The Costa Daurada is sometimes overlooked as a climbing venue in Spain in favour of the better known attractions of Costa Blanca. In fact this is completely unfair because the range and quality of climbing in Costa Daurada would stand up against anywhere in the world and the density of crags in a small area coupled with the unique ambiance make it an outstanding choice for a week of spring bolt clipping.

The meet was a bit of a movable feast with various parties coming and going throughout the week so keep up with the dramatic personage or you will lose the plot.

Nick, Sonia, Fatima, Simon and Tui flew in on the Saturday night and luckily stumbled across an open hypermarket in Reus before scuttling up the mountain road to the La Mussara refuge. This was indeed fortuitous as Marisa, the guardianista, shut up shop soon afterwards and a later arrival would have been possibly noisy, awkward or embarrassing (or a combination of all three). The refuge was dominated by two groups, one of Welshmen and one of Ulstermen, of which more later.

The weather forecast had predicted rain for the Sunday and this proved dismally accurate. So the day was spent shopping for more food (and a "Neville" of wine) in Reus and checking out a few crags in the rain. Simon, possessed of the energy of youth elected to go for a run to the nearby village of Albiol which he was later gratified to find out was closer to 10 miles than 10 km which explained his subsequent lassitude. Tui on the other hand took the opportunity to leave the others for a few days and go diving near Girona, an activity less likely to be marred by rain. Back at the refuge no one had climbed apart from some of the Ulstermen who had climbed some overhanging stuff in Siurana. This gave them a new found respect.

On Monday the weather cleared sufficiently so the local crag at La Mussara beckoned. A pleasant day was spent racking up mid-range climbs at sector La Primitiu. The climbing was given an extra sporting twist by the intermittent rain and there were times when one had that sinking feeling just after pulling the rope down on a pre-clipped route, when a sudden shower made a cruisy 6a+ a distinctly slippery proposition. The sunny spells and quick drying nature of the rock soon sorted things out and all was completed without loss of life, limb or quick draw. Fatima meanwhile, inspired by the stunningly able Welshman Mills, had a valiant crack at the gnarly Esdiguardagaba (6c+) which she managed in pretty good style. Eventually the rain set in earnestly and everyone retired to the refuge for food, beer, wine and socialising.

Tuesday and the weather was gradually improving and so everyone went to the fantastic Siurana valley crags, home of La Rambla (9c+). Luckily there are also a number of more reasonable routes and everyone had fun on the classic Tan San Fot (6b). The nuclear powered Fatima was unphased by this and having had a recommendation from the doughty Mills had a crack at the outstanding Resentment (7a+). This was great effort and she would have cracked it but for a particularly fiendish move at two thirds height. Luckily she and her quick draws were rescued by a visiting Brazilian. Nick and Simon then top roped it and found it thoroughly deserving of the grade. Simon and Nick went to have prowl around the rest of the crag where Simon did the first few moves of La Rambla so he could say he had climbed on it. This being a statement more true in its letter than its spirit.

Wednesday was changeover day with Fatima leaving for Italy (complicated reasons, don't go there) and Tui coming back from her diving. In order to stay relatively close to Reus another visit was made to La Mussara (what the heck one could climb for a month there) and a load of mid range routes were racked up with Fatima eventually putting a rope up on Tu No Vadis (6c). Nick did the honours with his famous Mr Nicky Lucky Peugeot Minicab Service and whisked Fatima into Reus, did a quick shop, and returned with Tui. Back in the refuge that night Chuck blew in having left work that evening and flown to Barcelona, Sonia didn't seem to notice for some reason though.

Thursday AM and the party was further incremented by Phillipp who had got up before he went to bed to arrive in Reus at 9.30. Mont Ral was the crag of the day and after a few warm up climbs and a frustrating stint of bushwhacking through undergrowth ended up at sector el Riu. This was the cream of the crag and some great routes were climbed such as Gos Salvatge (6b)(wild dog in Catalan) and Nefertikis (6b+) in a great setting. The refuge was emptier that night due to the departure of the Ulstermen, an absence felt more keenly by some than by others.

Friday and the weather had really settled down though it was the day that Sonia was leaving. So the other side of La Mussara seemed a good bet as it promised a riot of mid range high quality routes. And very satisfactory it all was too. The cream of the climbing being Prisonero del Deseo (6b), Nick cracking this off having nipped down to the airport and returned Sonia-less. Rather than cooking that night everyone invested in a Refugio Paella, provided for a very reasonable 7 euros by the vigilant Marisa.

Saturday and the long term inmates were beginning to feel the strain. After a number of easier routes at the roadside crags Simon was persuaded by Nick to check out El Falco. El Falco is surely one of the best crags in the world with a host of top class routes. Most of these are in the upper grades though there are a few accessible climbs in the upper 6's. Nick and Simon knocked off Pere Mata (6b+) which shared a lower off with Arri Ricardo (6c+) which felt significantly harder. Feeling that justice had been done (in a way) to such a majestic crag they packed up and got cooking back at the refuge. Chuck and Phillipp eventually showed up having dropped Tui off at the airport.

Sunday was the final day and having settled up with Marisa for a very reasonable 6 euros a night the survivors (Nick, Simon, Chuck and Phillipp if you have been keeping up) sloped off to La Riba. A good crag rather than a great one, eventually patience and fingertips ran thin and a happy hour or so was spent supping beer outside the local hostelry, adequately entertained by the charmingly bucolic sight of the locals filling up plastic kegs with drinking water from the local font.

And so the trip stuttered fitfully to a close. You never quite tick all the aspirational routes earmarked weeks below in eager armchair climbing fashion but if your knock off a few and have fun then it's all worthwhile. And as with anything in life it is the good company an companionship that really make the difference and in that respect we were certainly rich.