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| Blind climber finishing Elephant Balls |
The forecast was wrong, all you had to do was look out the window. Mad white capped waves were rolling in, there was some weird vibe in the air, and Laurence refused to get out of bed. Anyway after some persuasion we went to a cliff called the Overworld, thinking it was big enoug to be above the water turbulence. We staired at the white water churning around and marveled at wind born sea rainbows, powerfull rotars affected your balance and a disconcerted disco of noise drove you crazy. Before Laurence could refuse I headed off down and we dis a route called Elephant Balls.
Probabably a bad choice, this improbable overhanging arete gets very spooky and lonely, as you cling on to fossilized Crinoid stems in a position of total brain sucking vorteness. The balance moves were a gass in the gale, gravity was tugging you one way, the wind slamining you another, and you yourself would have to throw wild hooks and quick jabs for holds that would move as you lurched for them. You need more than Elephant Balls sometimes.
Probabably a bad choice, this improbable overhanging arete gets very spooky and lonely, as you cling on to fossilized Crinoid stems in a position of total brain sucking vorteness. The balance moves were a gass in the gale, gravity was tugging you one way, the wind slamining you another, and you yourself would have to throw wild hooks and quick jabs for holds that would move as you lurched for them. You need more than Elephant Balls sometimes.
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| Moi équipant Dinosaur Balls |
Its so totally classic a route I will probably do it a hundred times but never in a gale , never in a breeze, never in a light zepher. After this Laurence chilled in a field of Red Clover and looked at fossils, I on the other hand equiped a pitch of utterness, with some niminypiminy moves of a magical nature. These moves seem to need three hands and two and a half legs, we will see.
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| Looking at a new line |
We then spurted off in search of calmer weather in another bay, where we saw mysterious smoke rising as if the cliff was on fire. Nearer to the edge it was raining sea water and I nearly got decapitated as Iooked over the cliff, a big slice of green foaning white anger whacked the bejesus out my head. We did Spunky Arete and More Spunky Still. Lolo liked the milder Spunky Arete very much, which is very pleasuarble if you have big arms. More Spunky Still Lolo didn’t like at all, it being mean, vicous and vindictive to those who don’t own claws and a carapace of steel. Lolo also got a bit of assistance from a freak wave in the end, which soured the air in consequence with some purple French expletives.
