Autor "Quelhas" e o Cônsul de Zürich, António Antas Campos, na apresentação d' O livro da Criança, com exposição de pinturas de vários artistas povoenses, juntamente com Jorge Campos, convidado ilustre, na LusoLivro.
CULTURA LUSO PORTUGUESA - Helvetica
Biografia: Autodidacta Jorge Campos
sábado, 23 de Janeiro de 2010
Cultura com cultura
Autor "Quelhas" e o Cônsul de Zürich, António Antas Campos, na apresentação d' O livro da Criança, com exposição de pinturas de vários artistas povoenses, juntamente com Jorge Campos, convidado ilustre, na LusoLivro.
Multi-Cultura
Exposição de pintura na LusoLivro em Zürich, com presença dos conceituados artistas plásticos, Jorge Campos, Quelhas, Justina Guedes, Amaro Lopes, José Maria, Jorge Nascimento, Ana Barbosa, Domingos Ferreira e José Loureiro
Viagem
La viada ès la Arte del encuentro,pero tambien ay muchos desencuentros en la vida Se que las nuestras dudas son treidoras y nos hace perder lo que con frecuencia, podriamos ganar,solo por el simple miedo de arriscar.Sobre el amor,se sabe que son como ventanales que llenan las velas de las naves,aciendo que ellos puedan navegar,y algunas vezes hacen que se undan tambien.Pero si no fuera por el amor,no existen viajes,no existen aventuras,o mismo nuevos descubrimientos.
Expo Póvoa de Lanhoso
Presença de Jorge Campos como artista Plástico no Theatro Clube da Póvoa de Lanhoso
quarta-feira, 20 de Janeiro de 2010
domingo, 10 de Janeiro de 2010
segunda-feira, 14 de Dezembro de 2009
Jorge Campos dá a "Liberdade" às crianças desfavorecidas
Autor: Manuel a
raújo http://araujo.w/ordpress.com/
Notícia recebida in e-mail de: Campos da Silva Jorge Manuel J.Campos@usz.ch
raújo http://araujo.w/ordpress.com/
Notícia recebida in e-mail de: Campos da Silva Jorge Manuel J.Campos@usz.ch
domingo, 13 de Dezembro de 2009
Jorge Campos "Apoia" Crianças desfavorecidas
O artista plástico Jorge Campos, natural da Póvoa de Lanhoso e a residir em Zurique desde 1991 ofereceu a “Freiheit” (Liberdade) uma valiosa peça, à “World of Imagine”, instituição fundada em Paris e Genebra, que se dedica entre outras actividades, à protecção de crianças desfavorecidas.Jorge Campos é um autodidacta já convidado por duas vezes pela presidência da República a expor em Portugal, aquando as comemorações do Dia de Portugal em Viana do Castelo e recentemente em Lisboa, eventos esses onde participaram artistas como Júlio Ventura, Diogo Pimentão e a renomeada Paula Rego entre outros.
O certame no qual ele ofereceu a peça, decorreu no prestigiado “Grand Dolder Hotel” em Zurique, durante a segunda edição do “Night´s Dream Ball” onde foi convidada de honra Gloria Gaynor. Houve animação e glamour quanto baste.
A dádiva trata-se de uma peça de cor preta, com a altura de dois metros e 66 kg de peso. Foi executada com tubos de água e no topo, adornada com um enorme “diamante” de vidro. Foi leiloada e adquirida pelo valor de 30 mil francos suíços, os quais reverteram inteiramente a favor de crianças desfavorecidas.
Com esta iniciativa, Jorge Campos pretende alertar consciências e apela, que na medida do possível todos colaborem “com organizações credíveis” e que “digamos não às pessoas que exploram crianças” e remata dizendo que “se todos dermos um pouco de nós, poderemos dar muitas alegrias e tornar realidade muitos sonhos e desejos de crianças que nada têm”.
http://www.lanhosotv.com/news/jorge%20campos%20%22apoia%22%20crian%c3%a7as%20desfavorecidas1/
quarta-feira, 7 de Outubro de 2009
Expo Viana do Castelo, Jorge Campos com o Presidente da Repúblca 2008
Jorge Campos, Presidente da República Portuguêsa e esposaExpo Viana do Castelo, jorge Campos com o Presidente e Vereadora da Câmara da Póvoa de Lanhoso
Jorge Campos, Vereadora da Cultura, Fátima Moreira,Presidente Câmara Municipal da Póvoa de Lanhoso, Manuel Batista
Expo Viana do Castelo, Jorge Campos com o autor povoense "Quelhas"
Amigos... Quelhas, Diego Sandi, Jorge Campos, Javi SilvaExpo Viana do Castelo, passaram pela exposição mai de 30.000 visitantes
O Autodidacta Jorge Campos, está a dar continuidade, juntamente com outros escultores, desde a inauguração no dia 10 de Junho, dia de Portugal, de Camões e das Comunidades, em Viana do Castelo, numa exposição produzida pelo “Museu da Presidência da República”, A exposição, desde então tem tido muita aderência, já por lá passaram mais de 30.000 visitantes, a continuidade em Viana deve-se ao êxito que perdura. Na altura teve como presença os convidados de honra, Ex. mos Senhores; Presidente da Câmara Municipal da Póvoa de Lanhoso (Manuel Batista), e Vereadora (Fátima Moreira), o inspirador “Quelhas”, e dois amigos vindos de Espanha, e o nosso Presidente da República, “Cavaco Silva”, este, que pretende reunir artistas portugueses ou luso-descendentes actualmente a viver no estrangeiro. Seguidamente, Jorge, irá estar em várias exposições D; Arte, seguido a Viana, nomeadamente, no “Museu da Presidência da República, no Palácio Nacional de Belém.”
