John Postlethwaite shapes a collection of 'jottings' into an essay on movement, meaning and the words we use to describe climbing experiences and its merits as an activity
I love climbing; it captivates me. It gives me great pleasure; the fun of getting out and the satisfaction of achievement. But in the grand scheme of things I know that it is no more than hanging onto rock and not that important, especially not today.
So why is something so trivial so important to me?
Hi James, this one is on me; however the reason I’d used it without dropping you a line was because the following box had been ticked when the image was uploaded - hence I’d figured (rightly or wrongly) that there wouldn’t be a problem.
That was wonderful, John.
I vividly remember Liam "dial in and set his clock to rock time" - it was humbling but a pleasure to watch.
I'll never forget nipping up to the Lakes with him one lunchtime, doing Gimmer String in the afternoon (he cruised the weird crux sequence and I pretended to because I had a top rope), bivvying next to Stickle Tarn and then doing Capella and Golden Slipper on Pavey the next morning. It's hard to imagine being that carefree and innocent now. Great times.
Let's have a pint soon.
That was wonderful John. Brought back loads of great memories of climbing with Liam, especially of days that started off highly ambitious, but in the end that ambition was always replaced by something much deeper, and much less quantifiable than the routes we climbed to failed to climb