It has been a while since anything cool has happened in my life; as a matter of fact this year has ended at an all time low with me breaking my back, my father needing work done on his heart and all over the world fellow climbers loosing their precious lives.  As 2006 abruptly turned into a hopeful 2007 the waning days were shrouded in a cloud of dark and foreboding as our elite fell one by one into our memories instead of back into our lives with amazing achievements and unique personalities.  It was on this note that I decided to take a dream trip to El Chorro, Spain.  Friends indicated that I was in for a bounty of Spanish tufa filled limestone caves, long multi-pitch wonders and perfect weather just off the Mediterranean Sea. 

After a pre-climbing climbing trip from my home in Salzburg to quiet Osp in Slovenia just three and a half hours south, I knew that I was in terrible shape and in dire need of good old fashioned rock wrestling with friends.  So the plane landed in Malaga, Spain and my journey began with a comfortable train ride to the tiny town of El Chorro.  Forty five minutes later after winding through tunnels, small towns and a fading Mediterranean coastline I stepped off the train and was in my soon to be happy place.  I was supposed to meet friends at the Finca, little did I know that there were a few in the town (Finca happens to mean place of lodging or camping or something like that).  I find whether or not travel is supposed to be easy that when I go to new places that I seem to do everything twice.  This trip was no exception.  My friend Chris and I managed to ride trains over the same location while attempting to get somewhere new, when returning the rental car we did loop de loops from freeway to freeway and gas station to gas station each time getting closer to the rental car drop off point.  Ah, all little traveling hiccups make things more memorable.

Anyway back to the climbing trip.  The camping was at a climber’s camp with all the fixings.  The kitchen had plenty of pots and pans and burners to cook on, showers, clean water, a small store, bunk and tent spaces and plenty of folks psyched to be on the road again taking in a great climbing adventure.  This trip like my last one to Cuba was planned out to the tee, well maybe not exactly.  I didn’t even look at a guide book until I got there and I wasn’t really sure what I should expect other than the vague description that I mentioned at the beginning.  So after setting up the tent in the dark next to the sewer drain (the finca lies on the side of a olive tree filled hillside) getting an uneasy nights rest due to some snoring bastard nearby and waking up to the smell of… well you know, I found myself hiking through railroad tunnels to a wall called El Makinodromo. 

El Makinodromo just sounds cool and the hour hike did not let me down.  I was impressed by the limestone cliff line that ran upward from the tracks and gradually got steeper near the top of the mountainside.  The stone was featured with tufas, pockets, jugs, openhanded slopers and more tufas.  What a place to try to get back in to shape.  It has a southern aspect so the sun bakes the wall nearly the entire day and when the clouds roll on by cooling the temperature, the conditions are so right.  I especially liked the fact that every route that I got on lacked one thing and that was small holds.  This was what I needed to feel good.  There is no greater feeling than being unable to clip due to the tremendous pump in your forearms rather than not being able to hold onto the microcrimp that is slowly shredding your finger tips to the bone as you carefully pull up slack to clip your new highpoint.  El Makinodromo was a wonderful place to spend the entire day on routes of all grades with cool names like Trainspotting, Lourdes, Randi, and Atlas Shrieked.  I understand the train reference but the rest remain a mystery since my Spanish is slightly on the terrible side.  The day ended with our headlamps on trudging down the hillside thru the dark train tunnels, avoiding speeding trains and local police, and finally stopping by the local café for ice cream or drinks with those new friends that we made on the way.  El Chorro certainly treats you right.