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Hier et aujourd'hui (Ontem e Hoje)
(Ontem e Hoje)Ontem tinha um coração forte e cheio como uma Lua em Agosto. E corria e gritava em voz alta como um pequeno menino entre os campos do meu País onde descobria a beleza da Natureza.
Este latido do coração em voz alta muitas vezes, devido à alegria, dor e tensão física, mas nunca tão forte como quando a vi pela primeira vez, uma pulsação forte que fez calar tudo como se o tempo se tivesse congelado, como todos os sentidos do Mundo tivessem concentrado nesta criatura…
A este coração que amo sem lógica, sem limites, sem cauções, usando a força e emoções por inteiro: Como se alguém cantasse a canção embriagada do Amor, cheia de ritmos frenéticos, os ritmos da dança da vida…
A vida nunca pára de mudar. Por estas mesmas razões, às vezes podemos sofrer profundamente o desejo não cumprido, os sonhos não realizados, amantes enganadores, amizades que morrem, a gente que se vai! E nós que nos esforçamos para descobrir tudo sobre todos e o abismo de consistência de tantas outras almas. Bofetadas, gretas, dores e rasgos, o coração parece estar em pedaços. Pergunto-me se é possível este mesmo funcionar outra vez, se é possível esbofeteá-lo outra vez com alegria, vitalidade e optimismo…
Assim coleccionando os pedaços do meu coração e juntando-os. O que a vida me ensinou a amar, sem causar danos, seguir vivendo mais forte, a vida com experiências ricas ensinou-me a chegar mais perto da outra gente e que as nossas historias teem tantas coisas em comum. È estranha, mas è realidade que um coração quebrado pode amar mais perfumadamente. As gretas trazem-nos o significado da existência das nossas vidas, como estas gretas abrem caminhos que unem os corações humanos, caminhos que se tornam possíveis e permitem viajar pelo poder do Amor... O Amor que se produz em todos os corações, permite-nos curar e ganhar como um só!
Campos da Silva Jorge Manuel J.Campos@usz.ch
Freiheit - Liberdade
Freiheit - Liberdade 2009
“Freiheit” (Liberdade) altura de dois metros e 66 kg de peso. Foi executada com tubos de água e no topo, adornada com um enorme “diamante” de vidro.
Sklptur von Jorge Campos
Freiheit (lateinisch libertas)wierd in der Regel verstanden als die können.Sie ist eines der kostbarsten Güter,die ein Mensch in seinem Dasein auf seinem Weg in dieser Welt bekommen kann.
Diese Skulptur wurd teilweis aus Materialien geschaffen,die keiner mehr wollte,die unbrauchbar,defekt waren.Herr Campos besitzt die Fähigkeit,etwas Kaputtes wieder zum Leben zu erwecken,etwas Einmaliges,Wundarbares zu schaffen.
Auch World of Imagine hat sich das Ziel gesetzt etwas zu bewegen...Mit ganzem Herzen setzt sich Wold of Imagine für den Schutz wehrloser und verletzlicher Kindern ein.Es ist uns ein besonderes Anliegen,gerade denen,die sich selbst nicht zu Wehr setzen können,Unterstützung zu geben.Und jedes Augenpaar,in welchem wir wieder Hoffnung und Freude sehen können,jedes Kind,für das das Leben wieder Sinn bekommt und lebenswert erscheint,ist all die Mühe,all unser Tun wert!
An unserem exlusiven /A midsummer Night`s Dream`Ball,der am 22.08.2009 IM/The Dolder Grand stattfindet,wird aus diesem Grunde eine Verlosung stattfinden,für die unter Anderem die Skulptur (Libertad)von Jorge Campos im Wert von 10.000 als Preis zur Verfüng gestellt wird.Jorge Campos Werk Lbertd steht hier für die Hoffnung und das Recht auf ein Leben in Freiheit und das Streben nach Glück.
Jorge Camposund Ihr World of Imagine Team...
“Freiheit” (Liberdade) altura de dois metros e 66 kg de peso. Foi executada com tubos de água e no topo, adornada com um enorme “diamante” de vidro.Sklptur von Jorge Campos
Freiheit (lateinisch libertas)wierd in der Regel verstanden als die können.Sie ist eines der kostbarsten Güter,die ein Mensch in seinem Dasein auf seinem Weg in dieser Welt bekommen kann.
Diese Skulptur wurd teilweis aus Materialien geschaffen,die keiner mehr wollte,die unbrauchbar,defekt waren.Herr Campos besitzt die Fähigkeit,etwas Kaputtes wieder zum Leben zu erwecken,etwas Einmaliges,Wundarbares zu schaffen.
Auch World of Imagine hat sich das Ziel gesetzt etwas zu bewegen...Mit ganzem Herzen setzt sich Wold of Imagine für den Schutz wehrloser und verletzlicher Kindern ein.Es ist uns ein besonderes Anliegen,gerade denen,die sich selbst nicht zu Wehr setzen können,Unterstützung zu geben.Und jedes Augenpaar,in welchem wir wieder Hoffnung und Freude sehen können,jedes Kind,für das das Leben wieder Sinn bekommt und lebenswert erscheint,ist all die Mühe,all unser Tun wert!
