It's quite different without a harness, isn't it ?? Daredevil's elder sister (Let's call her DES) asked me. I nodded, still unsure, if the question was rhetorical. It was the first time I was bouldering in natural rocks, and I was yet to find the answer to her question.
The venue was 'Garden of five senses', a park notorious/noteworthy (depending on which side you belong) for romantic escapades. So much so that my auto ride from Saket station had the driver squinting into the rear view mirror, and asking "Sahab, wahan akele jayenge? (Sir, are you planning to go there alone?)", as if a bachelor stepping in the reverred garden would spoil its sancity.
"No I have a fuck-doll in my bag, which I plan to screw in the park," my mind retorted, words not quite escaping my mouth.
I made it there, half hour later than the designated time, almost sure to be deserted by the fellow climbers (in which case I had to locate them in a 20 acre rocky patch). After paying the modest entry fee, I entered the park, and to my surprise, they were waiting near its entrance.
Wow! these awesome people are waiting for me!!! This delusion shattered almost as soon as it sprang up. In terms of experience, my contribution to the group was almost at par (if not less) with the stray dogs wandering in the park. So the obvious reason was that the planners were still absent. That meant I had to spend a few awkward minutes sitting with people I didn't know anything about. Awkward silence invariably leads to awkward words, especially when strangers are involved. A murmur about weather being good, park being clean emanated (climbers are fucknig optimistic lot), which was thankfully cut-short because the planners (read the most professional amateurs amongst us) had arrived. There was AT (the last abbreviated name, I promise), who seemed to be carrying enough gear for all of us, and there was ever effervescent DES, gorging on an ice cream (a mango dolly), starkly devoid of any gear. The two brought the total number of people to 7, four guys and three girls.
EPISODE 1.
With the leaders in place, we trudged along towards the rocks. There were several winding pathways, merging and unmerging, with similar plants as markers. No wonder the second timers were reluctant to lead before the regulars came. And then, no one can actually give much thought to the path, when every plausible corner is occupied by couples enjoying various level of intimacy (boob grabbing followed by a rap on the neck was the best I saw). Finally, the regulars debarked their gear near two rocks, that were standing head to head, much like the cards in a house of cards. This was going to be the their challenge for the day. And it did turn out to be challenging. I am not talking about absolute beginners like me (there were 3 of us), who couldn't do much apart from hanging on to the holdable portion of the rock till our hands gave away, and then jumping down.
Besides the rookies, who were fumbling like fools with the stones, the regulars too were finding it difficult to hang on. And yet they dubbed it a beginner expedition. DES, a ballet dancer of rocks struggled to reach any protrusion that could hold her weight. All the good holds were atleast 7-8 feet high, reachable only if you jump high enough, a sure-shot recipe to hand laceration. I had jumped-grabbed-held-fell this hold a three times, appearing a foolisher every time. The others found it amusing for the first couple of times (much like monkey theatricals), then went away, trying their luck on other sections of the rock. With me panting with exhaustion (fucked up stamina) and kicking the rock in frustration, DES asked me if I could help her reach those holds. Without a second thought, I held her from waist and raised her up (bless her weight, another 20 pounds, and I would have slipped my disc in process). That soft waist wriggled in my grip. Something told me that I had caught the attention of the group again. With their stares weighing heavy on me and with DES's wriggling intensifying, I was apparently committing some blunder, and still unable to guess it. I did the only logical thing, I lowered her down.
Did my hands pressed her titts unknowingly when I hoisted her? No.
Did her sports top slipped along with my hands, exposing a fair amount of bare skin? No.
Was there a nip-slip that I just missed?? Not even that.
Then what accounted for the sudden silence and sharp stares.
Lesson 1 (Instilled in me by DES, in hushed voice) : When a rock climber (esp a female one), asks you to lift her up, she most probably means that you interlock your fingers and give her a step she could use to extend her reach. Or you can clutch the waist. That might exult you for a second or two, but then the embarrassment makes you wish that you could just sink in the ground.
New knowledge imbibed, I genuflected (as if about to kiss her hand in a royal manner), clasped my fingers, and presented the step she needed. A gentle tug on my hand and off she went, reaching one hold to another, with the enviable fluidity. Paradoxically, rock climbing is closer to chess than any other game. The movements that seemed effortless from the ground, were result of conscious decisions, most of which are obvious, but a good deal are deliberate and make all the difference between performers and spectators. It took her just 7 shifts of hand, and she was standing on the top of the rock, looking down with a brilliant smile. A feat well achieved.
EPISODE 2.
