We enter the forest, grateful for some shade. Aleppo Pines and wild olive trees line the narrow path. Under my feet, leaves crunch. The border collie is panting, his nose damp on the back of my leg. Alice thwacks at bushes, clearing the over-grown weeds. A bramble scratches my arm, drawing blood. The last time we came, the path was damp and the Cerris leaves yellow. Now the bushes are a chaotic undergrowth, crisp and crunchy, the branches creaking with dryness, and the flat palms of wild iris scorched brown.
My bag straps dig into my shoulders. My temples begin to throb. I'm sweating by the time the limestone cliff appears on the left. In the clearing, Alice uncoils the rope, smoothing out the kinks, whilst I untangle my harness. I add quickdraws to the clips, stretch out my legs and bend over to touch my toes. I reach up in a mini sun salute. Breathe in through my nose, out through my mouth. I notice my jagged breathe and push away the negative thoughts. The metal clips on my harness jangle.
The dogs whine, as they always do when we ascend, then they start digging, throwing up earth. I tie a figure of eight in the rope and look at my route. It’s a weathered limestone section, with chalky patches (from yesterday’s climbers) showing me the way. My feet itch, and I refix my shoe straps. I coat my hands in chalk, once, then twice, the sweat evaporating the first layer. I cough, clear my throat, heart beating. Alice holds her fist out for a pump. This is it.
The rock is cool to the touch. I press my body flat and slide my my left arm up. First climb done. Climber secure. I step up with left foot, then find a ledge for the right. I press my body weight into my index fingers and move up again. My position is now crab-like; knees by my shoulders, heart in my ears. I find a groove and slip my weight into a single thumb. I take a breath and push on my toes. I breathe in again, deeply this time, and feel my mind clearing itself of everything that’s not fingers and toes, weight and balance.
Two clips done, and I've lost the sensation of my body. I'm weightless. I'm all fluid and flow, and my breathe times into my movements. It's a mindfulness moment, the type I can rarely reach when I'm cross-legged on the ground trying to focus on breathing in and out. Or maybe I'm just flooded with adrenaline.
Venga! You got this! Alice shouts from below. The border collie yawns. The bushes rustle, and the birds keep up their singing. The smell of rosemary tells me I’m half-way, twenty metres up. It grows out of the cracks, along with thyme. The sun beats down, throwing dappled shadows onto the rock. I wipe the sweat from my eyes and continue.
To the left, the rock evens out. I could easily unclip and walk away. But that's not the point. It's also softer, covered in lichen and small spiky evergreens. A central crack breaks the surface, with small tributaries growing outwards.
The colour swathes from grey-white to a dusky pink, with streaks of black varnish trickling down. I’ve been told this is manganese oxide, the result of some bacteria metabolising thousands of years ago, as layers of sediment press together. It’s crossed with horizontal layers that form mini-ledges, which thanks to erosion and other things I don't understand, make this forest a climber’s paradise.
Not far now. Three more clips until the top anchor. I slide my hand into a crack and feel hot soil. A spider scuttles out. I gasp and clutch tighter into the crack. It’s deep and the angle perfect. It’s almost too good to let go of. I look up, mouth dry. The next clip feels very far. I’m aware that if I reach to the right, my weight won’t be over my hips, and without that, I’ll lose my stability. My feet will slip out and I’ll fall. The best way is directly up. I keep my body in position, and stretch up, fingers fully expanded. Damn. Still out of reach.
An ant emerges from the rock, followed by another. They scurry sideways. Absorbed in their own task, indifferent to mine. I try stepping up on my toe. It gives me a few centimetres, but not enough. The move will need to be dynamic. I lower my foot again, my toe pounding. I wonder if the holds are greasy, if I could try the extension again, I do and I still can’t reach. I reposition my hands, take it in turns to shake them out. My forearms are cramping, my shoulders burning. I wonder what the fall would be like. A boulder protrudes a few meters below. Would my hips whack into it, would my neck whiplash?
I freeze. My stomach tightens. My toes curl. The longer I stay here, the more tired I become. The harder it gets, and the worse I perform. I force my body to take a deep breath in and out. I close my eyes, and reach up, tip-toes. I visualise my kitchen, that I'm just stretching up to the top shelf. All I need is to grab the soy sauce. I let go of the good left-hand hold, releasing my body into nothingness.
But my foot slips. For a second I’m loose, rigid in the air, about to free-fall, but the movement has given me height, I tense my stomach and swell up before gravity can pull me down. I feel it in my hands, the edge of rock, and I grasp on, plastering myself to the wall. I yelp, then notice the grazed skin, feel the twinge in my back. Below Alice celebrates, the dogs bark, and I breathe again, my pulse thumping in my ears. I tie my knot and turn to my view, my prize. The rocky forest, turning blue in the distance and the haze of sun.
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