An unserem exlusiven /A midsummer Night`s Dream`Ball,der am 22.08.2009 IM/The Dolder Grand stattfindet,wird aus diesem Grunde eine Verlosung stattfinden,für die unter Anderem die Skulptur (Libertad)von Jorge Campos im Wert von 10.000 als Preis zur Verfüng gestellt wird.Jorge Campos Werk Lbertd steht hier für die Hoffnung und das Recht auf ein Leben in Freiheit und das Streben nach Glück.
Jorge Camposund Ihr World of Imagine Team...
O Autodidata, Jorge Campos, vai estar numa exposição produzida pelo “Museu da Presidência da República.
Biografia: Jorge Campos - Campos da Silva Jorge Manuel, nascido em Portugal a 19 de Maio de 1974. País onde estudou e viveu até aos 17 anos, sito na freguesia de Frades do concelho de Póvoa de Lanhoso. Em 1991 emigrou para a Suiça, cidade de Zurique, onde reside. Têm como profissão, auxiliar analista clínico. O Jorge tem o previlegio de dominares algumas linguas, dado que se entrega à comunidade onde vive. A arte sempre o fascinou, por isso sempre procurou canalizar as suas energias e os seus “sonhos” para todas as expressões artísticas. O Autodidacta Jorge Campos, vai estar presente na inauguração no dia 10 de Junho, dia de Portugal, de Camões e das Comunidades, em Viana do Castelo, numa exposição produzida pelo “Museu da Presidência da República”, com presença do Presidente da República, “Cavaco Silva”, que pretende reunir artistas portugueses ou luso-descendentes actualmente a viver no estrangeiro. Seguidamente irá estar em várias exposições d; arte, seguido a Viana, nomeadamente, no “Museu da Presidência da República, no Palácio Nacional de Belém.”Introdução: As suas criações de arte, como os seus candeeiros, exemplo: peças artísticas em pedra, torno de prensa em madeira, metais e um pouco de tudo, que de velho, se dá “vida à vida”, para além dos quadros em tela. Tudo isto, são frutos espontâneos e momentos vivos e vividos na sua vida, e estadias em cidades onde têm passado, e países que visitou... Nenhuma obra è igual à anterior, todas têm um significado próprio. Para o Jorge Campos, justifica o momento que o inspirou. Não só neste ponto de vista, também um dos motivos da criação destas peças únicas são de facto o máximo aproveitamento de peças condenadas e dar-lhe uma nova identidade!!! “Restos de materiais ou materiais já não utilizados e a ponto de serem reciclados” Uma vez que todas elas deixaram de ter utilidade à primeira vista. Jorge Campos procura nelas uma conjunção entre “Arte” e “Design”. Tenta entre o aproveitamento antigo, fazer obras contemporâneas, com um estilo jovem e com uma utilidade, tendo uma peça de decoração única e diferente. Enfim o lúcido aproveitamento de utilização e de ideias!!! Água e luz: simboliza “a Reencarnação”. Todas estas obras são um pouco a vida do artista... Entregou-as aos seus “sonhos” e são este mesmos “sonhos” que preenchem grande parte da sua vida… Para o Jorge Campos é gratificante que as gentes da sua raça apreciem as suas obras d, arte, pela cultura e dêem-lhe mais valor, que o próprio valor e sonhos... Faço das palavras do Jorge as minhas palavras.
João Carlos Veloso Gonçalves “Quelhas” inspiracaodoautor@sapo.pt
http://www.gazetalusofona.ch/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=675&Itemid=12
http://www.lanhosotv.com/news/biografia-autodidacta-jorge-campos/
João Carlos Veloso Gonçalves “Quelhas” inspiracaodoautor@sapo.pt
http://www.gazetalusofona.ch/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=675&Itemid=12
http://www.lanhosotv.com/news/biografia-autodidacta-jorge-campos/
domingo, 2 de Setembro de 2007
The Bruggler, the whole Bruggler and nothing but the Bruggler
Tradução de Alemão para Português - Mostrar romanização
http://www.haskell.org/keith/2007/bruggler.html
ESCALADA - Jorge Campos
September 2, 2007 We ate like kings. Like Swedish kings no less. Oh yes we did. Leila had thrown her once-yearly crayfish dinner and we had consumed crustaceans, tossed back schnapps and sung like Helsinki's drunkest students at the anniversary ball. It was really a lot of fun. In the morning our trash smelt like an unwashed prawn trawler, but hey it's all good. Heaving the stinking mess outside was a little less fun. Talk about your red terror. Jorge picked me up around a quarter to ten and we headed through town to pick up Regula. Once she was in the truck we roared off down the highway towards Glarus. Along the way Lara and Martijn overtook us before we even got to the end of the big lake. Our target for the day was the Schwandital which is a hanging valley above Naefels, on the right side is the great Bruggler wall. We pulled in to the carpark about twenty minutes behind the ever patient L&M. We sorted our gear, paid for parking and then slogged in the last fifty minutes on foot.
