Thursday, 15 May 2014
This post is a confessional, an admission of guilt, a cleansing of the soul. I have done a bad thing- something reprehensible, something I just can't undo. It's a simple case of murder, murder most horrid and I am the perpetrator. I will not make excuses: I am guilty, I just need to share this burden before they send me away to dwell with others who are guilty of crimes against climbing.
It was the last Thursday of term, the hour had sprung forward and there was enough daylight to climb after work. I was due to train, however the fine grain of the wood I was about to work repetitively did not appeal. I needed to feel fine granules of rock under my tips. Time was short, darkness was approaching, an hour at Pex was all I was going to get; however an hour on Pisa Wall in my world is the equivalent of a full-blown session anywhere else. I jumped into the car and disappeared into the gathering gloom.
As I drove eastwards, showers plagued the Cheshire plain and a strange half-light dulled the edges of reality; everything felt dark, an edgy atmosphere gripped my car. Nevertheless, when I arrived at the quarry I was relieved to find everything dry; though the feeling of unease lingered. Pex had escaped the showers and the rock was good and grippy. The feeling of friction transmitted through my fingers lulled me into a false sense of positivity, whilst everything around me warned that evil was near. Happily trapped in my dynamic bubble, bouncing between holds, I did not notice the skies darkening and remained blissfully unaware of the horror that inched its way towards me. The deeper into the circuit I got, the more vulnerable I became. My own enthusiasm made me greedy for more problems, milking the light for every last move it could facilitate. In my rabid state I was unaware of my own gradual slide into darkness, little did I know that I could be capable of dastardly deeds, that I would be the villain of this piece.
I decided that one more sit-start would be possible. It started to spit with rain, the wind grew in strength and the light had all but disappeared. The omens were bad but I was propelled by a demonic energy, a need to consume climbing! I sat down and threw for a hold that I have used a thousand times, a hold that has been used by legions; a hold that has borne the weight and expectations of the entire Merseyside climbing scene at some point. I pulled up and was sent into a violent spin. The hold exploded from the wall releasing such energy that it banished the evil climbing spirit from the quarry that had possessed me. I sat sat there on my mat, dizzy. I could not comprehend what had happened: I was on the floor, bruised and covered in sand. I looked up and saw the massive rock scar that was now superimposed on Pisa's red, chalky patina. I moved from a state of incomprehension to realisation to remorse in a blink of an eye and wailed to the winds "What have I done?''
So, I admit it was me; I pulled the hold off Pisa at Pex. I disproved the prevailing theory that this wall was made of unbreakable sandstone that could stand up to the elements and all that could be thrown at it for all eternity I will take my punishment, hanging my head in shame. I am a killer full of remorse. I mourn the myriad of eliminates that have now been lost to the world and can only hope that in time I will be forgiven; it is more than I deserve.
Thanks to Fatneck for collecting the evidence in the photograph above.