Saturday, November 12, 2005
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Dwarfed in the storm surge - 60ft cliff drop below. Monsterious winter waves up on Lewis at Rubha Robhanais lighthouse - just beyond the An t-Súil sport project- I disappeared inside this one a second later...it was quite damp. Surges like these invariably drag anything they find, back toward the edge kicking & screaming. There are small memorials in this area, to people bitten off along with a few hundred tons of cliff, by a single wave. Yet jumaring through these cavernous arches & overhangs on a tiny thread in a storm surge, burns with life & tattoos the spirit with an irreversible exhilaration...For me, it inflames temperament into a greatness beyond that of any clear sunlit day. You will not kill climbing & all it encompasses by arguing out numbers & grades, only your own passion suffers, as you attempt to defile the expanses, there is so much more beyond - the rule...The dug hid in the wagon long before I decided it was definately time to pack away the shunt & wet ropes. The holds get a bit slippy in these conditions anyway aye. Indoor climbing walls? pah! pre-packaged - safety regulated - numbered, restricted..& - soulless...
How can you truly warm yer heart beside a home fire old son, if you don't allow yer soul to race unfettered through the cold flow of existence...through truths primal wilderness. You think you know numbers?...You probably only do...
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posted by ※Sgian Dubh ※ at 6:29 PM | 
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