We left the pub at an unfamiliar hour intending on an early start. With the route baking in the afternoon sun we planned to be climbing as it rose from the Mediterranean. The law had a different idea. Apparently we’d parked in a zone occupied once a month by a market, or so the lack of our rental car and the assembling of stalls seemed to suggest as we gazed in awe at the street in the predawn light. This was confirmed after a kilometer walk with all our gear to the local Police station, the car had been impounded but a 100 Euro would clear things up and they’d even be so kind as to phone us a cab. We would be starting considerably later than intended.

There was nothing to indicate a brilliant climb ahead as we searched for the start in full morning light. The allotment of pitches meant I would have the first two and it would start with a slabby crux. I was thrilled and moments later I was starting again. I promptly returned to the crux, found the missing hold and pulled through to the ledge above leaving a trail of blood as the breaking hold sheared the skin off the back of my knuckle. The climbing above eased as I unsuccessfully tried to stop the bleeding with chalk, it was looking to be a very long morning.

I taped up at the belay and was soon off in search of the next anchor. A storm the previous weekend had erased any traces of recent climbers so I was genuinely thrilled when a crack presented itself on turning a corner. The bolts seemed oddly foreign and the roof at the top yielded easily. The shade was quickly receding across the Peñón but as we sat atop the pillar with the bulk of climbing above I munched on my cucumber and inhaled the exposure, the “Costa Blanca” was turning out to be as good as advertised.

I followed the next two pitches through somewhat scrappy ground, enjoying the view and attempting to eye the line out of the cave looming above. It was now hot, easily 30 °C and I downed the last of my water before leaving the belay. The exit to the cave is steep and with only 4 bolts visible on the 35 m pitch there was a definite sense of anticipation as to what lay above. The crux soon presented itself and I was fondling the pocket’s edge with my fingertips as my right foot slipped from the unseen foothold in the cave below.