It seems impossible to try and describe Fontainebleau bouldering, as much of allure is not materially based and deeply personal. There is a natural athletic to the forest, compliments of an extraordinary rock formula and the movement it encourages. It’s also the pure majesty of the forest; following in the deeply rooted footsteps of the artists, kings, soldiers and peasants that made Fontainebleau their home. Regardless, our passion seems more than meaningless in the forest, our motion manipulated into something closer to an expression of art then a generic gesture of frustration.
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