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There are times in your life when it all falls away; the bills, the screaming kids, that raging case of projectile herpes. Times when nothing matters in the universe but you and your quest for godhood.
If climbing in Kalymnos is one of those times where you forget even your own blistering VD—much less your kids—then you should have your doctor run some lab tests. The paint chips might finally be kickin' in.
Still, losing yourself to oblivion on "Aphrodisia" is quite excusable. HOW this climb only rates two stars in the guidebook defies all rational explanation; this thing is better than chunky gingers in lycra.
Reach up and slot the undercling masquerading as a cave. Stem. Clip. Now breath and enter the bliss. Mean but perfect cuts will lift you out of your dreary life and off the deck until you're fighting that French wanker on your left (on Les Amazones) for the same, chalked-spooged tufa pipe. Just at that time when he lectures YOU about proper Euro ethics, launch right—there's some perfect, perfect slots hidden on the right side of that other tufa pipe, the one you've been molesting with your right foot. Jug up 'n' right on spectacular tufa jugs. After the orgasm, send the bulge, clipping if you can manage it—sacking up and running it out if not. Seemingly easy ground to the anchors, until you realize you SHOULD have read this posting, shaken out after the bulge, and gotten it ALL back before attempting the very steep, very sequence-y top out.
Sandwiched between "Les Amazones" and "Nabuchodonosor" on the ramp at Spartacus right. Clearly marked in red; or just look for that Jersey-sized undercling viewable from low-earth orbit.
A dozen-ish draws and a Kodak to capture the moment when you realize this shit is free and that you can do it until your arms fall off. Finish on a two-bolt/two-'biner anchor.
Signage. Climbage. Loveage.
Milk that cling. Then send for glory, young leader...