Climb On

Feeling like a legend, full of energy, just dying to climb, I rock paper scissored with Sarah for the onsite rights of our first climb that day. I knew whoever lead first would inevitably get all the on-sites that day.  I won the first round, but she wanted to go best of three... I still won. And, with my nerves buzzing I loaded up my harness, 6 draws on each side, top rope anchor, personal anchor, bailout ‘biner, ATC, and finally I put my chalk bag around my waist. I find gearing up almost a ritual. The way I tie one end of my rope to the tarp before I flake it out, how I load up my harness, the double checking and counting. Most of it truly is unnecessary but in a sport like rock climbing the last thing you want to do is make a silly mistake. In this sport those mistakes can cost you your life. 

Ready to start climbing I say to Sarah “Pollo Fiesto?” Which literally means chicken party. I don’t really know the whole story behind it but I guess check your partner sounded a lot like chicken party in El Salvador. Believe me there are no chickens partying anywhere, but this is to make sure we both did our part properly. Again redundant yet necessary, such is the sport.

Everything was good so I had no other choice but to say “climbing”, wait for the confirmation of “climb on” before reaching up and starting my ascent. It’s a funny thing when climbing, even though I knew I could climb the route, and that my belayer knew what they were doing I still found myself with Elvis leg. For you non-climbers aka Mema this means my leg was shaking. My nerves were still running high because this was not a route I wanted to fall on, easy granite slab with lots of ledges. It was also on rock I had never climbed on, I found myself unsure if I could trust holds and checking to make sure they weren't going to pull off in my hands. On top of that I had never actually been lead belayed by this person who had my life in their hands. I consider myself a VERY good belayer. I pay attention, I never leave too much slack out and I spend the entire time the climber is on the wall assuming they are going to fall, so if it does happen I am ready. Before I knew it I was at the anchor, onsite accomplished. 

I find it funny how “walking” up a route isn’t nearly as satisfying as projecting a route. Maybe that’s just me. I want to climb something so hard I barely make it. I would rather spend my day working through one route, and finally getting my redpoint, than easily climbing a dozen. There is no gratification in easy climbing. This humbles me, and again I find myself filled with respect for the first guy that took me climbing outside for the first time. Because before I became a good belayer, well … squirrel.

My Little Lost Bear

I find myself completely over come with gratitude. After having spent the last day and half diligently trying not to think too much about Tompers being lost, and hoping for the best. I managed to locate him on the lost property page of the Dublin Airport. I nearly cried. Yet again the people of Ireland amaze me with their thoughtfulness and honesty. I was rather concerned that someone may have found him and thought he was too cute and took him home, but it turns out he was just being a silly little bear and was still at the gate I had departed. 

I think it needs to be shared that this is not the first time I have lost the little rascal. I like to pretend I’m a good mom but the little guy has escaped me more than a few times. 

I lost him once before in Ireland as a matter of fact, in Letterkenny, the little rascal slept in and hid in the bedsheets, I didn’t realize he was missing until I went to take a photo at a landmark. I immediately called the hotel and told them I left my little guy in the room and that I would be back to collect him the next day if they wouldn’t mind babysitting him. Kyle told me I should probably tell them it is a teddy bear not a small child. We had a good laugh when I picked him up the next day from the front desk.

He also jumped behind a bed in San Ignacio, Belize last year. I didn’t realize he was missing until we arrived at our next place. I was sick with worry until the guy working at the hostel got back to me and told me he was there, which was a very stressful 32 hours. When I arrived at the hotel he told me he had some bad news, and I nearly lost it! He then realized I did not find this funny and quickly told me Tompers was fine… Someone else had taken the bed and I had previously slept in would have to sleep in a different one. I had visions of him being eaten by one of the hostel dogs.

I have left him at home more times than I can count, and I’ve nearly forgotten him leaving places only to run back in to get him. 

The irony of the whole story is the bear himself is called a “Lost Little Bear” and he sits in a box with his hands over his eyes sad because his owner left him at a train station….  Well it turns out this lost little bear seems to always find his way home with a little bit of help from some humans. 

Here we go again!

As I run my fingertip over my hands, I find a small sense of pride in the rough callused parts, the little tiny blood spots hiding just under my finger tips, my black thumb nail, the entire patches of skin missing from flappers, and today the raw skin on my pinky thanks to that undercling hand wedge that even though I tried a million times I still couldn’t do the move required to get me through the 10c crux. Let’s not get into the cuts, scrapes and bruises on the rest of my body. In the last 14 months climbing has completely changed my life. My priorities have changed. I found myself packing for this trip in a crag bag, packing two pairs of climbing shoes, with Bryan (my 60m Rope), Goldilocks & Barney (the cams), all my draws, personal anchor, top rope anchor, extra carabiners, chalk bag, harness, ATCs, and liquid chalk. My crag bag is 40L and designed to be a carry on, as you can probably imagine this didn’t leave much space. Not that I care. All I want to do is climb every day for the next seven months. Poor mema she thinks I’m a geologist.

I’m Europe bound yet again and this time the goodbyes were harder than ever. Saying goodbye to my little ball of fur and knowing there is a very good chance he won’t be there when I get home brings tears to my eyes even while I write this. Just thinking about him makes me well up instantly. How can such a little ball of fur own so much of my heart. It’s unfair to expect him to still be there when I return. I found myself so many nights over this last week telling him it was okay if he wanted to go to sleep and not wake up. But every morning he was there to greet me with his front paws on the side of my bed and oh so very excited I was getting up. Always full of love and excited to see me every time he forgot I was in the room and found me again. Love like that is hard to find. I’m not sure I will even be able to proof read this section. I’m crying like a baby drinking chardonnay on an airplane. Poor Margaret (the MacBook) doesn’t need tears on her.

I think it’s safe to say these endless travels will be coming to an end. As soon as I find a place that feels right. Okay so maybe not that soon, there is still so much of the world to see & climb. So don't get too excited mom! I really need to get better at taking photographs.