Tuesday, 11 August 2009


So I have had a few weeks off, now what? Well its 10 weeks till holiday time so I had better do something about trying to get better at climbing rocks.

First step to anything is motivation, where is that going to come from? In my questioning of psyche I came across the theory of Manipulation drive. This is the theory that animals including lower species indulge in certain actions mearly for the reward of manipulating a complex and novel object. I quite like that its simple and straightforward, I like playing on rocks, cos i like playing with rocks. Although it sounds like an amazing cop out, we don't know why, so it must be cos you like the feeling! So how does it make you feel?

At best boulders are the perfect something, giving life to memories and good times. Local boulders will always be special for this reason, spots like Fachwen are so tied in with that first summer of this new life. At worst, they chew me up, bring out my bad sides, bitchy, competitive and insecure, a dark stormy come down from the previous high. The feeling that things will never be so good again. Beating away at the unachievable, no more fast gains, same places, same problems, the same moves again and again just for a two week trip to put yourself in an emotional blender of your own expectation and ambition.

So why? After many days of searching I have no answer, fortunately I suffer from something easily defined as natural enthusiasm, so my quest for motivation is relatively straight forward. My reasons are vast and varied, for years I have been a regular scribbler about days spent climbing, and things I would like to climb. Some of these make me feel horrible when I am down, a list from 8 years ago covered in problems most of them undone, a lot I don't even remember wanting to try! How can that be worthwhile? However in these times, I can also remember a dark bar in Austria, meeting a fucked up, mind blown guy calling himself the Nose. Describing to a complete stranger the beauty of the pinch and toe hook rippling the right hand side of my body, swap stories of why we are there, tell him you did a good link today, (he doesn't care or understand but he is very good at pretending) then meet an arms dealer and a guy who plays scrap metal for a living. After being escorted to the late bar 2 miles out of town, feed vast quantities of warm rum and brown sugar, the bar has a whip round for the pissed Welsh guy with no coat to get a taxi. I guess the point is climbing gives you a lot more than just doing the moves.

A selection of interesting people out there, look at the trousers on the guy.

After re-reading that I think I should go climbing, this free time fucks with your head...

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