"The Finnish Line" | Simone Tentori

The Finnish Line is a perfect arête, about 8 meters high, located in Rocklands. It’s widely regarded among climbers as one of the most aesthetic, mind-blowing lines nature has to offer. Fresh off topping this stunning bloc, I want to share my feelings, my journey, and the process that got me there.

The first encounter

During my first trip to Rocklands, back in 2018, The Finnish Line was literally the first bloc I laid eyes on. At the time, I didn’t have anywhere near the level to even imagine how such a line could be climbed with so few holds. Especially when you see the arête with no chalk on it, it just looks blank — no obvious crimps, no edges to guide you. Even though Nalle Hukkataival had already made the FA, for me it was just something to admire from afar, not something I would even think about pulling onto.

The approach

Six years later, in 2024, I decided to fully commit and see what could happen. By then I’d already ticked a few 8Cs, so I knew the physical level was there. But this bloc came with its own set of issues: the height, the not-so-friendly landing, and the mental game that’s totally different from a lowball testpiece. On this one, even trying all the moves is tricky: from the ground you can only touch the first hold, and to work the upper sequences you’ve got to rap in on a rope. The arête overhangs, so just getting to the holds means swinging in, catching them on the fly, and trying to figure them out in positions that don’t feel anything like the real attempt from the pads. That’s why it’s so hard to lock in the beta the same way you do on other projects you can just try ground-up. In 2024, I’d decided to save my best conditions — skin, body, and headspace — for The Finnish Line. In my first five sessions, I always felt good on it, but never stuck the crux — right in the middle of the line — which defines the bloc’s difficulty. I knew other strong climbers had also fallen there after many tries. So I went home empty-handed… but with a surprisingly good feeling. I think it’s important in bouldering to see these “failures” as part of the success — stepping stones in the process of unlocking a bloc.

The send

This year I came back to Rocklands planning to stay twice as long as last year. Mentally, I was way more chilled. My first days were all about playing around: trying different foot sequences, experimenting with how to grab the various pinches, and not obsessing over recreating last year’s sensations. I just wanted to find the most efficient way to climb it.

• First session: just refreshed the moves, but the heat was a bit of a send-killer.
• Second session: perfect conditions — stuck the crux multiple times on a rope. Started feeling solid.
• Third session: more experimenting, tweaking the sequence to make it more efficient.

In the third session, after a couple hours on the rope, I pulled on from the bottom and — for the first time — stuck the hardest move of the bloc from the ground. I peeled on the very next move, but I was totally fired up: that was the moment I realized the bloc was actually possible for me. From there, the difficulty eases off — but the height kicks in, so you’ve still got to keep your head together. I checked my skin: good for maybe two or three more goes. I told myself, “If I can hold that pinch on the crux again, I’m walking away stoked.” Next go, I stuck the crux again, latched the following hold, and kept climbing. I knew the moves well, but my hands were almost numb — that weird feeling you get when you’ve been crimping hard in the cold and lose all feedback from your fingers. On the last two crimps, I had to improvise the foot beta because I literally couldn’t feel my hands anymore. It wasn’t the sequence I’d rehearsed on the rope — I just made it up on the spot. That made the send even more surreal and special. Looking back, it’s kind of scary: with no feeling in my fingers, falling from that height wouldn’t have been pretty. I don’t know if it was fear or just shutting off my brain, but I kept climbing purely on instinct, with a completely new sensation for me.

Aftermath

I’ve still got a month of climbing left here, since I managed to put down The Finnish Line at the very start of the trip. For the next few days, I kept waking up in disbelief over what I’d done. For me, this line represents the pure essence of bouldering: a physical challenge that demands everything you’ve got to unlock a single move at your limit, plus the mental game and the sheer aesthetics of the climb. That’s what I’m looking for, and what keeps me training every day — to become a more complete climber and to get closer to lines like this, lines that once felt completely out of reach.

ph: Siara Fabbri