At the base of the wall we could see that there were about half a dozen parties up there already on various lines. Lara and Martijn scouted for a route they thought would be interesting for them. Jorge and Regula waited for me to stop gasping for breath and tell them what I had picked out for us. It was going to be the same as the one I did with Carsten and Stine back in 2005 - Weinachtsroute (4c). We left L&M prepping for their climb, they were always going to be much faster than us, so we more or less said sayanora right there. Finding the start was easy, they have a little plaque nailed up to the start with Weinachtsroute stamped on it now. Jorge and Regula asked me for the plan and I told them the expected sequence. I would take pitches one (4b) and three (4c), Jorge could do 2 (4a) and 4 (4c), and Regula could take pitch five (3b) if she wanted it. I remember that back in 2005 Carsten had taken, and used, cams on every pitch. I also remembered that there were usually only a couple of bolts between belay stations. Good thing I was only going to have to lead maybe two or three pitches - runouts really mess with my head. So full of vim, viv and vigour I fired up pitch one. The first bolt was at about twenty nine thousand feet but I reached it without needing bottled oxygen. Take that Messner you poser! Ok, ok, I'm over blowing things a bit - but for once I went up there like I knew what I was doing. Of course the very end reminded me that I am, in fact, a mug. There's this ancient tree, some sort of pine I think, growing out of a big crack right at the end of the pitch. It's all twisted and gnarled, and incredibly smooth on the bit everybody stands on when they belay for the next section. Upon the polished pine I struggled, pulled and flailed trying to bridge the gap between the last decent foothold on earth and heaven (as represented by the end of the goddamn pitch). Undignified does not quite describe the situation, but I did eventually get up on top of it. Boy was I glad Jorge was taking the next pitch. Jorge came up after me, trailing Regula's rope. He seemed fine, amazingly fine in fact, for a guy who hadn't got to sleep until 4am that morning (Jorge had been trapped by some women in a bar the night before, they plied him with wine, beer and their sultry ways before he could escape their clutches and creep home, allegedly alone). I told Jorge that the stance was too small for three and he would have to head up the next pitch right away. He gave me a funny look. I dont know what it was. Whether the shenanigans of the night before had left him too fagged to deal with his first big wall, or if he realized that he could count most of the bolts on a pitch using only his thumbs, or if he was not confident about using cams in a really deliberate fashion. Whatever was going through his mind it made a decision for him on the way. He said that he wasn't going to be doing any leading. Oh. I thought. This was followed by slight disorientation. Jorge was my gun climber. He was my get out of jail free card. I had whipped him up a bunch of walls by this stage and he had conquered with nary a backward glance just about every one of them. He was my guarantee we weren't going to be having any trouble on this climb. My logic was fairly sound - after all there was nothing harder than a 4c to do. It was a somewhat worrying development. However, I thought, perhaps after another pitch he will come round. That gave me a bit of hope. Ok, the next pitch is an easy 4a - I can do that.
I called down to Regula that she was going to have to wait a bit longer. Then I did three of the longest run-outs I have done for quite some time. You have to understand that I had grown used to considering a gap of four metres between two bolts as being a bit nerve-wracking. I clipped the first bolt after about twelve metres, placed a cam another dozen metres higher and then went to the end of the pitch. Brilliant hand holds all the way made the difference, it was just a matter of finding them. I got up to the stance, which was big enough for a wedding party, and heaved a sigh of relief. I set up the anchor and told Jorge he could start bringing up Regula. After a long time Jorge called up that he was ready to climb up to me. He came up fairly quickly. I asked him how he was feeling and he said he was fine, he really liked the view. But he was very happy with not leading. Ok, maybe Regula will do a bit of leading for me. Nope. She told me herself, rather emphatically as Jorge belayed her up to the top of pitch two, that she would not be doing any leading. Runouts too long, not enough bolts, etc. Bloody hell. Well, we were two pitches up a five pitch line. A very small part of me was whispering to rap everyone back down. If these two were too nervous to lead then perhaps we shouldn't be there. I hadn't planned on leading the whole thing. I asked Jorge how he was feeling again. He said he was ok. So was Regula. They weren't worried, they just weren't leading. Since nobody else was wavering over the general plan of continuing up I figured that we could just take a see-how-she-goes approach. Pitch three was ok, not as hard as I had thought it might be at 4c. It had four closely spaced bolts at the start covering the thoughtful stretch. Actually this was a lot of fun. I crept a long way up a tightening chute before slinging an old tree root and heaving up to the end of the pitch. That felt really good, I remember when Carsten led this last time. He must have been a tiny bit bored. After the others joined me I was already psyching for the next pitch. I remembered it pretty well, the only tricky bit was early on in a high steep corner. In 2005 I cheated a bit by going around to the left on an easier line, clipping the bolts from the side. I did exactly the same thing this time round. The rest was a doddle, fun too, and the next belay station came up fast. The runouts weren't bothering me and I was getting back into the habit of finding easy placements for the cams. It was getting late. As a group of three we were never going to do this route in record time. I wondered where Lara and Martijn were. They must have been finished by now. I could see the stubli down in the valley. Martijn said that they would wait there for a while. As I belayed up first Jorge and then Regula I stared down into the valley, trying to pick out a couple of familiar form. One pitch to go, easy as pie. Just a 3b with a little bit of exposure. We were up to around 150 metres above the start by now. The view was incredible and I lingered a while, sorting ropes and talking with the others about the traverse we had to do before going up to the top. The contrast to how I was feeling two weeks ago on Pizol was amazing. I didn't feel like giving away climbing today. That last pitch went very easily indeed. Two bolts, one cam and an alien reduced the runouts to nearly nothing. The setting sun cast great long shadows into the valley below, but it shone warmly high on the wall. Creeping up over the top of the Bruggler felt really good. The descent sucked majorly. I never want to do that damned walk off again. Too slippery and too bloody dangerous by half.
