The bizarre and large flood plains that are Monterrey and the larger state of Nuevo Leon were originally dubbed “Extremoduro” by an early colonist, or “extremely hard”, and hold 5 million people, making it the third largest city in Mexico (behind Guadalajara and Mexico City). Cement is a highly visible part of the city: not only does the beautiful mountain range of Sierra las Mitras, which splits the city, have large visibly exposed quarries on both sides, but unpainted cinder blocks lay foundation for countless poverty polygons. During operational hours, the quarries’ factories belch diurnal dust in drifting plumes over the west end of the Monterrey.

Cement, in fact, can be tasted, smelled, and visible by the city’s inhabitants. The dust finds a way into everything, coating the sidewalks after a heavy rain, and leaving a similar silt layer of lime on the bottom of the boiled kettle.

Elote is the Mexican street corn, topped cheese, mayonnaise, a spicy cayenne pepper mix, and a slightly soured cream similar to France’s “crème fraîche”. The smell of elote, Monterrey’s perhaps second most salient ingredient, just a culinary topping to the sprawling cement sea, dances through one of the also richest cities in Latin America by escaping the tarps of corn stands from large cooking pots, curling in the nose of pedestrians, and snaking tiny tendrils through the streets of the barrios, not very far, into dark abandoned structures, through windows dark and empty like the eyes of long-gone addicts.

On hazy days, though I can’t actually smell it, I fancy the dust from the cement quarry must sift down from their plumes to collect in the furrowed streets to partner in the dance of the smell of elote.

Although there are no photos, I did Time Wave Zero last week when I’m not even supposed to be jogging yet. The ankle is recovering, and it’s tender, and I am still having some trouble going up stairs.

We blasted up the 23 pitches in a personal record of 17 hours.
It was a first for a lot of things:

Stuck Rope Panic Attack

We’re Out of Water Panic Attack

Assisted Haul Up a 5.12a

8am Alpine Start

…as well as my first ever big wall.

It was quite an adventure, and gave me the kick in the ass I needed.

This is Tiffany, signing off.

Here’s a teaser video with Gaz bolting a line in Guitarritas, a canyon waaay far back in Parque la Huasteca.

We’ve just seen the Banff Film Festival, where Escalando Fronteras’ program leader Rory Smith surprised us by having his video shown on the big screen, then bringing Gaz and I to join him, Ramon, and Nadia up on stage to represent the program while he talked to the audience.

To paint a picture of our experience in our new home so far, we’re in a cozy colonia with trees framing graffiti work eponymous to the artists. Our house has protective metal bars to keep out beaver-sized animals, and even the two upstairs windows have shadow puppets of pointed iron arches within tiny squares of light. The newly installed wi-fi has a fitful temperament, so as a result we share the modem cable. César had visited to fix the wifi on the first day, when I was alone in the house with a locked outer gate, and he had no hesitation in jumping over the fence to replace the modem.

The house is by no means shabby: we are actually in a very nice, quiet neighborhood next to a playground, and the national Parque La Huasteca. The graffiti by Tonda13 has a nice flare in their penmanship; the street is filled with trees, friendly dogs with dreaded hair; and only the occasional advertising car blasting the same pre-recording commercial about “tortillas amarillas”. On our left is a Déportivo, a small local bar (or a room with a few folded chairs where men get “barracho” and talk about the old days when they used to run in fit, younger bodies). There are also two tienditas – “little stores” – hoarding Penguïno packages and Modelo beer, tostadas, frijoles, and dish soap, allowing just enough space between the cigarrones and bag of pork rinds to squeeze to the counter and pay.

When we arrived, the house was stripped of furniture, and we now have a spare futon and mattress for visitors. Staying with us now is a cheerful British friend of Gaz’s, Adam, who we’ve happily pulled into our communal meals and with whom we have shared a healthy dose of Cards Against Humanity.

I can’t wait for Steven Lozano to visit us in January and help us develop with another drill. My ankle is healing slowly, and I can hike up a rope to take photos and video, even climb .12b, but can’t do any long venturing to help develop Huasteca.

Until next time!
Tiffany

For the second time in my life I hang, on this occasion watching two worlds.

Climbers mill around the base of the wall, and ATV riders jostling together.

I’m swathed in biting smidges and sitting sore, but happily clicking away.

Life is good. 🙂

The two of us, Gaz and I, on our way to our destination of Monterrey, visited Potrero Chico and stayed several nights in La Posada, which has camping, hammocks over a pool, a nice restaurant, communal cooking area, a grocery store just a half mile back down the road, and Luigi’s pizza and climbing gear stand just below the walls. The area has been considered national park space since 1959, and caters to visiting climbers.

We’re officially in Monterrey as of three days ago, in the third largest city in Mexico, also known in the past two years as the murder capital of the world. The city has quieted down since 2012, and although no tourist hostels remain due to the drop off in travelers, and still many climbers hop over the border to multi-pitch in El Potrero Chico, sport climb in El Salto, and boulder in Penoles. The city is built on white concrete, and the mountains are shrouded in pollution and dust.

The climbing area we live near now is the Parque la Huasteca, which was developed decades ago and has a guidebook out by Ramon Narvaez, one of our roommates. (The canyon is massive, harboring caves and tall slabs prickled with lechuguilla, mala mujer, scorpions, centipedes, and hundreds of routes. On our last trip, a lechuguilla plant left a hand-sized bruise where it stabbed me in the leg, and we’ve heard of mala mujer giving massive, unpleasant rashes to one of the past developers. This week, we’ll be posting more photos of what we find.)

When I post tomorrow, I’ll take more pictures and share some video of the neighborhood.