Feet? What Feet?

As I sit in my tent overlooking hills of olive trees, cliffs full of routes, listening the ringing of the goats bells, I can’t help but smile. I know what you are all thinking, and no it is not a luxury tent. Its just a normal two person tent with a single air mattress, no electricity, and the bathroom is a 250 meter walk uphill to the main building. I feel that I am far from actually roughing it though, after all there are hot showers (if you’re fast enough). There is something so peaceful about these hills and this place that I find myself never wanting to leave. This is southern Spain in the dead of winter and the sun is shining everyday, the sky is always blue it seems. I can’t help but wonder why I don’t live here. 

As my life now completely evolves around climbing, all I seem to think about and focus on is where am I climbing next, who am I climbing with, and what can I project. For the record I have failed epically at picking a project. I guess my dislike of falling is partially to blame for that. I also seem to have very little desire to redpoint easy routes I just went the wrong way on. So my goal this year is to fall, and so far that has me on-sighting even harder climbs and finding a way to fight through the real shit holds with nothing more than sheer determination. I’ve been amazed at some of the stuff I am capable of holding on to. It has really brought to light that at this stage in my climbing life there is a big difference between holds I think I can hold on to and ones that I actually can hold on to. Realizing this is really starting to transform my climbing. 

When I started lead climbing I was so afraid of falling that I would find myself near panic when trying to clip the next draw. Especially if my feet weren’t ideal. However the more leading I have done the more I realize I don’t even need feet if I have a good hand. I am becoming a one arm wonder (in my own mind). I find myself doing moves I normally would hesitate to do on lead, because I have learned to trust my hands. Climbing constantly different styles of routes on different rocks has taught me to be adaptable. I have also learned the art of taking time to plan the next three moves before moving. T-Rexing is not sexy and it burns you out faster than anything else. My mantra is straight arms are happy arms, feet, feet, feet, feet! The number of times I repeat this to myself while climbing is rather comical.