Though there are many stories I’d like to share about my summer spent in Brazil, I will focus on the final few days bouldering in Milho Verde. With a population of about 1,000 people, Milho is a lovely town popularized by its proximity to breathtaking waterfalls and, more recently, bouldering. It’s rural, with dogs, cows, horses, chickens, and cats roaming the dirt roads, though, thanks to climbing, a bustling economy is emerging with many places to eat and stay.
My girlfriend and I stayed at a climber's hostel, Milho Ventura. Serendipitously, friends I’d made in Rocklands the prior summer, Will and Liana, and their friend David, happened to also be in this small rural town in southern Brazil. The “Hog Squad,” as they referred to themselves, prioritized antics over sending. A needed reprise from my serious, outcome-focused demeanor. As a bonus, Liana spoke fluent Portuguese, a complete game-changer for cultural immersion. Within days, the ever sociable “Hog Squad” was popular across town.
While in Milho Verde, the only goal I’d set out was to establish one stunning new line. Just one!
JULY 31ST
Rafael Passos, one of the most prolific developers in Brazil, and I texted back and forth to coordinate a session. Around 3 pm, we were both supporting friends in separate areas. Rafael relayed, “I’m gonna be ready in a little while.” Two hours later, Rafa had been swept to another zone, and I’d just finished warming up on the classics in the Carijó sector. These included an old Rafael line, Duelo V10, which has one of the nicest pinches I’ve grabbed.
Eight hours and a lost pair of car keys, a burger mishap, an incorrect pin, a bad road, and some irreparable damage done to my rental car later, I finally met with Rafa just before midnight. He grasped my outstretched hand and pulled me into a tight hug. After opening and closing a heavy gate for Rafa, I hopped in his truck, and we continued onward.
I was bewildered as I rolled up to what felt like 100 Brazilian men, hurriedly scrambling past one another, wielding machetes, saws, power tools, caution tape, and shovels. Each donned winterwear–while I stood comfortably in my t-shirt–and each hung a hand-rolled cigarette from their lips.
Rafael informed me that the crew was preparing for the upcoming climbing festival, Milholands. Roads and trails had been clear-cut to dozens of boulders across multiple areas. Landings were being built, holds brushed and chalked—yet no one was climbing. These men were preparing an entirely “new” boulderfield to be unveiled during the event.
Rafael shepherded me through the boulders for over an hour, pointing out lines he’d climbed, tried, or envisioned in years past. As we continued winding up and down the fresh-cut trails, we arrived in maze-like clusters of boulders even he’d never seen.
After exhausting the stone there was to see in this sector, we meandered back to the cars, where volunteers were partaking in Nutella-strawberry pizza and Coca-Cola. I reluctantly had some Coke, parched from having forgotten my water.
“Do you want to continue the tour?” Rafael asked at 2:30 am. I declined, a bit ashamed to not have the stamina, but knowing I’d need sleep to work early the next morning. Rafael shuttled me to my car as the work crew continued into the early hours.
AUGUST 1ST
The following day, Rafael and I made plans to climb in the Retiro (Hë-Chirō) sector. After two weeks of exploring Milho Verde, I was disappointed to have not yet found the one stunning line I’d hoped would call to me, but I had concluded that this sector not only hosted the best problem I had seen in Brazil, but also the best quality rock and lines.
The highlight of this area is a ~100-meter-long, continuous overhang. This cliff is littered with classic problems in a variety of styles--each unique from the next. And the rock! The rock is some of the smoothest, most pure white quartzite that I have seen—a bit more glisten-y and crystalline than the similar stone in Cape Town, South Africa. If walking this stretch of rock is akin to watching a play or movie, then ‘Kaya,’ a sandbagged and unrepeated V13 put up by Shawn Raboutou, at nearly the end of the wall, acts as an impressive final act. For those who follow my “Quest for the Best,” this problem is certainly among the top international king-lines, despite it being on a cliff line.
I hiked in with Hog Squad at 5pm–Rafa planned to meet us soon after. During our warmup, I was drawn to a clean black slab at the very start of the cliffline. It began with a right-hand press and a faraway left foot. You must force yourself into the splits to hand-foot match the right-hand sloper before navigating through bad slimpers and slopey smear feet to dance to the top. All above an uneven landing!
After climbing it twice and singing the problem’s praises, Will and David both began “projecting” this line. Due to their lack of mobility, this mainly consisted of cursing and laughter. Liana had no issues with the split and summited on her second try.
As the boys continued projecting, trying in vain to spread their legs just a bit wider, I became intrigued by a wave-like swoop feature a few feet to the left. My curiosity piqued, I began enacting what it might be like to mantle into the scoop feature. It became evident that, once in the scooped-out feature, you’d have to reach out and around the short roof and tickle a blind edge. Soon, my shoes were on, and I was contorting my body, trying to find a second of balance in the cramped position. My back and shoulder spasmed. It was unlike any move I’d tried before.
Forced to take a break while my cramps subsided, I went hiking along the cliff. Skirting a sketchy and steep slab, through the darkness I glimpsed a beautiful, clean arete. At its base was a vibrant yellow spider, a Golden Orb Weaver. I made note of this line before returning to the crew.
When I returned at 10pm, Hog Squad was winding down and Rafa was just arriving. When I showed him the mantle I was attempting, he was enthusiastic–mentioning that he’d unsuccessfully tried to find a way to navigate that section of rock in the past. With Rafa was Mariz, a skinny young Brazilian with messy curls. Mariz impressed us all when he said he’d walked 13 miles from Diamantina to climb and attend the festival. His English was great, and he had a way of constantly delivering deeply poetic and profound statements. We were even more impressed when we learned this was his first time speaking English, and that he’d learned it watching YouTube and TV shows like Two and a Half Men.
