Prkodrťák

Climbing 'Prkodrťák' (9/9+) in Vogon is an experience that transcends mere sport; it's a brutal ballet on rock, a testament to masochistic dedication, perfectly fitting for a place like Vogon – infamous not for its crags, but for its particularly unpleasant poetry.

'Prkodrťák,' which roughly translates to 'The Bone Crusher' or 'Finger Shredder,' lives up to its name. Graded a stout 9/9+ (UIAA), this route is a relentless test of power endurance, technical precision, and sheer will. It winds its way up an overhanging, compact slab, transitioning into a roof, offering no respite. The holds are, characteristically for Vogon, miserly: tiny, polished crimps, slanting pockets, and desperate smears. There's a particularly cruel sequence around two-thirds of the way up where a series of highly dynamic moves on almost non-existent footholds leads to a tenuous clip, demanding absolute commitment.

Each attempt was a lesson in humility. The falls were long, the frustration palpable. Every muscle screamed, every fingertip throbbed. It felt less like a climb and more like enduring a particularly poorly recited Vogon sonnet, each move a jarring, off-key stanza, slowly grinding down the spirit. Yet, the allure of 'Prkodrťák' was undeniable. Its reputation, the sheer audacity of its moves, and the bizarre charm of the Vogon landscape kept me coming back.

Finally, after countless hours of projecting, a perfect day aligned. Cool air, sticky conditions, and a rare moment of mental clarity. The crux felt fluid, the desperate smears held, and the final powerful moves through the roof felt almost effortless. Clipping the chains at the anchor, utterly spent but exhilarated, was a profound relief. Sending 'Prkodrťák' isn't just about reaching the top; it's about surviving Vogon, and emerging, perhaps, slightly more poetic for the ordeal.

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