A few hours into a 10 hour, cross-Atlantic flight to Croatia, my mild claustrophobia started kicking in. With a 25o plus pound man to my right, encroaching on my limited space, the man in front of me sleeping with is chair tilted all the way back in my lap, and both Kerry and the man to her left sleeping, I was trapped. My pulse quickened a bit, and I started taking shallow, desperate breaths. Anxious, and afraid I was going to freak out on the plane, I had to take control. I closed my eyes and took slow and deep breaths. Most importantly, I refocused, trying to ignore my pinned legs and inability to move, and imagining what was awaiting us at the end of the flight. I let my mind go, and it landed where it usually lands - at the base of a rock climb.
I pictured myself climbing out of the ocean, and starting up a gently overhanging wall of limestone. The idea of deep water soloing and everything it symbolizes for me - unencumbered movement, freedom, endless possibilities - seemed to be a perfect counterbalance for the my current situation, and my panicky state slowly subsided. Thoughts of perfect limestone, blue seas, and a new culture to absorb helped carry me through the rest of the flight (with a little help from some bad in-flight movies).
Deep water soloing has always been the form of climbing that has most captivated and amazed me. I grew upon the river of the Texas Hill Country, and spend a large chunk of my youth splashing, jumping and snorkeling in the Frio, Guadalupe and Medina Rivers. Being in the water is second nature to me, and I've always found being in a body of water liberating in much the same way I feel about climbing. So when - after having started climbing a couple years earlier - I first heard the term 'psicobloc', and saw video of Klem Loskot climbing 60 feet above the ocean in Mallorca, Spain, I was immediately floored. This was the purest, most exhilarating thing I could imagine. A whole new realm of possibilities opened, and I knew this was something I had to do.
And now, I was travelling across the globe to fulfill those fantasies. While the karstic coastline of Croatia offers almost limitless potential for DWS, there were two main spots I was hoping to check out. Sustipan - a smallish cliffband, but just a 10 minute walk from where we would be staying in the city of Split - and Cliffbase - a limestone paradise on the island of Hvar. Unfortunately we may have been a bit optimistic in our hopes for the weather, and planning this trip in November (the only time Kerry could get time off, though). The conditions weren't ideal this time of year, and we had a few days of rainy and windy weather severely limiting the amount of time we could climb, or even just swim in the stunning Adriatic Sea. Despite the chilly water, and cool temperatures, I was determined to get some climbing in. After our potential climbing days in Split were all rained out, my fingers were itchin' for some crimpin' by the time we took the ferry ride to Hvar Island.
Once on the island, we made a beeline for Cliffbase, which might be the most dream-like place I've ever visited. After a 15 minute hike in from the small village of Sveta Nedjelja, you arrive at a small house sitting below an endless band of limestone. This is the home of Miroslav, the owner of Cliffbase, and also a climbers hostel of sorts. Cliffbase is an ideal spot for adventurers of all kinds - there are over 100 sport routes here, fantastic snorkeling, slacklines can be rigged over the ocean, and maybe half a mile of DWS cliffs. It was time to have some fun.
We swam across the sheltered cove created by jumbled boulders rising from the ocean, and positioned ourselves on a nice large boulder near the base of some of the best looking limestone. Despite how the rock looks in pictures, it isn't sharp at all. It surprisingly had a slightly polished texture, but the abundant features, incuts and meaty slopers make up for the less than perfect friction (but with wet feet and hands, friction is never ideal while DWS). The climbing style was my absolute favorite, a style I tend to call 3-dimensional climbing: climbing big features, moving between different planes of undulating rock, using lots of push-pull opposition, heel hooks, knee bars and all varieties of interesting body positions and techniques.
Exhilarated to finally be here, living this dream, I started climbing. The thrill of new stone, intriguing movements, taking on the postcard-perfect scenery, gaining elevation above the calm, blue sea, reaching that one last jug and then....the splash. I climbed several outstanding lines, the easiest being about 5.10ish, the hardest being 11ish, but all would be good climbs regardless of their setting. I was psyched, and ready to climb until my fingers bled and my skin was pickled from the salt water, but I knew this day wouldn't last too long. Kerry was already sitting atop the boulder, shivering, and I could feel my body temperature quickly dropping. I tried to generate some body heat by doing long traverses at the base of the climb before climbing up, but that didn't seem to help. After squeezing in a about 12 climbs, I was violently trembling as if I had Parkinson's disease. We swam back to the land, dried off, bundled up and hiked out.
A few days later we took advantage of off-season rates and rented a tiny little boat and took it out for a cruise. We puttered along a few islands within sight of Hvar City, but then made our way to the coastline west of the city, where there were some obvious cliffs jutting out of the water.
The rock on these cliffs was a bit different, a few tufas and features, but in general a little sharper and crimpier. Unfortunately I hadn't brought my shoes, which would have helped a lot for these balancy face climbs. Still, I jumped off the boat and had some fun.
All told, I didn't to climb nearly as much as I had hope this trip, maybe 20-25 climbs in the two days I was able to climb. Each climb I did, though, was a true experience and something to keep me inspired for a long time. This trip will keep my imagination fired up, and keep alive that spark that drives us to chase after crazy ideas and seek out adventure. I've already got some ideas on how to make my next trip a little more successful, and even if I never do make it back here, I will never stop planning my return.
A video of a few climbs from Cliffbase:
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