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Text & Photo: Pim Shaitosa

Pim Shaitosa travelled the world for five years searching for new places to climb before she realised that there was actually some truly magnificent climbing to be found a little closer to home. Read about how she found her way to Flatanger and the world's most difficult climbing route in the Hanshelleren cave.

I remember the intro to Silence so well, even though I haven't watched it for years. I was glued to the screen: the hypnotic music, disembodied voices echoing, close-ups of perfect granite, a single rope hanging from the rock and Adam Ondra's screams. It took my breath away. After sitting there and watching how one of the world's best climbers prepared and trained before sending the world's hardest climbing route, I was so eager to go; just to feel the stone and soak in the views – Silence, of course, was far beyond my skills. In 2018, I was sitting on my friend Graham's worn-down couch in New Zealand. I'd moved there for its dramatic landscapes, which sounds weird coming from a Swede, but I'd convinced myself I had to travel to find real wilderness. I'd spent most of my young adult life in Stockholm, and over the years, the urge to get out of there had grown stronger. I constantly felt there was something more exciting than the Stockholm party scene; something more fulfilling than a nine-to-five job. So, I left town and spent the next five years on a climbing trip that took me all over the world in search of inspiration. 2020 saw me and millions of others stuck at home. My summer trip to Canada was cancelled due to covid restrictions, so I decided to tag along with some friends who were going to Niemisel, northern Sweden's best cliff for challenging sport climbing routes. I booked my train tickets just a few hours before departure, packed all my gear in a stressful rush and just about managed to catch the night train to Boden. The climbing was phenomenal, but after a week, it was time to drive to Flatanger to meet the rest of the Stockholm gang. Great expectations, exceeded! I think time must have dulled my memories of Flatanger because it blew my mind on the first day – and the second day, and pretty much every subsequent day! The Hanshelleren cave was so much bigger than I expected, dwarfing the people standing at the bottom. The view from the foot of the cliff was just as breathtaking and looked completely different in every different type of weather. During the three weeks we spent in Flatanger, we had all kinds of weather, from "it's too hot in the sun and I can't climb" to "it's so foggy that I can barely see my hand in front of my face". Luckily, we had the rock gods on our side, so we mostly got perfect weather and none of the infamous gnats. Despite the excellent weather, I was super happy I'd booked a room at the climbing campsite. Only 20-minutes' walk from the cliff, it's run by the lovely and kind Olof, and on the hottest days, I retreated to the house to cool down. You can always take a quick break in the large cold-storage room if you really start to overheat. On rainy days, I was grateful to be able to sit in the warm and dry by the wood-burning stove. For all campers and van-lifers at the campsite, thereʼs a small kitchen, bathroom, shared fridge and living room. The boulder wall that Adam Ondra built to warm up on before climbing Silence is still in the barn, and I felt a little starstruck when I saw it and other locations from the film.

Quietasalibrary

It's been a long time since I was so inspired by rock and nature. A veil of calm seems to lie over Flatanger; most days, it felt like climbing in a giant library, and it's so quiet that you find yourself talking in whispers. The cliff is vast, and all climbers are so spread out that you barely hear anyone

outside your own little gang. I’ve always thought the movie’s name – Silence – was a joke because Adam Ondra shouts so much as he wills himself up the route. But after finally hanging out here, four years after watching the movie, I realise that maybe they too felt this same atmosphere. Most days, you can’t even hear the wind in the trees nearby. It’s silent as only large spaces can be; if you’ve ever been in an empty cathedral, you’ll know exactly what I mean. The cave eats up sound and keeps it in its belly – a record of all those who have been there before. You get a deeper connection to nature when there aren’t any distractions, and I think that’s what I love most about Flatanger. Except for the climbing routes, of course. They’re long, eye-catching, and very exposed, just the kind of climbing I dig.

Amagicalending

I had one of my most epic climbing experiences ever during my last days at Flatanger. I climbed a route called Sysover, graded 7b+, which requires extreme endurance. It spat me out at the crux so many times until, on my last attempt before returning home, I managed to pull it off. I concentrated on climbing with

more flow, conserving my energy and keeping the lactic acid at bay, and this time I had more strength when I got to the hardest moves. As I clipped into the last quickdraw before the crux, I found myself staring at the setting sun, blood-red, framed by golden clouds in a sea of pink sky. This vista seemed to wash away all the exhaustion and fatigue, and I climbed into the crux refreshed. When I came to the penultimate move in the crux, I happened to look to the right and could see the tumble of blocks at the foot of the cliff outlined by the sunset. One side was a blaze of pink and the other a deep, dark, rocky brown. I shouted down to my friends: - Oh my God! Do you see that?! That’s so epic! I feel so fucking epic! My friends laughed and shouted back while my belayer Julia shouted at me not to "lose focus" because I was still in the middle of the crux. But with the double boost of energy from Mother Nature, there was no way I was going to fall off now. I felt as strong as the mountain I was climbing on and grateful that I’d been able to experience this moment here, now, and with my friends. Flatanger is a fantastic place that attracts climbers from all corners of the world. People of all skill levels make the pilgrimage here, from top professionals who warm up on your hardest projects to climbers who just want to enjoy the awe-inspiring views. And best of all: it's much closer to Stockholm than New Zealand!