I have never been one for long walks on the beach
but, a time long ago, I found myself,
with long walks along tall cliffs
above the crash of the Atlantic Ocean.
Alone, I would walk through fields swathed in green,
stacked limestone composing the frames of a kaleidescope landscape.
I would walk until I reached the end of the world.
To Na Poill Seideáin,
to Poll Na bPéist,
and to Dún Dúchathair,
Some days I would wander into Dun Aengus and lose myself amongst the masses, but Dun Duchathair was where I found myself while all alone.
Days were long and time was mine and on occasion I would wander to the far end of land and take my boots off and settle my toes in the sea and stare across the water and imagine I could see North America...
But mostly I would walk and stand and feel the sea air on my face on the cliffs at Dun Duchathair.
I wonder now, if I can still find the path to the cliffs of Dun Duchathair.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Adventures with "Off-the-couch" Carl
Spent this last sunday down in Prescott with my good friends Jill and Carl and their beautiful daughter Olietha. Since they moved to Prescott several years ago I don't see these two as often as I should/would like and every time we do get together I think of how much has changed and at the same time how we are still the same. Carl is one of my first climbing partners and even though we don't get out more than once or twice a year now he is still one of my most trusted and reliable partners. Carl grew up in Prescott and learned to climb while in his teens and in my mind must have been a young sport/bouldering prodigy. I say this because of the intrinsic skill and technique that he still posesses, even while professing to be out of shape and off his game. More on that later...
After an aborted attempt to visit Jill and Carl about a week ago (work got in the way) I woke Sunday morning to a text from Carl saying that he had an easy night at work, so I packed up the bouldering pad and the dog and set off for Prescott. I made good time and soon was pulling up to Casa de Goff. I walked in and was greeted by Jill and Carl while little "O" stood in the middle of the floor looking up at me. I knelt down to give her a hug. Much to my surprise the little beauty reached up and wrapped her tiny arms over my shoulders and nestled her head into my neck. I knelt there, surprised, and realized that she was softly, silently patting me on the back. I melted and honestly she almost brought me to tears with this unexpected acceptance and compassion. I think even Jill and Carl were surprised, if it had been one of us "grown" ups this hug would have exceeded the uncomfortably long period, but coming from little "O" I could have sat there all day. Slowly she let go and time began to resume its normal speed and we packed and prepared for our day out bouldering. In our search for tape we made our way downstairs and Carl delved into pandoras box of climbing gear out came rarely used cams, aid gear, bolts, hangers, slings, and memories of adventures past and dreams of adventures put on hold. Alas, no tape was to be found so back upstairs and into the Land Cruiser we all piled.
Our first stop was a random boulder pile that Carl had stumbled upon, I am assuming during a trail run. It is interesting the way our past shapes our present, to Carls granite trained eye there was a multitude of boulder problems to be done. To my eye, recently trained to find multi pitch lines it appeared to be a jumble of rocks. Carl pointed out some of the problems he had established and directed me to some of his projects. Projects not because they were too difficult, but perhaps I think, because they were high and potentially dangerous. Not something a father would attempt while out alone with his daughter or with his several month pregnant wife! Soon the shoes were laced up and we were crimping and edging and falling and straining. All the while O ran about in the woods and Jill looked on, as she usually does, with a slight smile at the corner of her mouth. We made short work of Carls usual problems and quickly found ourselves drawn to the taller, more daunting lines. One, a tall, rounded arete called us first. The first moves were off of good crimps to a rail, from there the feet come up to the original crimps and things become much more real! Above the rail the angle lessens somewhat, but the holds run out and suddenly you are 10, 15 feet off the ground! Carl made an initial attempt that led him to escape into a nearby tree. I pulled on next and was able to squeak through the final holds to the top. Granite climbing is quite foreign to me and I found myself sporting some new abrasions! From this boulder we moved to the next, a huge chunk of stone that sported features similar to the bow of a ship and the crest of a wave. The obvious line was a lip traverse that started at about head height and ran about 20-30 feet, gradually increasing in height to about 20ft, much like a wave. Our initial forays across the lip were met with shrieks and frantic back paddling as the lip rounded and the moves became more desperate and we became more aware of the height. After one or two goes each we analyzed the moves and scouted the blank face below the lip for any extrusion, knob, or edge that a foot could be pasted on. Then with a new resolve Carl pulled onto the lip and began moving out across the wave, a surfer on the stone. I've known Carl for many years and times like this are what I enjoy most. There is a part of Carls brain that I think talks too much. Full of doubt and misgivings if he thinks too much he often won't even attempt something, or stop mid-way. But occasionally it is as if he simply closes the door on that voice and suddenly his body is given full reign to do what it wants, what it can. He floated through the initial moves and barely paused at the blankest section of the lip and soon was swinging around the prow of the stone, moving comfortably. I tried to take some pictures to capture the feeling but I am afraid they do not do the boulder problem justice. With that problem in the bag we moved to the next line, which admittedly was likely not a realistic proposition, at least not with our two pads, a small child, and a pregnant Jill! We made an initial attempt and I soon found myself at that point where decisions have to be made... With my feet about 12 feet off the ground and another 12-15 feet of hard climbing to go I backed off and with that we packed up and moved to the next area.
On the drive to the next area "O" once again worked her way into my heart and I marveled at the contrast between her tiny hand in my scarred and wrinkled paw as we held hands while she dozed in her car seat. At the next area Carl again sandbagged me with his "Off-the-couch" antics as he cruised several problems and "O" wowed us all with her rock climbing prowess. I swear I saw her use a pinky lock gaston and utilize some moves that I am fairly certain originated in Stolby, as she swung her feet and legs level with her head as she navigated a slab! It was fun to watch her and watch Jill and Carl move smoothly around her as only parents can, anticipating her next moves and understanding her emotions and tantrums. She truly is their daughter and even at this young age she exhibits the traits, emotions, and expressions of both her parents. I find it amusing that they both attribute certain aspects of her to the other while I see both of them in all of her.
