So I had this idea for a route name, The Last Rhino, then my friend bought me a book called the Last Rhinos. Then this morning a face book friend linked me to the deaths of two lads protecting Rhinos in the Congo! One of these protectors of Rhinos had 5 children and one had 7! My life seems trivial compared to their work, but I try to tread a reasonable path. My reasonable path will be a great route for them and you.
Counting pennies for glue yesterday, this is bolt fund donations thanks folks, thanks very much. So managed to connect the bit from the bottom of our route to the bit I reversed aided from the top. Trashed a rope, frayed my nerves, fried my brain, t'other day and only placed two bits of protection. But today joined it all together. The route is scenic, airy, beau, full of strange textures, pounding wave sounds booming inside hidden pockets, odd perspective perplexing you, puzzling pleasure pulsing in throbbing throttling fear. It's great.
My second Paul was great, supportive and generous, thanks Paul. We both suffered, not least when I hauled two bags at once up Union City Blues, the route felt like a path, the bags felt like being Keel hauled.
Tomorrow we do the Last Rhino. Please do what you can when you can. While we were climbing people were shooting birds illegally, a police car happened by, they took no notice and drove on! It's politicians in the end who have to do the correct thing. I am not brave enough to go after hunters with guns, I am just a soft guy, and seemingly so are the Police.