Getting over the Hill & see... there will come a time...

Lewis, working the routes in American Fork

Jesus christ. I am staring at the computer screen in disbelief…almost. Something, somewhere deep down, is telling me that I had expected something was wrong. ‘When do you ever send a route in 2 attempts?’ It is asking. I am grumbling. I check & re-check the picture that is on the screen. As I get up, I suddenly don’t feel like climbing today. Rather, sleep sounds like a much better option. I walk out of the writing room & into the adjacent one. I can hear Haggle getting out of bed. The familiar sounds of clinking glasses & cupboards opening & shutting seem theatrically & comically loud. She is getting coffee. I grab my American Fork Guide & return to my desk, sitting back down in front of the computer. That picture is staring at me. I sense it smiling. Laughing. I flip the guide to the appropriate page. Check it against the displayed photograph w/ lines drawn in to show the particular routes. Check & re-check again. Between the two of them, there isn’t an agreement. This upsets me. This pisses me off. It’s your fault, I tell myself. I decide not to get too up-in-arms over anything until I check w/ Haggle… I grab the guide, marking the page that I have so quickly come to hate, & walk upstairs to tell her what I think I have found…

Isolation Wall topo, 1. Siberia 5.12c/d,
2. Isolation 5.12b/c, 3. Wilderness 5.12a/b, 4. Unknown
Photo by John Ross

...I am sitting here now - almost two days after I found out that the route I red-pointed on 4/22/12, thinking it was Wilderness, 5.12a/b, was, in-fact, not Wilderness at all, but an 'Unknown' route that isn't in the AF guide; altho the route was fun, I would say it is nothing more then .11b, possibly .11c – trying to figure out how to write about this massively disappointing (for me) revelation of this moronic mistake, & what to do w/ it. & how to feel about being set back. My ticks during this Project certainly aren't suppose to grow. They are suppose to diminish. I never prepared myself for the former even tho it is starting to feel as if I haven't readied myself for the latter. So where to go, & how to get there? Sunday, Haggle & I, after learning of this slip up, decided to go back to Isolation Wall, to make sure w/ our own eyes, & if the mistake proved to be a reality, well, then, we would give the real Wilderness a go, get the red-point, & never look back. No big deal. The problem turned out to be this: Sure, I got the rope up, but couldn't figure out smoothly, the crux. Couldn't, trying to push the lingering confidence up & over the rim of myself, get the route on red-point. The confidence had started to evaporate. Condensing in sorrowful droplets on the walls of my glass psyche....


 ...W/ the window down the wind blasts thru as we drive back into the SLC via I-15. Another return from another unsuccessful day from American Fork. Another cigarette. More thoughts. More substantial silence. Haggle stares dreamily ahead. I wonder what she is thinking. W/ each weekend that comes & goes, increasingly my guilt is becoming tangible. I wonder if she can feel this. Sense this. I feel guilty for all the failed attempts of my routes. I take a heavy drag on my cigarette, hold it...& release. I know I shouldn't feel guilty. Or bad, but I do. Perhaps I bit off more then I can chew. Maybe it was fool hearty of me to put into place such an out of reach goal when obviously my strength is not enuf. More constantly I am finding myself embarrassed. I sigh. Turn up the music that hitherto fore was feathering itself about the vehicle & flick my cigarette arcingly out the window...


...I realize that there are times when the poetics of a sentence just won't do. Just won't work. I realize there are times when all you can do is get over the hill & see what is to be seen...whatever that may be. I realize that the mind is much bigger then the body. I realize the gutter of this life is filled w/ self-imposed garbage strewn by frightened hands. I realize the negative heart. I realize the turmoil of a habitual life breaking open into a starry atmosphere repudiating the past. & I realize that all this rests squarely & comfortably & solely upon my shoulders. I realize that success is but a single path of a thousand failures waiting for two feet to take to travel...