Our first gym, I mean crag destination was the Gorge De Loup outside of Nice, in southern France. For the first five days I sat in the car two hours each way two and from the cliff to sit around at the base and watch people rock climb. After my first forced break of the trip I was finally able to get my moccasin on my left foot and do a little pulling myself. We stayed in Nice for about ten days, climbing and jumping into the majestic pools made by the river at the bottom of the gorge mid-day when it was too hot to climb. We stayed with a friendly local who lived in “old Nice” almost too close to the gelaterias and patisseries for comfort. We swam in the Mediterranean and hung out until it was time to move on. My ankle wasn’t healing but I was having a good time.

My main goal of the trip was to climb, or climb on, the notorious Realization or Biographie, whatever you want to call it. But after suffering my minor debilitating ankle injury and just not feeling like I was in good enough shape in general, I had my doubts. I remember Jon and I talking about Ceuse before going. He said “Yeah, we can get on Bah Bah Black Sheep, you know, some of those climbs… you can get on Biographie, make progress on that. It will be fun, I’m psyched.” I nodded my head in agreement. Sending a lifetime project like Biographie was not feeling so likely at the moment.

So we left Nice behind and started a new chapter in the trip. I didn’t make the 45-minute approach the first day to spare my ankle and upon Jon and Gabor’s return I was sprayed down with tales of sickness, ranging from all points-off dynos to close attempts on Realization. The next day I took the hill with a new found motivation, and a slight throbbing that pulsed all the way up my calf.