Sure, it must have been a scary and draining thing to hammer out that placement while hanging from the hook, but the subsequent lead out was probably easier, on that earlier occasion, than what I had just repeated, due to the insurance I had originally carried. The briefest moment, but well rewarded by an excellence of climbing and a grandness of position.Īnd I sat at the top as I belayed, reflecting on what it means to be brave and considering how, for a while, I used to carry extra courage in my chalk bag (in the form of an old fashioned hand drill, plus a hammer in a holster, and a skyhook to hang off, hands free while I drilled). Although entirely forgotten, one scary section higher up required a modest lead-out above a single bolt, enough to prompt a brief inner search for the confidence required.
And yes, it still held its elegance in the form of an orange corner with a bit of brilliant bridging, which was all that I could remember. It was a lovely idea.įirstly though, I went out to Butterbox Point with a young accomplice who was a tonic of keenness and trust, and for old times sake tracked down and repeated a 21 from long ago (For Whom The Billy Boils, gone now from the guide book). So I thought, perhaps I could find my way back via some new route, but long and pleasant, and maybe even easy.
There is a saying, always follow your own advice, which I haven’t always done.Īlthough I could have used some good advice, not least about how to get my motivation for climbing back, which had almost collapsed.
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