rate immediately drop to manageable levels. Relatively easier climbing allows access to the ledge at the start of the hardest section with the thin holds. Tension mounts inside me and I glance down to the valley floor for re-assurance from Guida. She provides absolutely none as she is staring straight ahead and not upwards; emotional expletives explode inside me. She asks if I am ok and I realise she is actually watching my every move intently with the aid of some bizarre prism glasses that give the wearer an alien or voyeur appearance. The fifth bolt is clipped at full stretch from small holds above the ledge; this is my protection for the next 4 to 5m of climbing. The holds feel smaller than last week. I try to dry the emerging sweet on my hands with chalk but it makes little discernable difference to my grip. “Focus, focus, think sequence and do not rush, control the movement and be deliberate,” I internally shout at myself with little effect. I pull up on my left hand, well two finger tips pressed into a small depression in the rock. I jump my right hand up from one small edge to another. Right foot up to an out of sight hold and twist body to transfer weight. “Focus and breathe, focus and breathe.” I am now three or four metres above the ledge. The rope that I am trusting to arrest a fall is hanging under me, snacking through the carabineer and down to Guida on the ground. A few more scratchy, unconvincingly executed moves yield further progress up the wall and then it starts going wrong. My body position is not right and my attempt to adjust my weight between my feet exacerbates the feeling of unbalance and the rising discomfort within me. The majority of my weight is now supported by two finger tips tenuously pressed into a small depression at waist height. If there was a sound track to my predicament it was rapidly changing from soothing through to some structured heavy metal and Motor Head are about to make an appearance. I am still trying to push the focus and breathe mantra but fail, big
time. I glance down to assess my feet knowing that I only have very limited time to adjust their position. I noticed my safety rope is inadvertently hooked behind my heel meaning that if I fall there is a high chance I will invert into a head first position and the ledge below is suddenly very close. Sweat is injected onto my hands and the full line up of Monsters of Rock join the sound track. Visions of shattered heads, blood and gore fill my eyes and then my foot pops off the rock. I push back as hard as I can to try and clear the ledge below while disengaging my heel from the rope. Time slows as I move into freefall and awaited impact on the ledge below. I notice that it is a still day, fresh and clean with birds singing. And then the rope drew tight, arresting my fall and there is no impact. I hang below the ledge the right way up and my head is intact, no blood, no red no pain. Adrenaline levels settle along with my breathing, Motor Head had left the stage; life is good. ‘Deep breathe focus, stop being pathetic and get a grip, you can and have done this. Your head is the barrier not the rock.’ And then there comes a time that I imagine all adventure sports participants experience, just “set the dials for the centre of the sun” and commit, and I mean truly commit with everything physically and mentally. The world reduces to a cone of pure focus and the next few seconds of events. Nothing else matters and with this almost altered state comes a clarity of thought, control of movement and a balanced state of mind, body and immediate environment that allows what had been insurmountable to be achievable. The rock can be climbed, the mountain can be skied, and the wave can be surfed. With the switch in my head state the holds did not get bigger, but I can use them. My feet stick to the rock and my movements take me naturally into balance. Uncertainty is replaced by a positive flow of movement that for moments feels like poetry. Ten minutes later I am almost at the top of the climb. Yes there are moments of uncertainty such as the sudden rise of involuntary spasms in both legs as I try to move across foot placements that are akin to almost vertical polished glass and upwards progress dependent on levitation. Disco leg is very funny as long as you are not the performer and after momentarily faltering I regained composure and move upwards to the top. Relief, elation and a hit of endorphins that leave me shaking controllably combined with a major smiley. And plod, plod, small slip off loose rock but the top of the scree was now in sight. Where had the last hour gone I asked myself, that was not too bad. Many thanks to Guida on belay and Intikhab behind the lens along with encouragement from both of you. RockIt, provisional grade of F6C+.
Yes you too can look like an alien
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Photos: Intikhab.
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