After most of the skin was worn from our finger tips and our muscles fried we returned to the house briefly and then attempted to find food. A challenge due to downtown Prescott being shut down for a festival of some sort but we found a suitable establishment and had a fantastic meal, a great end to an amazing day. Even though I don't get to see Jill and Carl and O as much as I would like every time I do I am more and more grateful for the amazing friends that I have and I am filled with pride at what amazing parents they have become.
After an aborted attempt to visit Jill and Carl about a week ago (work got in the way) I woke Sunday morning to a text from Carl saying that he had an easy night at work, so I packed up the bouldering pad and the dog and set off for Prescott. I made good time and soon was pulling up to Casa de Goff. I walked in and was greeted by Jill and Carl while little "O" stood in the middle of the floor looking up at me. I knelt down to give her a hug. Much to my surprise the little beauty reached up and wrapped her tiny arms over my shoulders and nestled her head into my neck. I knelt there, surprised, and realized that she was softly, silently patting me on the back. I melted and honestly she almost brought me to tears with this unexpected acceptance and compassion. I think even Jill and Carl were surprised, if it had been one of us "grown" ups this hug would have exceeded the uncomfortably long period, but coming from little "O" I could have sat there all day. Slowly she let go and time began to resume its normal speed and we packed and prepared for our day out bouldering. In our search for tape we made our way downstairs and Carl delved into pandoras box of climbing gear out came rarely used cams, aid gear, bolts, hangers, slings, and memories of adventures past and dreams of adventures put on hold. Alas, no tape was to be found so back upstairs and into the Land Cruiser we all piled.
Our first stop was a random boulder pile that Carl had stumbled upon, I am assuming during a trail run. It is interesting the way our past shapes our present, to Carls granite trained eye there was a multitude of boulder problems to be done. To my eye, recently trained to find multi pitch lines it appeared to be a jumble of rocks. Carl pointed out some of the problems he had established and directed me to some of his projects. Projects not because they were too difficult, but perhaps I think, because they were high and potentially dangerous. Not something a father would attempt while out alone with his daughter or with his several month pregnant wife! Soon the shoes were laced up and we were crimping and edging and falling and straining. All the while O ran about in the woods and Jill looked on, as she usually does, with a slight smile at the corner of her mouth. We made short work of Carls usual problems and quickly found ourselves drawn to the taller, more daunting lines. One, a tall, rounded arete called us first. The first moves were off of good crimps to a rail, from there the feet come up to the original crimps and things become much more real! Above the rail the angle lessens somewhat, but the holds run out and suddenly you are 10, 15 feet off the ground! Carl made an initial attempt that led him to escape into a nearby tree. I pulled on next and was able to squeak through the final holds to the top. Granite climbing is quite foreign to me and I found myself sporting some new abrasions! From this boulder we moved to the next, a huge chunk of stone that sported features similar to the bow of a ship and the crest of a wave. The obvious line was a lip traverse that started at about head height and ran about 20-30 feet, gradually increasing in height to about 20ft, much like a wave. Our initial forays across the lip were met with shrieks and frantic back paddling as the lip rounded and the moves became more desperate and we became more aware of the height. After one or two goes each we analyzed the moves and scouted the blank face below the lip for any extrusion, knob, or edge that a foot could be pasted on. Then with a new resolve Carl pulled onto the lip and began moving out across the wave, a surfer on the stone. I've known Carl for many years and times like this are what I enjoy most. There is a part of Carls brain that I think talks too much. Full of doubt and misgivings if he thinks too much he often won't even attempt something, or stop mid-way. But occasionally it is as if he simply closes the door on that voice and suddenly his body is given full reign to do what it wants, what it can. He floated through the initial moves and barely paused at the blankest section of the lip and soon was swinging around the prow of the stone, moving comfortably. I tried to take some pictures to capture the feeling but I am afraid they do not do the boulder problem justice. With that problem in the bag we moved to the next line, which admittedly was likely not a realistic proposition, at least not with our two pads, a small child, and a pregnant Jill! We made an initial attempt and I soon found myself at that point where decisions have to be made... With my feet about 12 feet off the ground and another 12-15 feet of hard climbing to go I backed off and with that we packed up and moved to the next area. 
On the drive to the next area "O" once again worked her way into my heart and I marveled at the contrast between her tiny hand in my scarred and wrinkled paw as we held hands while she dozed in her car seat. At the next area Carl again sandbagged me with his "Off-the-couch" antics as he cruised several problems and "O" wowed us all with her rock climbing prowess. I swear I saw her use a pinky lock gaston and utilize some moves that I am fairly certain originated in Stolby, as she swung her feet and legs level with her head as she navigated a slab! It was fun to watch her and watch Jill and Carl move smoothly around her as only parents can, anticipating her next moves and understanding her emotions and tantrums. She truly is their daughter and even at this young age she exhibits the traits, emotions, and expressions of both her parents. I find it amusing that they both attribute certain aspects of her to the other while I see both of them in all of her. After most of the skin was worn from our finger tips and our muscles fried we returned to the house briefly and then attempted to find food. A challenge due to downtown Prescott being shut down for a festival of some sort but we found a suitable establishment and had a fantastic meal, a great end to an amazing day. Even though I don't get to see Jill and Carl and O as much as I would like every time I do I am more and more grateful for the amazing friends that I have and I am filled with pride at what amazing parents they have become.
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