Pages

Saturday, 20 June 2015

The Last Rhino, by Stevie horny Haston.

 Paul escaping from the clutches .

Back in the groove, back in the swing of things, all excited, ready to boogy. This route is very good, in 3 short pitches it takes you through the whole gamut of excitement. It is of course Mini golf compared to high standard himalayan alpinism, but you know we lack spiky snow encrusted spires in Gozo, so we make do with sand stone sloping roofs!

 A pink Northen redskin extends his arm to his brown cousin.

I like this photo of my royal pinkness. It's funny who we think we are, and what we look like, self image is a weird one for sure. So the route has been there all this time masquerading as a big gloomy cave, when in fact it was a pandoras box of special delights. It's been taunting me for years, but now I understand her angles, some of her defences have fallen, and I look forward to a long lasting relationship where she will be my dominatrix.

Simon on his very own  mellow route.

This cliff is now home, what it lacks in stature, it makes up for in tone and feeling, it is Fruit Cake Land, many layered, many facetted.

1000 routes?

The life force when the sea is choppy is good at Fruit Cake Land. When the sea is raging, so is your life, the bongo drums of your own destiny are loud and clear, and then of course you return to the domestic scene at home, and things become somewhat humdrum, and dumb. So life is flat, the age of Northern red skinned berserkers is over, the age of the domestic humdruminity is apon us. Thank god we have Fruit Cake Land.