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Weird scenes inside the gold mine – one of the best secret spots in Swiss climbing, the Jansegg, has received it's 9a+ crown.

One of the best secret spots in Swiss climbing, the Jansegg, has received it's 9a+ crown.

 

 
 In the middle of the crux

 

The mission weird scenes inside the gold mine was blessed from the very first day I tried it. In April two wolves crossed our way in the still entirely snow covered and untouched valley of Jansegg. This was definitively weird. But sheer belief would not be enough to make it to the top of this line, I would have to use my head, too. But for the beginning there was especially belief (as usual).

A lot of belief. So much of it, that still far from sending the existing line or even the crux sequence, I bolted it 10 meters further up. I considered the first part too easy for the whole summer that I wanted to spend for reasons of time rather here than in the Gastlosen vis-à-vis.And the route became even more logic like this. I used a little bit my head to figure out the new moves but there was not much to think anyway, all I had to do is shut my head off and juuuump. And in particular hold this side jug that was orientated in the wrong direction and always slipped out of one's hand in the very last moment (taking a lot of skin with it).

The new sequence with a nearly no hand rest on a single lock off hook and the jump was the perfect completion of weirdness concerning the moves. After the first Crux on the blank wallpractically without any feet (the only one having been shot by Swiss artillery), four cross moves, one foot lock, one toe hook and a one finger pocket inside a bigger one. I never felt so fucked up even the day after trying a project than as in this one.

Up from then the scenes on the rock stayed kind of the same, just getting closer to sending it. Those around however kept changing. Vultures passing, falcons fighting eagles just above, marmots running into my feet, herds of chamoises anyway. A helicopter fighting fire all day long (in the wholly green Swiss Alps). Cinema as usual on that giant silver screen that form the Gastlosen north face.

I fought myself into a even better shape than eight months of intense bouldering had left me in and by JulyI was able to send the first crux and on the same day even almost the jump. But then I injured myself a little bit, we organized our good bye party, we partied it, we lived through week ends of even much weirder trips and equipped buses we would ship to South America in Autumn and my climbing rhythm got down to once a week. And this isn't even for a occasional climber as I am not enough to hold a shape like this. What didn't that I had lost my belief.

I tried an I tried but then time became short. At the 5th of September we would head off to India and trying seriously more often than once a week didn't make sense. Too intensive. I sent the first part up to four times a day but the jump threw me off every time. I slowly got nervous.

It wasn't my brain that pulled me out of my misery. I have the luck to have a very intelligent girlfriend, much smarter than me. She reminded me of this little crimp half way of the jump that was constantly evolving. It was the only part of Jansegg with not that good rock and by this time the crimp had lived a so called Santa Linya effect. It had become better in braking. It was still shitty but I love shitty crimps and I soon found out a sequence that perhaps for a good jumper isn't even easier. For me it was.

The only problem was, that now that I had disarmed the latter crux, the first quite bad rest point got wet. It became the only wet part of the hole wall and seemed to be determined to stay it. Still in the last days of August. On the 16th day up at Jansegg I found myself nearly sending the first crux with a humid right hand and after bad resting in the second go of the day. Perhaps my belief hadn't been strong enough. My baby daughter (who doesn't like it at all when I climb) was sleeping her second and last siesta of the day and so I already wanted to pack our stuff but as she kept sleeping Adrian convinced me to give it a last chance. After 20 minutes of rest. I had the impression to have gotten really close to relieving jug, when I noticed that two of my fingers where still crimping on it's edge. The rest then was standard procedure with lots of dopamine in my veins that I even couldn't cry out at the anchor, my baby still sleeping down there.

The hardest route in my life, my first 9a+, and I just smiled down like a stoned monk under the wow of silence. But it's a good way to cheer up here in the magic and for its part likewise silent valley of Jansegg.

In the end it was neither belief nor was it smartness that brought me up in this very moment. Perhaps it was just the cute sleeping talisman down in the grass, but probably it was the fact that the route (that I could have sent ten times before if I had known the right beta a little bit earlier) was not at my very very limit (with a wet hold and a suboptimal rest of just 20 minutes).

Perhaps it was just meant to end like it started. A little bit weird but somehow blessed. The way it should be in the gold mine of fine high end climbing. Jansegg, I'll miss you when I'm gone.

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