I wanted t see Cornwall again, touch granite, and stare into the Atlantic, and feel 50% of my Viking genes throbbing.
The lecture went well, it always does, although subdued by copious quantities of beer, Laurence Gouaults photos spoke for themselves. From Snowboarding high Himalayan Peaks, to small rocks, my little life sparkles, sometimes.
Fly by plane, train to Penzance, car to a cottage by the sea, a girl called Sarah picked me up-she looked vaguely familiar. Sure enough we knew each other through the magic of North Wales…ah North Wales sea cliffs… what could be more fabulous…well Corwall perhaps.
So I met old "oppos", Chriss Ripple Grifiths, Eggy, and then Gabe! If you don't know who Gabe is you haven't done anything on Grit, Gabe is Grit. He was pure distileds inspiration, bold and gifted, he was the leader of our little tribe centred around dossing in the Woodshed, and on Windy Ledge at Stoney Middleton way back in the Peak district dark ages.
Climbing is not just a collection of numbers, although we speak of 9c grade sport climbs, and 8000 meter peaks, climbing is more, it is grit in the soul, it is the Atlantic wind blowing my hair on an early ascent of America on Carn Gowler cliff with big 40 foot waves!
notably my old "oppo" Eggy -on the left.
A young man called Voytek had kindly put chalk on all the boulders at the beach with his oppo (name please), their kindness allowed us (40 people) to enjoy this great bouldering area with soft sand lubricated with beer. Community can be a continuous thing, an organic thing, stretching across continents, oceans and peoples! I am fairly proud to be part of the climbing tribe!
I didn't want to leave, I'll probably go back, after all a few classic climbs escaped my grasp in the South West of Abdominal Albion.
Gozo as I arrived home, sparking a bit, fluttering its eye lashes at me..
Well thats it folks. Bye, energy for blogs is being hampered by living. A big up to Ripple, and Eggy, and Gabe, a big up to the small community of climbers in Cornwall, a big up to the sea, and the three dolphins and the seal I saw in the 17° water. A really big Fuck U to Ryan Air that kept me waiting, and where as usual horrible. I,ll just leave with a short political comment, Bristol did not have the crazy amounts of Pawn Shops when I went through it all those years ago! The UK has Pawn Shops, Food Banks, and CCT cameras, England is not dying as the Water boys once sang, but being sold off.
