Thursday, 26 February 2009

Poetry Pink

My fingers curl on to the inch deep "ledge". Respite... for awhile. Numb tips from the cold and from crimping sooo hard. The Mantel. If succesful I clip a bolt; faliure I take a 50 foot ground sweeping fall. In the zone now. I chalk and bring my left foot up to a small edge and left hand to a tiny crimp. I cant feel my tips, cant feel the hold. Reverse. Rethink. This time I rock up and reverse both hands, palming down on the edge, arms locked out, in the zone. My right foot creeps up on to the "ledge". Solid. Left hand to small crimp. Stand up. Clip bolt. Breathe. Its in the bag... well almost. E5.

I dragged myself up poetry pink today before the rain stopped play for Jim 'big guns' McCormack. My first E5 of the year so really chuffed!