Mariz booted up–his big toes poking easily through his completely blown-out shoes–to attempt the splits alongside the Hog Squad. I wasn’t sure how exactly he was planning to climb this techy smear slab with no toe rubber. He pawed through the stem moves and was quickly high on the slab above the uneven, rocky landing. I tried to shout beta, but he couldn’t hear me over his panic. Frantically, he hiked his feet higher and higher–his hips further from that wall than I thought possible–practically campusing, until he ejected backward. Landing hard on the uneven pads, Mariz was uninjured but decided not to try again. After we all ran a lap on the classic V4 ‘Olha D’Agua,’ which amazingly requires the climber to crawl through a giant water-runnel hueco, the Hog Squad called it a night.
As more climbers hiked toward the cliff, carrying heaps of pads and bottles of wine, it became evident that the locals began their sessions when we’d been ending ours. I opted to stay out a bit later.
As Rafa, Mariz, and I passed around a skinny joint rolled with hash and tobacco, Rafa shared the names and history of the lines we were trying. The slab, which had initially drawn us in, was a V5, ‘Tarumã’. It was named for the son of Felipy Spirro--the visionary climber and developer who first saw potential in the region. Mariz recounted that Felipy’s 8a.nu bio spoke of his dreams for the area. The translation reads:
I want to make new friends and expand my climbing. Seek support to develop climbing in my region. Open 100 new bouldering routes by the end of 2015. Serve as support for climbers who want to get to know my region, which is spectacular.
They told me Felipy had taken his own life. As we sat there at the base of the cliff, I think all three of us felt grateful for Felipy, and knew he’d be proud of the legacy he’d left and that these boulders were connecting us all.
As midnight turned to one, and one to two, floodlights extinguished across the mountain. We spoke more and climbed less. I learned more about the unique struggles facing many Brazilians. Due to extremely high tariffs and taxes, quality climbing gear is unaffordable for many. Rafa told me that it's not unusual for climbers to take out loans for their climbing shoes and to still be paying them off by the time they’re ready for fresh rubber.
Mariz’s hometown, Diamantina, got its name from the once-abundant diamonds found in its hills. In the 18th century, it was the largest diamond mining operation in the world, exploited by the Portuguese until all the gems had been extracted.
Now, the only gems left in the hillsides are the phenomenal boulders. I reflected on my goal of climbing a stunning new problem here and realized what an extractive mindset it was to have when traveling somewhere new.
AUGUST 2ND
The Milholands climbing festival was nothing like those I’d attended domestically. Hundreds of climbers from across Brazil came to enjoy the festivities. The area I’d seen developed a couple of nights prior? It was the main festival grounds. Never-before-climbed prows and highballs were denoted as “Challenges,” and climbers battled to summit and claim the first ascent.
I watched as the beginner category, mostly comprised of women and children, threw themselves fearlessly at a very tall and very chossy overhang above a steeply slanted landing and a mound of 30-odd pads. Dozens of spectators sat around the mountainside like an amphitheater, cheering louder with each move. Hog Squad and our Japanese friends raged on a cool, steep line around the corner, and that night, local bands kept the party going until sunrise.
AUGUST 3RD
The mantle project was on my mind as the trip drew to a close. Six days on, I needed rest. I decided after work, I’d rappel and clean the tall clean arete I’d noted in the days prior. I invited Mariz to tag along.
We approached to a deeply orange backdrop, carefully navigating the dangerous slab that guards the problem. Upon arrival, I found the Golden Orb Weaver still at home beneath the starting holds of the problem. Rope haphazardly strung around my neck and approach shoes skittering on loose rock and vegetation, I sketchily solo’d my way to the top of the cliff, lit by a full moon and chilled by whipping wind.
In classic style, following the scrub down, I decided to blow my “rest day” and try it. At a glance, I’d known it was possible, though despite many years of sequencing and sussing, the appropriate method was unclear. It was a rare problem that, despite its simple shape, required hands-on effort to understand the beta.
Some fiddling and improvisation later, I found myself mustering the courage to leap to the final hero jug. I confirmed Mariz had my spot and shot through the air to the bucket. I enjoyed the relief and exposure on the very tall, but relatively easy finish.
This climb I called ‘Nephila,’ named for the spider who resides at the base.
It was Mariz’s turn to climb, and he was eager to try a climb to the left of the mantle. I offered tactical tips and encouragement, and within a few tries, he’d done it! With each of us having sent, the day was a win. Though having already blown my rest day, I figured I oughta go down the cliff and try the mantle–the problem I wanted to do most.
After a few attempts inching closer to the blind edge, my shoulder and back ached and I began to doubt my odds. Then, Mariz gave a phenomenal pep talk.
You just need to practice and have more force. Because you have it all, man, to do it. You can understand? You just need to use your force. You have the crashes, you know how to do the moves, you learn about these much times. You are many years doing this. I just want to say, you can DO IT, man. Just need to want.
His words resonated–I have been here before, many times. I moved through the positions with confidence and exerted all my force, enough to finally control the subtle position, keeping my hips in just long enough to tickle the hidden edge.
Every classic area has some weird, difficult, seldom-repeated problem right in the main area — and I believe ‘Sua Força,’ ‘Your Force,’ may become that problem for Retiro.
I was fortunate to have a bit of a fairytale ending to this trip, snagging not one but two stunning first ascents. Though I achieved what I’d set out to do, my future travel goals will be to deeply integrate with the local crew…the rest will sort itself out!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Eric Jerome is a BD ambassador, V15 crusher, prolific bouldering developer, and a self-described 'bouldering nerd.'
