And there it is, rising from the surrounding fields, volcano turned climbing frame by the years.
And here I am, laden with gear and climbers' tales, clanking towards the rock, hubris and fear forcing me on.
It's a beautiful day, but I'm grateful for the banality of blue sky and sun; after rain it stays greasy here for days giving 'interesting' climbing when the days shorten and the sun is too distant to warm the rock. Today, though, as we hunch over the topo I can feel the sun's warmth beating out at me from the cliff face.
Adam points upwards, calmly relating guidebook certainties to the myriad lines above. He's discussing, not instructing, conveying confidence. For me he's an ideal partner, patient when I'm nervously faffing. The preparation is over. I'm tied on, gear selected and racked-I mutter to myself, "quickdraws on the left, pro on the right," - tug the rope to check the knot. All the hours studying the climbing manual, the fumbling practise sessions, all of it has led up to this walk towards the rock.
I look up. The foreshortening makes the face look steep- I look down quickly, trying to stop the 'what ifs' taking hold. I study the rock in front of me, trying to unlock the first moves. There's a foot hold, the angle is too easy to need more than a steadying hand. Now the other foot and - I'm climbing. “Climbing” I call in case my partner, a good three feet away, hasn't noticed. Everything else disappears; the city we left behind, friends, lovers all gone from my mind leaving just this simple goal- the top.
I concentrate on the moves, the strangeness of the rope not being in view forgotten as hands and feet find holds. Need a runner. A crack appears. I put in a fingertip- no 3 nut? I find the crab with numbers 1 to 6, try a 3. Tug twice to check it's seated properly. My first piece of pro'. As I reach for a quickdraw I notice the strain on my calves; I'm glad when the gate clicks home, trapping the rope so I can call “runner on” and move again. With a good piece of gear in I'm free to play, enjoying the moves without worrying about technicalities, without thinking at all. The feeling doesn't last long; confidence running out with the rope I start looking for another runner. There's nothing obvious so I keep going as the questions crowd in: will there be a hard move before I can get some more pro in? Will I fall before I find a placement? I move more slowly, mentally rehearsing each move before I commit.
Just as the gremlins are starting to get to me I spot a big crack to my left. A hex? Yes; it seats first time. A real bomber- you could hold a hippo on that. Confidence restored I move on.
More moves, more gear and then, all too soon, it's over. “Safe” I call, hoping I don't sound like a chav... And safe I am. There's plenty of room up here, but anchors? I've worried most about this. If I fall on my gear and it pulls no one else gets hurt. If I build a poor belay and Adam falls then my failure could kill us both. I don't want my last thoughts to be of the family he'll leave behind. Eventually I find a solid anchor, then another, run the rope through them and move back towards the edge. As I sit I see a small stone roll over the edge and accelerate out of view. “You twonk” I curse, as an image of Adam looking up floats in front of me. A few more minutes though and he appears, carefully inspecting my belay. “Good” he says. “Well done.”
And I have done it, well or otherwise.
My first lead.
Fantastic.
I'm already looking forward to my first pint.
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