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Viva Sagres! The first five days in Portugal were spent on the most Southwestern tip of Europe. Everyday was a slow start with breakfast in camp under a Canopy of trees that opened up like a tunnel creating shelter from the wind and sun. After breakfast we would head to a café for a quick coffee and then we would mash to Corgis in hope of dry rock.
There manages to be an odd phenomenon for perfect conditions at these sea cliffs, but it was so good we would climb even if the conditions were only marginally climbable. Plus the lack of climbing in France had me willing to go to great lengths. Tides from the Atlantic Ocean would lap along the cliff where we peacefully passed the first two days. Generally in the afternoon the wall would start to glisten with moisture and we would try our luck at the Parade Grande.
Chris and I rapped into a stunning 7b on the Parade Grande, only to find that the conditions climbing out would be like grappling with a bar of wet soap. No matter it was fun and if things were perfect all the time we would have no appreciation for adventure. At this point I hadn’t the slightest clue what the next day would have to offer, but I knew that it was always going to be good. Leo and Primo our two most nonchalant Portuguese friends were exposing us to the best of Portugal; the Pizza Pazza, Tasca de Calvesco, crepes from the Dromudario, beautiful beaches (or bitches if you’re from Portugal), and of course the sea cliffs of Sagres.
I am back in Colorado, but it never seems like I am in one place for very long.