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Matka - climbing in Macedonia (pt. 2)
- a story by John Styles
We need the practice abseiling. It was true, I realised that I had not abseiled for almost a year. How had that happened? We coiled the ropes and threw them into space. I went first, found the two pegs in horizontal cracks 45 odd meters below, belayed and Isabelle came down to join me. I pulled the rope, it started to move but then stopped. Tugs turned to yanks, turned to full body weight, it was jammed and my stomach churning began.
 It was probably also a year since we had done Tani (VI+) at Matka, our favourite crag here in Macedonia. 90 metres of technical climbing followed by probably another 100 on an alpine style ridge to the summit. Isabelle was fed up of the top ridge, common to many of the climbs on the crag, and she was right we did need to practice "getting off a mountain". The normal scramble down to the mountain monastery, leisurely sunbathe on their lawn whilst drinking at the spring had become a ritual for me. Even the walk down to the lake and the hammering on what looks like an old bit of armour plating to summon the ferry, I had grown accustomed to. But Isabelle was right I was growing complacent.
We had arrived at the climb mid morning, and were thankful for the cloudy sky to keep the sun at bay. The first two pitches are a joy of steep but not vertical climbing, progressing up a groove to its end at a wall. Surmounting the wall is the crux, and it all went far better than last year. Macedonia is the land of the rusty peg, although the delays are beginning to be bolted. I admit to pulling on the odd peg when in difficulty, especially on long routes where speed is of the essence. The problem is that as I grow older so the definition of long seems to get shorter. So maybe I was just younger today, for I only found myself hanging from a peg on the steep wall as I pondered which way. The climbing eases from here until a good belay below the final ridge.
So now back on our belay mid cliff, we were at the bottom of our jammed ropes, and crucially I had used one of my prussic loops for the belay off of the bolts above. Why  does that always happen? We hung around for a while pondering our options, or rather trying to think up some as the thought of prusiking up the double ropes on a boot lace was too awful for me to come to terms with immediately. Inevitably, as I full knew, I was also going to get prusiking practice as well in our "get out of that" practice, except strangely we seemed to have wandered beyond the initial realm of practice and into the realm adventure, though still I hoped manageable.
Now I am always wary of abseiling, but I openly admit to dreading prusiking. All that rope bounce and sharp edges seem to take the control away from me and what I can actually do, other than mitigate the consequences. So two long cow tails later I am alternately climbing the rope and then swinging around to clip and unclip relative pegs above and below. I am transported back to College where I think I can claim to be the final ascendant (together with Andy) of the main overhang at Kilnsey and Malham, before they were freed. Our winter climbing antics in Yorkshire were fun, before Winter Sun was discovered, although Pete Livesey's Rock guide to Europe was published it was still only had about 20 pages for the whole continent.
I got into the swing (probably bounce) of moving up the rope. The boot lace was working far better than my one remaining prussic loop, but it was oh so thin and I  studied the knot joining the ends constantly. The wall passed and the easier angled climbing appeared, so I was able to simply climb and slide the knots with me. I soon arrived at the belay. There was of course no "problem", just an awkward lay of rope across sloping rock providing too much friction. A little relaying to reduce this and I set off down the ropes.
Stomach stopped churning, but until this pulls through I can't relax. Slowly but surely the rope pulls, we are in business and within half an hour we are standing at the foot happy with ourselves and our little adventure. A scurry across the scree to the lake, a toll of the iron plate, a short ferry and we are sitting enjoying coffee. Hardly touching the void, but it keeps you in touch with your mortality and on top of the need for rope skills and the practise of them.
Long becomes shorter in distance and apparently time as I ponder "when did I actually last do x, y or z". Oh god it's all to depressing to dwell upon, Carpe Diem.
more info about rock/ice climbing in Macedonia: kontakt@alpinizam.org
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