Gozo or Ghawdex, climbing or living. By Stevie Haston.

Everlasting flowers.© Laurence Gouault.Haston

Things have different names, so do people, when there are different words or we use different names sometimes we get confused and don’t recognize what we are looking at, even if we are staring in the mirror. Plus we can be different for different people, we see their need or different understanding and feed them and wonder where the feast came from when we thought there was nothing in the cupboard.

Has climbing got anything to do with living? Not a funny question for me as that’s all I have ever done it seems. On this Island that has two names where I have been climbing nearly all my living time, the sea and the wind wash away many of questions that don’t really need answers.

‘Did I tell you of my visit to Ghawdex, vulgarly called Gozo. It was a most pleasant one., I drew every bit of it…it's coastal scenery may truly be called Pomskizillous and Grophibberous being as no other words can describe its magnificence’ A guy called Edwin Lear wrote these words a long time ago when Ghawdex not Gozo was even more magnificent  and Majestic than it is today. And by the way Edwin was born on the 12 of May and of course so was I, how renobulous!

These is a particular plant that grows on the island called Maltese Everlasting that may be my favourite flowering shrub, it is endemic to only a few cliffs in the world, and  it has as it's epicenter of total manifest munificence the top of my favourite climbs, how obvious and right is that. So far correct, yeah. Well no, cos it ain't Maltese Everlasting, neither is it Gozo Everlasting, it's gotta be Ghawdex  Everlasting, or more possible Underworld Everlasting.

Salt pan, © Inigo Taylor

As Andrew Marvel said ‘Our vegetable love would grow, vaster than empires and more slow.

The rock on Gozo, Ghawdex or what ever this little rock adrift in the sea of modern Europe is called, is very beau, it's varied and jeweled  with crystals, veined , marbled, has patches of intergalactic Teflon, interspursed with the roughest rock that resembles shark skin, it's damned lovely and really tactile, it feels you. And there we have it, let's Rock. Let's Dance, let's Live.

The incredible lightness of hope, by Stevie pessimistic Haston

Thanks to Inigo for those images, © Inigo Taylor

The island of Gozo where I am is beautiful, it's steadily getting over populated and at the end of May becomes so massively laden with dumb tourists that it is in danger of sinking, my only real hope is that aliens’ will abduct Gozo . Gozo is such a paradox for me,  it’s where I half grew up, where I wanted to get away from real quick and it's probably one of the three countries that I could now live in. For the record I could live in Northern Italy, southern France, and Gozo. Gozo isn’t even really a country unless it’s a country in your heart it's supposed to be part of Malta but the people are fiercely independent  and idiosyncratic. 

The rock on Gozo is fiercely beau, the sea is twenty shades of blue and another 50 of green, the light rebounds from clouds and sky to sea and back again creating lovely hues of perpetual hope and happiness. The sunsets are a pleasure that you want to stretch, so like Ulysses you don’t leave. Today I was on a stellar project called Phantom Lover it's so wonderful that I wish it was a  weird exercise machine, a perpetual route ,a fit climbers hamster cage wheel, the eternal pumpathon.

Anyway I have decided to hope that things turn out well for this planet, simply because it's good to be positive, and some people around me have given me pleasure. My daughter Kate came to climb with me, she escaped her responsibilities as a mum for a week and cheered me up with her enjoyment of the routes here.  I hope to climb with her more.

A while ago I decided to loose weight and it's slowly happening, this has given me hope that I might climb well again. For those of you who are trying to loose weight, it's worth it. You will feel light and start to fly, you won't be anchored to the ground. Keep at it. It's good to climb again. As part of the plan I have been doing Martial arts again and at one of the classes was surrounded by police officers, not generally my favourite people, I was pleasantly surprised how lovely and gentle they were, this gave me hope and reminded me not to judge people by their uniform or job or other detail. Anyway the Moon was big and bright the sun has been shining, the plants are green and bursting, the flowers are smiling and things are all roses (actually hibiscus) in my garden.

Hope you all have a great spring do good routes meet lovely warm people and have more fun and sucesss. The photo of the Turkish flag by Inigo is to remimd me that a smile is a crescent moon. The moon was upside down the other week smiling like mad, it was a good week.

Gozo Chalice, by Stevie supplicant Haston

Climbing on Gozo keeps giving me solace. A week ago I was depressed, today ecstatic !! The ordinary day becomes something more, by chance, the chance is Gozo, and it's called choice. You choose, or you loose.

Yesterday Katie visited the Underworld, and did 3 great routes, The gift of small things, The Kinky Dwarf  and Styx and Stoners, all 3  stars routes, all unique.

