, James and Dylog sent what felt like tons of pine needles and forest detritus down over me. I am having E6 for that I reckon.

Warmed up, Ed and I have a quick foxtrot on la dance, and its then that I realise that I am pooped. Well and truly pooped. After a week of walking around the forest, it becomes minorly epic getting around laden with pad and so on. Magic wood is basically a talus scree slope partially covered in moss. So you are forever high stepping around roots and boulders - which is fine, but my spindly sport climbing hooves are feeling the pace today. I take my boots off for the last time and go do some spotting. Suprisingly, its pretty cold down by the bruno and I soon feel chilled to the core. Dylog and James put in some good attempts at pt2, but its rather too late in the day. Rob turns up and we quest off to electroboogie. I dont make it, being unable to face (be arsed) to walk up the hill. Besides, I sought it out earlier in the week. As I'm not trying, I'm not that interested. Rob isnt either, so with immunity, I retire to the bunkhouse an hour earlier to have a shower and pack.

When assembled we pick rob up from the campsite, leave the pads for jon and set off out of the Averstal valley. As soon as we round the corner the heavens open and it pretty much chucks it down all the way out of switzerland. Flight is 10 mins late, but compensated by the bags already being on the baggage carousel when we get through passport control. Its midnight when we get home and I feel a bit emotional that its over, but glad to be back.

Some pictures for you. The video will follow, when I have had time to put it together (a lot of crap). Some favorite pics :

Check out these vests which Ed Rob had made =
How gay is this picture? hommes in the forest
Really pleased with this pic of james on Piranja
This is where we lived for a week. Terribly built up and polluted
I dont know what to say really. This is how lots of the week was spent - giggling doing daft shit whilst other people were trying to climb. james is stood atop the hohenrausch boulder here. Hohenrausch is the crimps on the right
Dynamite! the obligatory Ben Moon locking on a bar pick. Particularly James' pursed lips and that my forearm blocks Dylogs head out!

So then, focus shifts to the next trip. The reason I have gone back to switzerland so many times is because its a style of climbing which I am good at. So, I can acheive my potential and theres less reliance on conditions - which, are generally good. You hear far less stories of people being rained or snowed off in swiss than you do in font for instance. I honestly believe I could climb 8b in switzerland, but I have spent quite a lot of time there over the last few years and it is chuffin expensive. Last night on the plane home Foley and I hatched a plan to raid le forest of fontainebleau towards the end of the year. And once the seed was sown I ruminated on how good it would be to get into font. Its much closer, and I have only been twice. Perhaps its time to learn to climb...