 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
|
Unambiguous |
|
|
|
by Ray Purcell |
|
|
|
��������������� Unambiguous, I'll just leave you with that for a moment.� There's a certain delight that comes with a last minute decision.� Especially one that skirts on the irresponsible.� You know, skating on a commitment even if it is somewhat contrived, not real firm, malleable, ambiguous.� Opps there it is again, that word.� I had decided to be responsible a certain weekend, work on the fence, attend the church workday, be at home.� All week what was just calling to me in a near audible way was a trip in to the backcountry on skis- to tour perchance to climb.� And I was trying to be responsible.� There is a mortal combat between adventure and responsibility.� Or is it a continuum between Huck Finn and Mister Rodgers.� This week I had even mustered the discipline to go for an over-forty- physical; an exercise in humility and debasement successfully procrastinated on for four years.� The Dr. said 'well you are over forty' as he admonished me about my insane pastimes. Well damn it that should have been the battle cry, the anthem that carried me off to ski.� But the weather wasn't looking so good and that fence was advancing slower than my retirement account and for about as long. |
|
|
|
��������������� There that did it I was going to be responsible for a whole weekend.� Until my friend Scott called, 'you wana go climbing this weekend comrade."� Ahhhhgh, YES! Sure Sunday, "Fossil Falls sounds great."� Saturday dawned gray and bleak, the perfect day for a church workday.� After that I went home and knocked down the entire remainder of the rotten fence that had been a ball-and-chain on my leg for three months and up went a stable replacement worthy of a responsible weekend.� Sunday morning I awoke with the sun in my eyes and like Huck slipped out the window throwing off my shoes, ditching church, and heading out into a dazzling, clear blue morning- figuratively speaking.� Morning Edition was on the radio as I drove to pick up Scott, maybe there could still be peace in the Middle East, maybe we could get our spy plane back, the trade conference could strengthen the economy, so equivocal so ambiguous. |
|
|
|
��������������� Driving up 395 the desert was a riot of wild flowers having just been drenched by a late season storm.� Scott and I spoke of goals, options, opportunities, and pivotal moments.� Thankfully, the things of our responsible world at last faded and transitioned to the Huck Finn live-in-the-moment kind of experiences and dreams.� Ours is the stuff of a good climbing relationship, a common language, culture, and experience.� Not the I'll belay you, you belay me one nightstand kind of trip.� For us climbing is like good literature, a window into our own souls and the human condition. |
|
|
|
��������������� Fossil Falls as a crag is a basalt flow that followed the ancestral Owens River drainage.� The river reclaimed its channel bisecting a gorge between two flows.� The basalt having fractured in hexagonal columns while cooling offers amazingly uniform cracks in rock with a fine grain texture.�� We decided to tackle the routes on Scott's Bluff.� I started by leading On the Verge, a very clean 5.9, which seemed stout for the grade.� Scott then lead Finger locking Good, a 5.10 which demanded precise footwork and good crack technique- which I discovered in my case wasn't polished enough.� I did laps on this until the rock revealed how it was to be climbed.� Scott took the next lead as well on At Risk, a beautifully clean finger/hand crack that goes at 10b.� But my free loading on the top rope was over and it was time to get focused by leading Gopher Tooth.� This goes at 10a with a boulder start which on lead I bypassed.� The first few placements can be done on good stances but the last half demands tribute of proper gear placed right the first time off killer finger jams.� Until these climbs I had never had to rely so much on good footwork. |
|
|
|
Over lunch Scott was sharing the story of an adventurer who had stated that he had wanted to undertake a trip that was unequivocal.� I don't remember who or what now as I was distracted by my own epiphany.� Climbing is the most unambiguous worldly thing I do.� It offers a kind of purity in a vague, equivocal, contrived world, and I crave it.� You can approach a route, if you have the skill and focus it will yield and you are allowed passage.� There's nothing mushy or fuzzy, when you top out it's unambiguous and you know it. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
HOME |
|