Friday July 9th Climb

We went climbing on Friday. I had two very disparate mental ramblings about it. The first was straightforward. The climb itself was amazing; outdoors, challenging without being frustrating, different in that “invent stories that fit the setting” sort of adventure. Carolyn did some lead climbing, her harness weighted down with carabineers. Even so, her technical skills made hanging by one hand and bare tips of her toes look easy. Larry certainly showed me that even when taking antibiotics, he can still climb farther than I. The endurance of my parents amazes me.

But one thought twenty some feet up was that there is a path, even if I cannot find it the first time. First climbs outdoors are HARD. Finding footholds, reaching for fingertip placements becomes an exercise in patience. They are there, all I have to do is find them. Really, all I have to do is understand that it can be accomplished. I have this secret belief that if I someone I know and trust who can fly, and proves to me that there is no trickery, I too could do it. But first I have to see that it can be done, and then anything is possible. Hubris, perhaps. Fantasy and maybe a bit romantic, and really in the clouds, but those kung-fu films where the monks fly through the air appeals to my belief in crashing the limits of possibility. Maybe I landed on my head a few too many times during aikido practice. I should know better by now. But the real idea was that as long as I can keep from thinking about falling, rocks, snakes, my left foot shaking, and my right index finger slipping off the rock, then I can find the way up. Finding that calm amidst all the thoughts that crash against the brain of a neophyte climber is the real goal. We do it in all sorts of daily ways, typing while the television is blaring, driving in the rain, focusing on a book while a conversation is going on right next to us. The secret is just being able to apply it in atypical situations.

The other thought was far more morbid and philosophical. While Larry was letting me down the rock face, I looked up and watched the clouds against the cliffs above me. So I wondered if that is a differentiation between people. If they were falling, or if safety was not a factor, which would people rather watch, clouds or the rocks below? My mental jaunt took me to the idea that artists would rather look up, and pragmatists and logical folk would look down. My choice was split. The beauty of the blue sky and red cliffs, as the body falls downwards is not something I see often. But there is a part of me that wants to meet problems head on, to watch that boulder as I smash into it. I wonder if many people have the same conundrum, or if most people would just close their eyes.

At any rate, it was a great climb. Honey took some fantastic pictures, and patiently waited in the heat until we looked down or turned the right way to click a picture.

Yana, our guide, was also extremely helpful, and I certainly would have made more mistakes if she was not there. She explained to me how to clean the top of a climb, and carefully explained the steps. I figured it was a pass/fail lesson.

I passed.