Topic Author's Original Post - Jul 9, 2013 - 09:06pm PT
The pendulous stick quivered in my hand, shoulders aching, the quickdraw taped to the end defiantly sliding off the bolt that would save my life. People talk often of desperation. With repetition, our senses are dulled to what it really feels like. Ragged breathing. A hard, uncompromising agony and terror that forms a pit in your stomach, leaving you struggling to keep the rest of your stomach from shooting out your ass. Desperation.
I marshaled my resources for one last effort. I can do anything once. Even fend off death. Lift, shaking stick, time the thrust with the vibrating end, YES!
Third bolt clipped, pass the stick down to my buddies on the ground, and we got past the crux 5.11 wet section to finish a fun 5.9 crack. Not a bad wrap-up to a drizzly day at Swan Slabs.