Friday, June 17, 2005
Ξ - Ξ
These dark clouds building over the Coire are awesome. There is electricity humming in the still warm air. What a photograph it would make to get the black stones in against a fork lightning flash & the ragged summit peaks. The Coire is angry. Its viens are pouring with white molten streaks & it's barbs are raised like an old ridge-back that some idiot kicked in passing. It's fierce soul turns all these wierd internet argumentative types into a learning difficulties group playing in a sandpit. It just dissolves all the idiocy, the wittless retorts & the endless roundabout of crap, instantly. I bet they're still at it, wading in verbal glue. Find a victim, hang the condemned, exonerate them, absolve them, sanitize the passion, scream whitewash, lie & intrigue. If the climbing forums, said victim of the weak makes it back after the week is out, unaware of his jury, he finds himself re-born, vindicated & set free into absolution. Unless of course he had the stupidity to climb something vaguely steep, then they all fire up again like menopausal curtain twitchers. What a strange self-gratifying & self-perpetuating miserable & powerless court room they run. To this day I still don't understand to what purpose either, but, whatever bakes your cake I guess...aye coves.
But back to the shuffle now. They'll be at it while I listen to the wind shuffle over my gnarled old Quasar in the night, the sea 10 feet away. I'm trying the project traversing under It's Over for a while, but my real focus this week is to work hard on climbing the greener wall to the right, as an independant line, from a sitter off the big rail. A series of awesome & steep moves on literally, matchstick sized slopers at the limit of my wingspan. The sitter itself has gone with almost a lay-down start with a ridiculously deep compressed Egyptian on the right leg, but almost at the same time, you need a left foot into the rail through the overlap, which is at head level, while your hands are at hip hieght, your body heaving on a 120 degree angle, straight armed. That's without having to be able to twist out of the reversal & pull right while you're facing left. Yeah..ermm, is this climbing or advanced yoga? I hope Dave MacLeod makes it over after working at Glenmore, he's really gonna cringe watching me on these moves, especially after trying Trace Element. I'm gonna need my knee-bar pad on this one, something I havn't really used since the days of climbing out in Jordan & Khush Khashah. It's great to be back in the Coire & not wake up feeling like I've had a bucket of sand welded inbetween my spuds. Good to smell the cordite of focused wire cleansing; to get damp toes in the deep grass from shuffling around the boulder eratics, above the loch, & look back on dark horizoned islands, tacking into a fleet of beached stone galleons. I'm even enjoying the self inflicted million needle fingertip acupuncture torture. There will be a familiar tap of rain tonight. I'm sure a good island storm will have the thousand Argos tented Skye-festival goers shuddering. It's coming in droves right now, Nederland number plates & raindrops, but neither out-number the dragging curls of venomous looking fog, tracking purposefully through the jagged summits, pushing cold rushes of air into the lower cloying humidity. I can feel the collosal beast breathing down my neck, it's snarling tongue hungrily sweeping the glen. If it really kicks off, I'm gonna head up to 2300ft & the o.p for the night, where thunder is born, stones get rattled in the tremors & lightning flickers downward passed your eye level. The dog will shit himself, but somethings got to go bang soon.
Ξ - Ξ
An uair a labhras mi mu aodann. Agus, mu spoirad geal mo ghaoil ghil, 's ann a theireadh neach nach d' ráinig mo shúilean dalla air a' cháthar, air a' bhoglaich oillteil ghránda, sam bheil a' bhúirdeasachd a' báthadh; Ach chunnaic mi bho áird a' Chuilithin. Gathadh glóir is breóiteachd duilghe; chunniac mi óradh lainnir gréine, agus, boglach dhubh na bréine: s' eól dhomh seirbheachd gheur an spioraid...nas fheárr na aoibhneas luath a' chridhe.
A Cold-playing rush of light to the head
Ξ - Ξ
posted by ※Sgian Dubh ※ at 11:59 PM | 
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