Going to America, Salt Lake Out door show here I come. Left my brain somewhere in the Middle sea, what is it with check in auto machines that I can't work. Passing through Italy what is it with their need to wear really strange obtrusive sun glasses, if Italians have a fault surely it must be this! But they do have the Dolomites and this excuses every thing!
My body is battered, I been upside down again in the vice like grip of ceiling cracks and my body is bashed beaten, not good. 18 hours on a plane might sort it out-will probably take medicinal quantities of booze.
On the last day I went diving twice, two different spots, one for depth, and one for cruising with fishes.
I love comparing sports, but comparing diving to climbing is weird, the progression is distantly strange. In climbing, a harder grade is not so much to get, a months work or so. And if you get strong fingers many many things are possible, but diving is about your ears and maintaining a really neutral brain.
Its frustrating.
Cracks, I was dreaming about cracks, the bed clothes where sweaty and tied in knots. I hate dreaming about cracks, knurly,, bruising cracks, when I dream of the sea or powder its smooth and about gliding, dreamy grace. Cracks, I don't think I like them, only on Wingate Sandstone.
