Fontainebleau

My first visit to Fontainebleau was a convenient stopping off point to break the journey from Milan to Cambridge. I was there with Colin, and we used the opportunity to catch up with Fluffy, the french man still trapped in the flat lands of Paris.

Of course I had heard much of these rocks, seen the pictures and watched the videos so I had high expectations. I was not to be disappointed. Arriving without guidebook or the remotest knowledge of where to find the mythical rocks we drove around until we found some scruffy people with large foam pads on their backs. Some english guys pointed us in the direction of the free campsite of Curvier and we were set.

Fluffy arrived the next day, guidebook in hand and poff in bag. It was just as I had imagined it, and our task was to follow a circuit of 47 boulder problems marked with little blue numbers. Fluffy and Colin led off, easily solving the first two. I failed terribly, this obviously was not going to be as easy as I hoped. I jumped to some other easier looking problems to get into my stride, before finally managing to send the first two blues. We were then on our way, the first 20 before lunch, and then the rest after. French families darted energetically between trees springing over boulders before pausing to tuck into their fine looking picnics.

It was a hot day when we arrived, and it was hotter still in the afternoon. Each subsequent problem seemed more difficult than the previous, feet were expanding or rock boots were shrinking and had to be removed after each climb. We were running out of water and wilting. The sand surrounding the boulders was hot to the touch and the circuit proved to be just two problems too long.

That evening we enjoyed frivolous naked bathing under the small and only tap that seemingly sustained life on the small campsite.