Lumír Fajkoš, Superdiretissima rope solo
Every cloud has a silver lining (?!). I won't dwell on this question here, as it could lead us/me philosophically far away and for a long time... However, its primary meaning quite accurately describes my season this year. In April, I broke my heel (yes, while climbing). It broke into several pieces, but fortunately, I didn't need screws or surgery. Even so, it meant a plaster cast and two months on crutches. The first month without putting any weight on it and the second with light weight-bearing. So, non-climbing entertainment was taken care of. At first, I thought, "Finally, I can start doing pull-ups and at least train my biceps". But the first month, it was out of the question, or rather, my body was in recovery mode, and besides, the idea of climbing a ladder with one leg to my training attic and jumping on one leg to the bar didn't really motivate me. Cut. At the beginning of July, I called Maťo Krasňanský to say that I would like to go climbing. Since my injury, I had been to Višňové once because it is close to the car and I could hobble there, and I also thought that falling into the air was safe. It was a good assumption, but the problem is the starts and finishes of the routes. My heel and ankle were still quite sensitive, and even a well-secured fall against the wall was out of the question. So I remembered Maťo, who was going to the Tatras with Jožo on e-bikes. And "you don't fall in the mountains", so it could be a good idea for a second convalescent rock climbing trip. Maťo surprised me a little by saying that instead of a leisurely trip to Popradské pleso or Bielovodská valley, we would go to Zelené pleso.
It is even marked as a cycle route, but we also met some "walking cyclists" who had not checked this information in advance... Great. So, on 6 July, we set off on the north face of Malý Kežmarský štít on the Superdiretissima route. I am climbing with a small rucksack on my back. And I am glad. Firstly, the loose rocks, rumbling blocks, rusty pitons and my own pro in places where you don't want to fall anyway, and secondly, long climbing in climbing shoes is not good for my ankle. Maťo prepare the tenth most difficult pitch and I lower him. I climb it as the second. Maťo gives it a try, but he doesn't send it. I try it to lead (it's an overhang and I like the pitch, which convinces me) and I send it. Maťo was working at heights the day before and doesn't have the power for more climbing, but he offers to belay the remaining pitches. I politely decline, as I don't want to tempt fate. Cut. On 14 August, I return from a family DWS (where you "only" fall into the water) holiday in Mallorca and on 15 August I leave for the Tatras for THT (JAMES Mountaineering Meeting). On 16 August, Mato and I managed to climb Superdiretissima in the ideal style. We take turns leading, and we both climb the most difficult pitch on the first try. Beautiful.
However, I have been sowing seeds for some time now, or rather, I have been slowly planting a forest for quite some time. In addition to x test climbs in the past, I planted my first serious tree in 2021 under the Kostolecký dóm called Zvon, the second Titanic and the third Katarzia (see here ). Due to poorer belaying (and the need to climb/carry friends and nuts), the rumbling rock (in the case of a fall/accident, my climbing partner will not be able to help me) and the length of the entire route (13 pitches), it is not entirely suitable for solo climbing. At least not for me. From a long-term perspective, I started climbing late, at the crags, and I am still essentially a sport climber (I have not climbed unsecured sections in the mountains, meaning I am not mentally accustomed to this type of climbing). In the short term, 4.5 months after breaking my heel, it doesn't help my head much either. On the other hand, solo climbing with/alongside DWS is one of the most interesting climbing disciplines for me. Compared to free soloing, both allow you to push not only your mental but also your physical performance quite far. Since DWS cannot be practised often (except by Chris and others like him), solo climbing does not have these geographical (a few places in the world/time of year/minimum distance of trip) and other limitations. Although LRS (nowadays used as an abbreviation for Lead Rope Solo) can be applied to almost any route, it obviously (of course, this is subjective) only makes sense for some.
Cut. On the morning of 28 August, I set off on Superdiretissima alone, well, not completely alone. I have a heavy haul bag with me – 4 litres of water, 2 ropes (single and half), friends, nuts, quickdraws, carabiners, ascenders, warm clothing, a sleeping bag, a sleeping mat, cooking equipment and food. The route is long by Tatra standards, with 13 pitches plus the climb to the top of Pavúková veža. When soloing with belaying, it is also necessary to climb each pitch, fix the rope at the belay station, remove some of the belays when abseiling and leave others, and refix the rope with a clove hitch so that the sheath does not wear through during subsequent abseiling. Refixing is also necessary for diagonal and traverse pitches. After rappelling to the original belay, it is removed and you abseil back up with a pulley.
And then there is the hassle of each re-fixed anchor, where you need to rest and loosen the sling. So I climb each pitch (whether up or down) a total of three times. But that's all assuming I climb the pitch on the first try. If not, the metre counter really starts spinning... Which is what happened to me on the very first pitch. I underestimated the length of the rope I had to climb with. I climbed up to the belay and looked at it for 3 metres. The terrain was easy, so under normal circumstances (with a short rope), the belayer would start climbing and we would climb those 3 metres simultaneously. But it would be quite complicated to explain that to the haul bag below. So I had no choice but to climb down the entire length and take more rope with me.
The next pitches went quite well, better than I expected. On the other hand, the conditions were worse than I expected. The wind was supposed to blow at 6-22 m/s, which is of course quite strong, but from the south-west. I didn't have a compass to check if I was really on the north face. Oh well. I went ahead anyway, more to test whether it would be possible to climb solo and whether the bivouac was okay.
So I continue in my wind tunnel. I'll soon reach the seventh pitch, where there is a sloping ledge, so I let the haul bag graze on a patch of Tatra grass and climb on. I climb up and secure another two pitches. Then romance on an inflatable slide at night, because the ledge is good, but it declines in two directions. In addition to sleeping secured in a harness, I also make a loop for my legs.
The next day, the wind is in my hair again, but at least I warm up by climbing two pitches. I do the ninth and then the key pitch. I climb through, set up my friends and wait at the belay for a break in the wind. I manage it on the first try.
OK, so I need to fight. I only have a few pitches left, but the accumulated fatigue is starting to take its toll. Not to mention that I can't hold on any longer, or rather, my heel/ankle in my climbing shoe. I'm saving the knife for cutting my climbing shoe or a pain killer pill for a worse situation. I still have some caffeine with me... The summit. No need to write anything else...
Descent via Nemecký rebrík. Great dinner and beer at Chata pri Zelenom plese (Green Lake Hut) - thank you to Tomáš, Sisa and the whole team for the perfect service. And of course to Maťo for the good things he consciously/unconsciously inspired me with and for answering the initial question of whether every cloud has a silver lining...
I would like to encourage all those who are injured, and not only them. Some time ago, I added Pavel "Pavúk" Pochylý's motto to my fingerboard: Impossible is just one of the possibilities. And coincidentally, P. Pochylý and J. Unger-Zrust are the authors of the first ascent of Superdiretissima in 1967.
PS: The classification was discussed on the internet. In the original topo of the free climb made by the Coubal brothers, it is 8(-?). Then something broke. Miro Peťo made the first free ascents and, "thanks" to comments on the internet, suggested a cautious 9-/9. The first repeat was made by Michał Czech, who rated it 9. We made the second repeat with Maťo, who also suggested 9. However, the route is not just about this length, or rather, it is very complex, and a grade 9 performance (for us sport climbers) is not enough...
Lumír Fajkoš
climber and sales rep at Singing Rock
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