"So, is this a 5.9 or a 10a?"
"Let me see the book. Hmm, it says 10b/c here. You up for it?"
"Well, if not, the fall's good."
"Tie up. I'll belay."
Five minutes later...
"Good to go."
"Don't fuck up."
"Thanks. Where's the first bolt?"
"About 15 feet up. Wanna stick-clip?"
"Nah, only looks like a 6 to get there."
"Okay, but I'm not carrying you out."
Grunt. Moan. Bitch. Wheeze.
"Clipping. Damn, I'm pumping out. Where do I go?"
"I think you should head right. Drop-knee, gaston with your left on the flake, grab the crimp as the intermediate, and bump up to the sloper."
"What about my right foot? Ya see anything good for it?"
"Well, you could always heel hook about 3 feet up. You might be able to rock on if your balance is good, which would probably let you clip in. Otherwise, you could always flag it."
"Watch me."
"Okay, let me put you on belay. Kidding. Watching."
"Fuck, falling! Good catch."
"Yeah, it was pretty dynamic. I flew up about 6 feet."
Later still...
"Coming down. Do you want me to clean it or are you going to TR it."
"Hmm, feeling weak. I guess I'll TR. Just leave in a few directionals. Good climb."
"Thanks. I'm wiped. There goes my on-sight."
This conversation will be had several times over the course of a day. And I still wonder why no one understands me.
posted by Michel @ 1:11 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home