Today we went to Sopu Tower and Inigo wanted to take photos. With truth I didn’t, but you know you got to compromise and in the compromising we got a first ascent of  a route called The Inflatable Madonna 6c, poor rock leading to perfect bridging over a huge  chasm. 

Inigo tried to do it but  was defeated by careless and cavalier cleaning. We also did an ascent of Chalice of Malice 7a which despite its low grade. Continues to shock.

Thank you,

Have a nice day.

Normal abnormal Malta, by Stevie normal Haston.

So it's back to the sun, Britain is flooding, Malta is dry, surprise! Actually France was fairly gash, damp and boring, small snow, avalanche prone, and repleat with masses of great food. Fat had overtaken me, off to diet, sun, and rock.

A major problem was no drill! Still first day I cleaned a great new route at 7c+, then day two, a swim, and a run as part of an ongoing plan for alpine betterment.

Here is a few photos in no particular order, cleaning routes is fairly good for the soul but so is looking at things you wouldnt normaly see.

Just before  my little  trip a friend came over from Switerland a good extreme telemarker with a few nice mountain descents, hello mr Steve Hadik,and hello to all my friends in Verbier, I do miss the alps but not in a bad snow year. As for my lucky mates in the Dolimites who are having a good year, well great you lucky people, enjoy.

Quarry threatens Ariege peace, by Stevie Haston.

The climbing and tourism in Ariege, in my part of France, is part of our culture, and our wealth, now we are to have a Quarry in the middle, in the heart of all our beauty. So start shouting now.

Never mind that its in 'site a 2000 natura', and there are rare birds there, this doesn't matter. A wierd nefarious agreement has been struck, and the evil, noisey, dusty machine is due to start. 120 trucks a day one every four minuits in a peaceful hameu less than a hundred yards from houses! This is just behind, and adjacent to the parking for Calames cliff one of the oldest, and the most frequented in Ariege. Nobody local wants this, local inhabitants, climbers, walkers. 

Here are a few links, this is a disaster localy, do something if you can please.  

The link to the petition to sign and share, and an article in French which describe the  nuisances.

Voici un résumé des nuisances que causeront la réouverture de la carrière de Bédeilhac en Ariège dans une magnifique vallée classée "Site Natura 2000", dans un charmant village, et proche d'un superbe site d'escalade et de balades, alors si vous aimez vous balader, grimper dans des beaux sites comme l'Ariège signer la pétition! 

Spell Kukuczka, by Stevie Haston.

I was asked who the best Himalayan climber was the other day by two editors of magazines. I knew it was a loaded question, so I gave back a loaded answer. Kukuczka. Can you spell Kukuczka I asked? One could. I also did an interview with one of the most prominent mags, but I guess that won't be published, cos although that editor agreed with me 90%, it's way to against everything you read.

Anyway, 4 of the 8000 meter peaks in winter, before it became the last bastion of big marketing brands! It was all a long time ago, so perhaps you have every right not to know, and no one tells you right.

  

Ordinary perfect. By Stevie defect Haston.

What's more ordinary than a walk? Nothing! So I am depressed, it's low cloud, drizzle and grumpy me is going to go running, but not looking forward to putting waterproofs on. I prevaricate. 

Laurence comes home from the market and says there's good weather coming, so why dont I go up the mountain and check the snow? Yea, maybe, it might be ok, etc, what ever, but I get ready.

So the hill infront of zee house is an ordinary montagne à vache as we say in French, it's 1200 meters up and indeed in summer there's horses, sheep and cows right on the top. But before the top there's a mystical beech forest, then there's a grove of birch, and then a few lonely gnarled junipers. And today it was sublime.

The walk up the though the beach had lots of animal tracks, as in winter the animals come down for food. there were chamois tracks, badger and fox and I got to see one young deer. Some birds were chirping lower down, but it got colder as I got higher, and then at a certain point you know life stops apart from visitors.

The reason for the walk?  Exercise? Checking conditions? Therapy? Well, to the left of the ridge is a deep bowl and it fills full of magical fluff, and theres good riding in there, and the view from the top can be good, and it's better than a run.

Cold it was, the camera thingy froze, Laurence caught me up, and she drank all my water, she always does that! But she did tell me to go for a walk, so I thank her.

These birch all had a wind mark of snow, but it was melting as we went down, some of the most beautiful stuff is very ephemeral, a bit like a human life as viewed thru geological time. A shame that we are distroying everthing in our short orgasim of existance. But today I don't care, I had a very ordinary pleasent walk. Tomorrow I might ride the big bowl which is full of windblown fluff, which wont be ordinary, it will be the ride of the Valkyries, but then words are never that trustworthy a thing, and the bilberies under my board wont even know I have passed, and the last wind knarled juniper which is older than my great great grandfather wont even flutter as I pass.