September 2, 2007 We ate like kings. Like Swedish kings no less. Oh yes we did. Leila had thrown her once-yearly crayfish dinner and we had consumed crustaceans, tossed back schnapps and sung like Helsinki's drunkest students at the anniversary ball. It was really a lot of fun. In the morning our trash smelt like an unwashed prawn trawler, but hey it's all good. Heaving the stinking mess outside was a little less fun. Talk about your red terror. Jorge picked me up around a quarter to ten and we headed through town to pick up Regula. Once she was in the truck we roared off down the highway towards Glarus. Along the way Lara and Martijn overtook us before we even got to the end of the big lake. Our target for the day was the Schwandital which is a hanging valley above Naefels, on the right side is the great Bruggler wall. We pulled in to the carpark about twenty minutes behind the ever patient L&M. We sorted our gear, paid for parking and then slogged in the last fifty minutes on foot.
At the base of the wall we could see that there were about half a dozen parties up there already on various lines. Lara and Martijn scouted for a route they thought would be interesting for them. Jorge and Regula waited for me to stop gasping for breath and tell them what I had picked out for us. It was going to be the same as the one I did with Carsten and Stine back in 2005 - Weinachtsroute (4c). We left L&M prepping for their climb, they were always going to be much faster than us, so we more or less said sayanora right there. Finding the start was easy, they have a little plaque nailed up to the start with Weinachtsroute stamped on it now. Jorge and Regula asked me for the plan and I told them the expected sequence. I would take pitches one (4b) and three (4c), Jorge could do 2 (4a) and 4 (4c), and Regula could take pitch five (3b) if she wanted it. I remember that back in 2005 Carsten had taken, and used, cams on every pitch. I also remembered that there were usually only a couple of bolts between belay stations. Good thing I was only going to have to lead maybe two or three pitches - runouts really mess with my head. So full of vim, viv and vigour I fired up pitch one. The first bolt was at about twenty nine thousand feet but I reached it without needing bottled oxygen. Take that Messner you poser! Ok, ok, I'm over blowing things a bit - but for once I went up there like I knew what I was doing. Of course the very end reminded me that I am, in fact, a mug. There's this ancient tree, some sort of pine I think, growing out of a big crack right at the end of the pitch. It's all twisted and gnarled, and incredibly smooth on the bit everybody stands on when they belay for the next section. Upon the polished pine I struggled, pulled and flailed trying to bridge the gap between the last decent foothold on earth and heaven (as represented by the end of the goddamn pitch). Undignified does not quite describe the situation, but I did eventually get up on top of it. Boy was I glad Jorge was taking the next pitch. Jorge came up after me, trailing Regula's rope. He seemed fine, amazingly fine in fact, for a guy who hadn't got to sleep until 4am that morning (Jorge had been trapped by some women in a bar the night before, they plied him with wine, beer and their sultry ways before he could escape their clutches and creep home, allegedly alone). I told Jorge that the stance was too small for three and he would have to head up the next pitch right away. He gave me a funny look. I dont know what it was. Whether the shenanigans of the night before had left him too fagged to deal with his first big wall, or if he realized that he could count most of the bolts on a pitch using only his thumbs, or if he was not confident about using cams in a really deliberate fashion. Whatever was going through his mind it made a decision for him on the way. He said that he wasn't going to be doing any leading. Oh. I thought. This was followed by slight disorientation. Jorge was my gun climber. He was my get out of jail free card. I had whipped him up a bunch of walls by this stage and he had conquered with nary a backward glance just about every one of them. He was my guarantee we weren't going to be having any trouble on this climb. My logic was fairly sound - after all there was nothing harder than a 4c to do. It was a somewhat worrying development. However, I thought, perhaps after another pitch he will come round. That gave me a bit of hope. Ok, the next pitch is an easy 4a - I can do that. I called down to Regula that she was going to have to wait a bit longer. Then I did three of the longest run-outs I have done for quite some time. You have to understand that I had grown used to considering a gap of four metres between two bolts as being a bit nerve-wracking. I clipped the first bolt after about twelve metres, placed a cam another dozen metres higher and then went to the end of the pitch. Brilliant hand holds all the way made the difference, it was just a matter of finding them. I got up to the stance, which was big enough for a wedding party, and heaved a sigh of relief. I set up the anchor and told Jorge he could start bringing up Regula. After a long time Jorge called up that he was ready to climb up to me. He came up fairly quickly. I asked him how he was feeling and he said he was fine, he really liked the view. But he was very happy with not leading. Ok, maybe Regula will do a bit of leading for me. Nope. She told me herself, rather emphatically as Jorge belayed her up to the top of pitch two, that she would not be doing any leading. Runouts too long, not enough bolts, etc. Bloody hell. Well, we were two pitches up a five pitch line. A very small part of me was whispering to rap everyone back down. If these two were too nervous to lead then perhaps we shouldn't be there. I hadn't planned on leading the whole thing. I asked Jorge how he was feeling again. He said he was ok. So was Regula. They weren't worried, they just weren't leading. Since nobody else was wavering over the general plan of continuing up I figured that we could just take a see-how-she-goes approach. Pitch three was ok, not as hard as I had thought it might be at 4c. It had four closely spaced bolts at the start covering the thoughtful stretch. Actually this was a lot of fun. I crept a long way up a tightening chute before slinging an old tree root and heaving up to the end of the pitch. That felt