...the famous or rather, infamous lyrics of the Tenacious D song, 'F*ck Her Gently' conjure lots of images & ideas. None of which are related to the article below I hasten to add. No, below is not a tale of sexual exploration and lust on the Spice Island. Below is a tale of my travels to unclimbed* shores, looking for something steep to pull on, deep in the heart of the Indian Ocean. And so...
...It's here. Finally. I've promised to write about my bouldering experience in Zanzibar since August last year. Admittedly, I've been a little lax in getting this one from my head through the keyboard and onto the screen, but you know what they say, good things come to those who wait.
In April 2010 I was given an absolutley incredible gift for my birthday from my equally incredible partner Amy. We were to embark on a trip to Tanzania & Zanzibar later in the year to work with community projects that housed and educated orphans in the area. The trip was to last three weeks (...we both wished it could have been longer, but were limited by work commitments) and would spend around one week on the mainland of Tanganyika (more commonly known as Tanzania) and two weeks on the island of Unguja (more commonly know as Zanzibar).
Now I don't know about you, but the first thing that crossed my mind when I found out that I was away for three weeks was ... what about climbing?! I immediately began scouring the internet looking for any nuggets of information about climbing in Tanzania or on the island of Zanzibar, there was (and still is) very little. The only leads I had were two photos I had managed to find, one of a very steep looking, sea battered shore line and the other, an over exposed shot from the HotRock website. There was no talk of locations, or any developed bouldering areas anywhere I looked.
Optimistic (as always) I packed some old shoes, a chalk bag, and my trusty Lapis brush ... just in case.
After almost two weeks of touring and working in the orphanges I was starting to get withdrawal symptoms. We had seen some emotional, incredible and harrowing sights and I needed my cathartic dose of climbing. Even pull-ups on door frames and shimmying up one of the phenomenal BaoBao trees couldn't fill the void I'd been left with.
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| Venturing into the massive branches of the BaoBao tree |
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| The author in the heart of the BaoBao tree (approx 10m up) wishing he had a rope on (or at least a helmet!) |
We had been working hard on the island of Zanzibar and were in need of a rest. The group of volunteers that Amy and I had grown friendly with were heading to the North of the island for the weekend to a place called Kendwa Rocks. Kendwa is known for it's crystal clear waters, brilliant white sands, palm trees, beach huts and more importantly ... it's beach parties. The very conservative, Islamic hustle and bustle of Stone Town (the capital of Zanzibar and the town we were staying in) was amazing, a true cultural experience and a magnificent place to reside but Amy and I were exhausted. We fancied a break. We were in need of a little time to let our hair down whilst having a laugh in a relaxed and more liberal setting.
We were going to Kendwa.
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| The perfect place to relax. Kendwa, Zanzibar |
On arriving in Kendwa we were met with everything we were promised. Beautiful beaches right out of the front door of our chalets, hammocks in the sun, traditional local fishing Dhows providing perfect photo opportunites and a healthy supply of cocktails ... lush. It truly was paradise. Ever the adventurer I wanted to go for a wander up the beach and see what else I could find.
As I ambled along I was met with a steep limestone face, around a metre high, rising up out of the sand. Amazing. Weird, but amazing. On closer inspection it looked to be what was part of the old reef, where the sea had once been many years ago. It carried on for literally the whole length of the beach from where I was stood looking Northwards up the island. The most exciting part? It got bigger!
I wasn't really sure what to expect but this looked similar to one of the photos I had seen. Grey rock that got gradually higher and turned more orange in colour the further it went ... steep but not particularly high ... Was this why they called it Kendwa Rocks?
About 2 kilometeres further up the beach the rock was now between 2.5 metres - 4 metres in height in some spots, overhanging by about 3-5metres. Locals were using it to shade themselves from the harsh equatorial sun, sitting in the soft sand beneath. This was looking better by the minute.
I walked into the sea to get a panoramic view of the rock in it's entirity trying to locate the place where I thought would yield the best/any climbing. A position right at the far end of the beach where some of the local 'wide-boys' were chilling out looked to be the best choice. I wandered over for a closer look at the rock and also to ask the blokes if they would mind me coming back with my shoes and chalk to climb on it. The rock was covered in features and the locals (who appeared to be smoking a rather large conical shaped cigarette) didn't seem to mind ... although language was an issue. After some creative miming, a couple of deadhangs to demonstrate and a lot of giggling (from them) I figured I had their approval. It was on.
I waltzed back down the beach towards our chalet with a spring in my step and started to get a bit excited. Was I finally going to get some climbing in?
20 minutes later after a jog and some stretching to warm up I was back at the same spot equipped with my kit. The 'wide-boys' seemingly stoned and rather curious as to what I was about to do shuffled from underneath the shade and respite of the rock and formed an audience in the scorching heat.
I inspected what looked to be an obvious line up a wide prow. Scanning the petrified reef for holds, I planned out a rough path from bottom to top, there seemed to be enough to get me there. I brushed and chalked a couple of the more obvious holds and began to get myself 'in the zone'.
I perched myself as far under the overhang as I could, found some starting hand & footholds. Took a deep breath and pulled. I was on.
Sh*t. Sh*t. Sh*t.
There is one thing for sure; sea-battererd limestone is very sharp. Very f*cking sharp indeed. However there was no way that I was letting go or falling off, this was my flash attempt at conquering the Zanzibar bouldering scene ... and on top of that, I had an audience ... I was getting to the top.
