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One time in the late 1970s, on a family trip back/through France, we stopped at a rest stop/picnic area, and witnessed dozens of people in climbing footwear, chalk, and gloves, climbing spectacularly tiny boulders in exquisite concentration and reverence. Now I know where that was.
( , Tue 28 Dec 2021, 0:30, Reply)
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in hanging off a rock when you would be higher if you got off and stood up.
( , Tue 28 Dec 2021, 13:13, Reply)
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Sport innit.
And Fontainebleau is an awesome place to do it. Really nice peaceful forest with more and better bouldering packed into it than just about anywhere in the world.
( , Tue 28 Dec 2021, 16:21, Reply)
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I also fail to see the point in kicking a fucking ball around a field.
The area looks amazing though, would be nice to just wander about there.
( , Tue 28 Dec 2021, 21:07, Reply)
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I mean, it's properly fucking idyllic, as long as you stay away from the bits close to the lay-bys where the whore vans park up. But even then you stop seeing Rhyl jellyfish once you're a bit away from the car park.
And all you need is a pad and a pair of climbing shoes so it couldn't be more accessible. Or a mountain bike. Or a horse. Or just walking boots. Whatever you're into.
Spent a lot of good times there but not been since the beforetimes. Itching to get back tbh.
bleau.info/ is the definitive guide.
That ball chasing shit though, never really followed that.
( , Tue 28 Dec 2021, 21:12, Reply)