really good, I remember when Carsten led this last time. He must have been a tiny bit bored. After the others joined me I was already psyching for the next pitch. I remembered it pretty well, the only tricky bit was early on in a high steep corner. In 2005 I cheated a bit by going around to the left on an easier line, clipping the bolts from the side. I did exactly the same thing this time round. The rest was a doddle, fun too, and the next belay station came up fast. The runouts weren't bothering me and I was getting back into the habit of finding easy placements for the cams. It was getting late. As a group of three we were never going to do this route in record time. I wondered where Lara and Martijn were. They must have been finished by now. I could see the stubli down in the valley. Martijn said that they would wait there for a while. As I belayed up first Jorge and then Regula I stared down into the valley, trying to pick out a couple of familiar form. One pitch to go, easy as pie. Just a 3b with a little bit of exposure. We were up to around 150 metres above the start by now. The view was incredible and I lingered a while, sorting ropes and talking with the others about the traverse we had to do before going up to the top. The contrast to how I was feeling two weeks ago on Pizol was amazing. I didn't feel like giving away climbing today. That last pitch went very easily indeed. Two bolts, one cam and an alien reduced the runouts to nearly nothing. The setting sun cast great long shadows into the valley below, but it shone warmly high on the wall. Creeping up over the top of the Bruggler felt really good. images/The descent sucked majorly. I never want to do that damned walk off again. Too slippery and too bloody dangerous by half.
Original da notícia com fotos - CLIC: http://www.haskell.org/keith/2007/bruggler.html
http://www.haskell.org/keith/2007/bruggler.html
ESCALADA - Jorge CamposSeptember 2, 2007 We ate like kings. Like Swedish kings no less. Oh yes we did. Leila had thrown her once-yearly crayfish dinner and we had consumed crustaceans, tossed back schnapps and sung like Helsinki's drunkest students at the anniversary ball. It was really a lot of fun. In the morning our trash smelt like an unwashed prawn trawler, but hey it's all good. Heaving the stinking mess outside was a little less fun. Talk about your red terror. Jorge picked me up around a quarter to ten and we headed through town to pick up Regula. Once she was in the truck we roared off down the highway towards Glarus. Along the way Lara and Martijn overtook us before we even got to the end of the big lake. Our target for the day was the Schwandital which is a hanging valley above Naefels, on the right side is the great Bruggler wall. We pulled in to the carpark about twenty minutes behind the ever patient L&M. We sorted our gear, paid for parking and then slogged in the last fifty minutes on foot.
At the base of the wall we could see that there were about half a dozen parties up there already on various lines. Lara and Martijn scouted for a route they thought would be interesting for them. Jorge and Regula waited for me to stop gasping for breath and tell them what I had picked out for us. It was going to be the same as the one I did with Carsten and Stine back in 2005 - Weinachtsroute (4c). We left L&M prepping for their climb, they were always going to be much faster than us, so we more or less said sayanora right there. Finding the start was easy, they have a little plaque nailed up to the start with Weinachtsroute stamped on it now. Jorge and Regula asked me for the plan and I told them the expected sequence. I would take pitches one (4b) and three (4c), Jorge could do 2 (4a) and 4 (4c), and Regula could take pitch five (3b) if she wanted it. I remember that back in 2005 Carsten had taken, and used, cams on every pitch. I also remembered that there were usually only a couple of bolts between belay stations. Good thing I was only going to have to lead maybe two or three pitches - runouts really mess with my head. So full of vim, viv and vigour I fired up pitch one. The first bolt was at about twenty nine thousand feet but I reached it without needing bottled oxygen. Take that Messner you poser! Ok, ok, I'm over blowing things a bit - but for once I went up there like I knew what I was doing. Of course the very end reminded me that I am, in fact, a mug. There's this ancient tree, some sort of pine I think, growing out of a big crack right at the end of the pitch. It's all twisted and gnarled, and incredibly smooth on the bit everybody stands on when they belay for the next section. Upon the polished pine I struggled, pulled and flailed trying to bridge the gap between the last decent foothold on earth and heaven (as represented by the end of the goddamn pitch). Undignified does not quite describe the situation, but I did eventually get up on top of it. Boy was I glad Jorge was taking the next pitch. Jorge came up after me, trailing Regula's rope. He seemed fine, amazingly fine in fact, for a guy who hadn't got to sleep until 4am that morning (Jorge had been trapped by some women in a bar the night before, they plied him with wine, beer and their sultry ways before he could escape their clutches and creep home, allegedly alone). I told Jorge that the stance was too small for three and he would have to head up the next pitch right away. He gave me a funny look. I dont know what it was. Whether the shenanigans of the night before had left him too fagged to deal with his first big wall, or if he realized that he could count most of the bolts on a pitch using only his thumbs, or if he was not confident about using cams in a really deliberate fashion. Whatever was going through his mind it made a decision for him on the way. He said that he wasn't going to be doing any leading. Oh. I thought. This was followed by slight disorientation. Jorge was my gun climber. He was my get out of jail free card. I had whipped him up a bunch of walls by this stage and he had conquered with nary a backward glance just about every one of them. He was my guarantee we weren't going to be having any trouble on this climb. My logic was fairly sound - after all there was nothing harder than a 4c to do. It was a somewhat worrying development. However, I thought, perhaps after another pitch he will come round. That gave me a bit of hope. Ok, the next pitch is an easy 4a - I can do that.
