Bloud Ernest

The first light barely kissed the eastern spires of Hora as we geared up, the crisp morning air a jolt of anticipation. Today was the day for 'Bloud Ernest', a notorious 7/7+ that had been on my tick list for seasons. Its name, 'The Ernest Fool' or 'Wanderer', perfectly encapsulates its deceptive nature. From below, it looks manageable, but once you commit, its true character reveals itself: an intricate dance of delicate footwork on tiny crystals, followed by a powerful, sustained sequence through an overhang.

The crux, a reachy dynamic move off a polished sloper, demanded absolute precision. My fingers screamed, my muscles burned, but the focus was absolute. Every breath, every shift of weight, became part of a silent conversation with the rock. Breaking through the final lip into the sunshine was a moment of pure, unadulterated relief and triumph. From the summit, the world stretched out below, a tapestry of green forests and distant peaks. 'Bloud Ernest' wasn't just a climb; it was a journey into self-discovery, a testament to perseverance. A true classic of Hora, forever etched in memory.

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