I'll be honest, the going was pretty tough, without a proper warm up it felt like I was climbing through a horizontal roof rather than on the 45/50 degree angle that it was in reality. As I climbed it looked as though there were literally hundreds of features that looked useable, it was only until I applied any weight or force to them that I found most were like pulling on broken glass or would snap off under my weight. My fingers were hurting from the sharpness and my arms were getting pumped. I needed a rest ... this was definitely going to require some innovation; I managed to throw my leg up into a large, sharp pocket feature and with a flick of the heel I found a bomber heel/toe lock. A swift move of my right hand to a large hold mean that I was in balance and in a good position to rest.
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| The author making good use of a rest on his first problem font 6b+ (notice the very stoned local perched behind him) | |
A quick moment to catch my breath and a dab of chalk and I was powering through the last few moves to the top of the rock. I could hear a mumble of voices from the crowd behind me and I as I turned round to climb back down ... I was met with applause. Clearly the locals felt I had warranted some appreciation. Cracking.
Well, I was off to a flying start and had climbed my first problem, I reckon at around V4+/font6b+/6c. I shared some moments of enthusiasm and excitement with the 'wide-boys' and now growing crowd of locals which also included some Masai men that had gathered to see what the hell I was doing. They were intrigued, but who wouldn't be?! A crazy white guy turns up and starts throwing himself about on your local bit of rock?! Very strange. A couple of the more ambitious locals and one of the Masai fancied a try themselves and did their best to find a decent hold and put their feet on ... it looks easy right?! I gave them all a dab in the chalk bag, and pointed them at some of the more obvious holds. They realised very quickly that this was not as easy as they had first thought, in fact it was quite the opposite. Their failed efforts simply made them want me to show them what else could be done on the rock. They wanted more, and so did I.
I wandered a little further along the rock to look for the next obvious line to climb ... it wasn't so obvious. The next sequence of (useable) features looked smaller and more widely spaced, following a scoop feature out through the steep roof ... it was going to require a little more thought and a lot more effort. Especially if I was going to impress! I brushed and chalked up the holds that looked solid and hung off them just to check. More chalk and a few deep breaths and I was sat at the base of the rock again.
I pulled on the first holds. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pressing with my feet as hard as I could I tried to take some of the weight (and hopefully some of the pain) from my fingers. A long reach with my right arm for the next distant hold and ... slip. I hit the sand arse first to a volley of disappointed groans from the locals. Crap. I really was going to have to try.
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| The (painful) starting holds |
I chalked up again, gritted my teeth and pressed hard into my toes this time attempting to make the move more dynamically ... my hand hit its target, but my feet cut loose. Not wanting to commit to the razor sharp hold hold (or the pain) I hit the sand again. This time there was silence. Ouch. I had a harsh word with myself.
What's wrong with you? The holds are chalked. You know you can make the reach. Man-up and pull-on.
More chalk, more deep breaths and I'm back on. This time going for a more controlled approach, locking my left arm deep as my right hand reaches high.
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| The big move up & right |
My fingers squeezed the hold, I was in business. I could feel my feet starting to shift and knew that gravity was about to pull me away from the rock. As I started to cut-loose again, I pressed hard with my left hand and gripped tight with my right letting my body swing through. Using the momentum of the swing I threw my right foot high above my head and onto the next foot hold. It stuck. Come on. Despite the awkward position I flagged my left leg out. I felt balanced. I breathed. More chalk.
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| Throwing my leg up high (good use of momentum) for the awkward postition |
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| Flagging the left leg to stay in balance and taking a second to chalk up |
I eyed up the next hold. It was up and left, a weird looking blob in a pocket. I knew this would be a powerful move, from the position I wasin. I engaged my core muscles as I moved my left hand onto its hold. I hit it first time. Feet loose again I regained balance and pressed on the footholds.
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| Grabbing 'the blob' out left |
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| Sinking down ready for the 'last big move' |
One final big move up to another good hold was all it would take. I sank deep into my feet and then powered up to a sharp jug, cranking the last easy moves to the top. I had done it again. More applause. This was great. Another problem done, this time at around V5+/V6 or font 6c+/7a.
I was having an absolute whale of a time, however my fingers and the rest of my body didn't agree. I was already bleeding from a gash on my left hand, my index finger on my right hand had a big flapper and I had managed to slash my ankles up pretty bad as well. As much as I was enjoying myself, I was going to have to call it a day, before I did any serious damage.
Unlike when I'm in the UK or on a climbing trip and I get shut down early by flappers/blood/rain/etc I wasn't gutted, mad or anything similar. I was actually very pleased. I think the fact that I hadn't climbed for so long meant that a quick burst for an hour in the sun was enough to put a smile on my face.
I ambled back to the beach huts and chalets where the rest of the group was sunbathing. As I approached, chatting with the still-confused locals, bloodied up like I'd be wrestling with razor-wire ... the awaiting folk (all non-climbers) thought that I had a screw loose. They were probably right.
If you are heading out to Zanzibar (for whatever reason) and want to know if there is any climbing to be had ... I think I have answered the question quite clearly. There is bouldering there. It is by no means not easy, and it's certainly not skin friendly but it was a perfect quick hit and a little adventure, all at the same time.
I certainly left Kendwa very happy.
Thanks go to the extremely friendly (and incredibly stoned) locals for letting me play on their rock and also a big thank you to Amy for coming along with me the day after with her posh camera to take the lovely pictures you've seen here.
Love to you all.
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| The author ... smiling |
*(unconfirmed)