I called down to Regula that she was going to have to wait a bit longer. Then I did three of the longest run-outs I have done for quite some time. You have to understand that I had grown used to considering a gap of four metres between two bolts as being a bit nerve-wracking. I clipped the first bolt after about twelve metres, placed a cam another dozen metres higher and then went to the end of the pitch. Brilliant hand holds all the way made the difference, it was just a matter of finding them. I got up to the stance, which was big enough for a wedding party, and heaved a sigh of relief. I set up the anchor and told Jorge he could start bringing up Regula. After a long time Jorge called up that he was ready to climb up to me. He came up fairly quickly. I asked him how he was feeling and he said he was fine, he really liked the view. But he was very happy with not leading. Ok, maybe Regula will do a bit of leading for me. Nope. She told me herself, rather emphatically as Jorge belayed her up to the top of pitch two, that she would not be doing any leading. Runouts too long, not enough bolts, etc. Bloody hell. Well, we were two pitches up a five pitch line. A very small part of me was whispering to rap everyone back down. If these two were too nervous to lead then perhaps we shouldn't be there. I hadn't planned on leading the whole thing. I asked Jorge how he was feeling again. He said he was ok. So was Regula. They weren't worried, they just weren't leading. Since nobody else was wavering over the general plan of continuing up I figured that we could just take a see-how-she-goes approach. Pitch three was ok, not as hard as I had thought it might be at 4c. It had four closely spaced bolts at the start covering the thoughtful stretch. Actually this was a lot of fun. I crept a long way up a tightening chute before slinging an old tree root and heaving up to the end of the pitch. That felt really good, I remember when Carsten led this last time. He must have been a tiny bit bored. After the others joined me I was already psyching for the next pitch. I remembered it pretty well, the only tricky bit was early on in a high steep corner. In 2005 I cheated a bit by going around to the left on an easier line, clipping the bolts from the side. I did exactly the same thing this time round. The rest was a doddle, fun too, and the next belay station came up fast. The runouts weren't bothering me and I was getting back into the habit of finding easy placements for the cams. It was getting late. As a group of three we were never going to do this route in record time. I wondered where Lara and Martijn were. They must have been finished by now. I could see the stubli down in the valley. Martijn said that they would wait there for a while. As I belayed up first Jorge and then Regula I stared down into the valley, trying to pick out a couple of familiar form. One pitch to go, easy as pie. Just a 3b with a little bit of exposure. We were up to around 150 metres above the start by now. The view was incredible and I lingered a while, sorting ropes and talking with the others about the traverse we had to do before going up to the top. The contrast to how I was feeling two weeks ago on Pizol was amazing. I didn't feel like giving away climbing today. That last pitch went very easily indeed. Two bolts, one cam and an alien reduced the runouts to nearly nothing. The setting sun cast great long shadows into the valley below, but it shone warmly high on the wall. Creeping up over the top of the Bruggler felt really good. The descent sucked majorly. I never want to do that damned walk off again. Too slippery and too bloody dangerous by half.
September 2, 2007 We ate like kings. Like Swedish kings no less. Oh yes we did. Leila had thrown her once-yearly crayfish dinner and we had consumed crustaceans, tossed back schnapps and sung like Helsinki's drunkest students at the anniversary ball. It was really a lot of fun. In the morning our trash smelt like an unwashed prawn trawler, but hey it's all good. Heaving the stinking mess outside was a little less fun. Talk about your red terror. Jorge picked me up around a quarter to ten and we headed through town to pick up Regula. Once she was in the truck we roared off down the highway towards Glarus. Along the way Lara and Martijn overtook us before we even got to the end of the big lake. Our target for the day was the Schwandital which is a hanging valley above Naefels, on the right side is the great Bruggler wall. We pulled in to the carpark about twenty minutes behind the ever patient L&M. We sorted our gear, paid for parking and then slogged in the last fifty minutes on foot.
