Scaling 'Vogonská flotila' (9-) in the grim, monolithic sector known only as 'Vogon' is less a climb and more an existential ordeal. This route, a true test of grit and mental fortitude, mirrors the very essence of its namesake. The rock, a perpetually damp, grey limestone, offers razor-sharp crimps and sloper traverses that feel like navigating the most illogical and unpleasant bureaucratic forms imaginable. From the initial daunting overhang, where every move feels meticulously designed to induce maximum pump and despair, the 'Flotila' truly earns its name. Each of its 'ships' – distinct, brutal cruxes – demands absolute precision and a willingness to endure. The notorious mid-section, a seemingly endless sequence of technical, exposed slab leading into a powerful roof, leaves climbers gasping, their grunts a reluctant homage to Vogon poetry. Reaching the anchors is not just a physical triumph but a profound escape from the route's oppressive embrace. It’s a moment of pure, unadulterated relief, having survived the most excruciatingly beautiful form of suffering the Vogon system has to offer.