At the base of the wall we could see that there were about half a dozen parties up there already on various lines. Lara and Martijn scouted for a route they thought would be interesting for them. Jorge and Regula waited for me to stop gasping for breath and tell them what I had picked out for us. It was going to be the same as the one I did with Carsten and Stine back in 2005 - Weinachtsroute (4c). We left L&M prepping for their climb, they were always going to be much faster than us, so we more or less said sayanora right there. Finding the start was easy, they have a little plaque nailed up to the start with Weinachtsroute stamped on it now. Jorge and Regula asked me for the plan and I told them the expected sequence. I would take pitches one (4b) and three (4c), Jorge could do 2 (4a) and 4 (4c), and Regula could take pitch five (3b) if she wanted it. I remember that back in 2005 Carsten had taken, and used, cams on every pitch. I also remembered that there were usually only a couple of bolts between belay stations. Good thing I was only going to have to lead maybe two or three pitches - runouts really mess with my head. So full of vim, viv and vigour I fired up pitch one. The first bolt was at about twenty nine thousand feet but I reached it without needing bottled oxygen. Take that Messner you poser! Ok, ok, I'm over blowing things a bit - but for once I went up there like I knew what I was doing. Of course the very end reminded me that I am, in fact, a mug. There's this ancient tree, some sort of pine I think, growing out of a big crack right at the end of the pitch. It's all twisted and gnarled, and incredibly smooth on the bit everybody stands on when they belay for the next section. Upon the polished pine I struggled, pulled and flailed trying to bridge the gap between the last decent foothold on earth and heaven (as represented by the end of the goddamn pitch). Undignified does not quite describe the situation, but I did eventually get up on top of it. Boy was I glad Jorge was taking the next pitch. Jorge came up after me, trailing Regula's rope. He seemed fine, amazingly fine in fact, for a guy who hadn't got to sleep until 4am that morning (Jorge had been trapped by some women in a bar the night before, they plied him with wine, beer and their sultry ways before he could escape their clutches and creep home, allegedly alone). I told Jorge that the stance was too small for three and he would have to head up the next pitch right away. He gave me a funny look. I dont know what it was. Whether the shenanigans of the night before had left him too fagged to deal with his first big wall, or if he realized that he could count most of the bolts on a pitch using only his thumbs, or if he was not confident about using cams in a really deliberate fashion. Whatever was going through his mind it made a decision for him on the way. He said that he wasn't going to be doing any leading. Oh. I thought. This was followed by slight disorientation. Jorge was my gun climber. He was my get out of jail free card. I had whipped him up a bunch of walls by this stage and he had conquered with nary a backward glance just about every one of them. He was my guarantee we weren't going to be having any trouble on this climb. My logic was fairly sound - after all there was nothing harder than a 4c to do. It was a somewhat worrying development. However, I thought, perhaps after another pitch he will come round. That gave me a bit of hope. Ok, the next pitch is an easy 4a - I can do that. I called down to Regula that she was going to have to wait a bit longer. Then I did three of the longest run-outs I have done for quite some time. You have to understand that I had grown used to considering a gap of four metres between two bolts as being a bit nerve-wracking. I clipped the first bolt after about twelve metres, placed a cam another dozen metres higher and then went to the end of the pitch. Brilliant hand holds all the way made the difference, it was just a matter of finding them. I got up to the stance, which was big enough for a wedding party, and heaved a sigh of relief. I set up the anchor and told Jorge he could start bringing up Regula. After a long time Jorge called up that he was ready to climb up to me. He came up fairly quickly. I asked him how he was feeling and he said he was fine, he really liked the view. But he was very happy with not leading. Ok, maybe Regula will do a bit of leading for me. Nope. She told me herself, rather emphatically as Jorge belayed her up to the top of pitch two, that she would not be doing any leading. Runouts too long, not enough bolts, etc. Bloody hell. Well, we were two pitches up a five pitch line. A very small part of me was whispering to rap everyone back down. If these two were too nervous to lead then perhaps we shouldn't be there. I hadn't planned on leading the whole thing. I asked Jorge how he was feeling again. He said he was ok. So was Regula. They weren't worried, they just weren't leading. Since nobody else was wavering over the general plan of continuing up I figured that we could just take a see-how-she-goes approach. Pitch three was ok, not as hard as I had thought it might be at 4c. It had four closely spaced bolts at the start covering the thoughtful stretch. Actually this was a lot of fun. I crept a long way up a tightening chute before slinging an old tree root and heaving up to the end of the pitch. That felt really good, I remember when Carsten led this last time. He must have been a tiny bit bored. After the others joined me I was already psyching for the next pitch. I remembered it pretty well, the only tricky bit was early on in a high steep corner. In 2005 I cheated a bit by going around to the left on an easier line, clipping the bolts from the side. I did exactly the same thing this time round. The rest was a doddle, fun too, and the next belay station came up fast. The runouts weren't bothering me and I was getting back into the habit of finding easy placements for the cams. It was getting late. As a group of three we were never going to do this route in record time. I wondered where Lara and Martijn were. They must have been finished by now. I could see the stubli down in the valley. Martijn said that they would wait there for a while. As I belayed up first Jorge and then Regula I stared down into the valley, trying to pick out a couple of familiar form. One pitch to go, easy as pie. Just a 3b with a little bit of exposure. We were up to around 150 metres above the start by now. The view was incredible and I lingered a while, sorting ropes and talking with the others about the traverse we had to do before going up to the top. The contrast to how I was feeling two weeks ago on Pizol was amazing. I didn't feel like giving away climbing today. That last pitch went very easily indeed. Two bolts, one cam and an alien reduced the runouts to nearly nothing. The setting sun cast great long shadows into the valley below, but it shone warmly high on the wall. Creeping up over the top of the Bruggler felt really good. images/The descent sucked majorly. I never want to do that damned walk off again. Too slippery and too bloody dangerous by half.
Original da notícia com fotos - CLIC: http://www.haskell.org/keith/2007/bruggler.html
sábado, 1 de Setembro de 2007
"Minha Ilha Adormecida"
"Minha Ilha Adormecida" do CD de Fados de Coimbra de Jorge Gago da Câmara denominado Açores Ondas de Fado. LANÇAMENTO DE CD "AÇORES, ONDAS DE FADO" Letra e musica: Alfredo Gago da Câmara
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