This was all the spectatorship us beginners could endure. Shitty our climbing might be, but climbing was what brought us there, so we went out to find any rocks that could sustain our dalliance without breaking our teeth. So the 3 amigos escaped the scene in their search. Not too far, we did find some. In my eagerness to boost my ego (which had taken a nasty beating, owing to people who had better skills than me), I started scaling a crack in a rock rather furiously. As I described earlier, climbing is more of a mental game than physical. You have to plan and climb, not climb and then plan (unless you are experienced, in which case you can do whatever you want).
It's said that if you fuck a maxim, the maxim fucks back twice as hard. I made my way up 8 feet through the crack, before the crack started disappearing, and rock started becoming smooth. My right hand, which hooked the crack sideways, started trembling furiously while my left groped for a good hold on that smooth surface. Although the height was not too much, and the fall would have been along rock's surface (which meant a few lacerations) before I landed on my feet, it was difficult to convince my mind that the fall wouldn't be mortal.
Lesson 2: Don't be too proud to ask someone for spotting. It allays the fear of fall, lets you risk more than you were willing to risk alone. I was at my wits' ends before a soothing voice struck my ears, advising me to shift the weight more on the balls of my feet rather than its side. Apparently, she was concerned that we rookies, in our excitement may bite more than we can chew. Hail her for being so considerate. Heeding her advise, I shifted weight to my legs and relieved some tension from my right hand (and my mind too, knowing that someone will atleast try to absorb my fall). My left hand had now a few more seconds to grope around. I fumbled over and around a smooth rock to find a hold that was rough enough to support my left hand. With the hands and feet secured, I pulled my body up (pure physicality, zero grace), managed to get on my feet on the horizontal surface of rock.
This surface was just large enough to accommodate my feet sideways, with the toe of right foot touching the heel of the left. With my open palms hugging the flat rock surface, I weighed my options. Go left, where after a hiccup or two, the rocks were scalable, literally in a step formation, and I could make it down one piece. Or go right, making it to another crack if I could stretch my body like Mr. Fantastic, hold on to the crack if the crack's surface was conducive. There were literally no footholds on that side, and whatever support your legs could provide depended upon how well your feet could use friction, not a forte of my canvas shoes. Or I could have jumped down, while pushing my body away from the rock, risking torn flesh if my hands touched the surface of rock in midst of fall.
The first seemed to be the sanest of three. Hugging the rock, I moved towards left in slow, deliberate steps. Whatever few obstructions that came in my way were overcome by pure survival instinct (I know this because, after my first tryst, I tried the same route thrice, and always took a path that had no resemblence with the previous). Finally I landed on solid ground, my hands callused (no blisters yet, that would be later), and my heart pumping as if I had clawed my way through hell. The episode must have taken no longer than 5 minutes, and we were not even on the sunny side of the rock, but still sweat blots covered my t-shirt. I grabbed the first water bottle that caught my sight, and doused the fire that had built up inside my chest.
Half the bottle gulped down, DES asks me to spot her. She was going to try the same route (as far as i could guess.)
Before she even started, I knew I was in for a treat. What I had made look like culling a chicken with a butter knife, she looked like a jedi killing a bunch of children with her light saber. In no time she was at the same crossroads I was, with the exception that she wasn't hanging for her life. She was confidently considering her options. She went for the option I dreaded the most, going towards the right crack. This crack was 3 feet above the current crack, taking her 11 feet above the ground. That made a spotter's utility highly limited. Any misstep and it would be a while before the spotter could intervene. Getting hold of this crack was not an easy task. She curled her body, brought her legs closer to her arms. Once she secured this position, she let go of her left arm, scouted the crevice's surface and upon finding it conducive, swiftly brought her right arm into the crevice too. What gave her guts and strength to perform this move is unknown to me. Even though I had resumed my spectatorship on the ground, this daredevillery was giving me a second hand high. This show was just for me, the rest were slugging out on other rocks, and missing a spectacle of their life. She hung in this position, hanging with one arm at a time, shaking the other arm, trying to get rid of the Pump (which can set the fatigue earlier than you intend to). After the blood resumed workable flow in the arms (not the normal flow, it takes atleast half an hour for that), she dabbed her palms with chalk to neutralize the sweat. There was not even a subtle hint of any awkwardness in these movements, they were as precise and as minimal as they could ever get. With her second wind setting in, she started traversing the second crack. Crossed the arms, uncrossed them, kept the ball of the feet pressed firmly onto the surface for friction. This motion led her to the end of crack#2, around 15 metres from its beginning and eclipsed from it by a curve in the rock. DES, who had taken this route more on a whim than deliberation was in for a surprise now. The crack had gradually thinned to a point that her fingers could no longer use it for sustaining herself (same situation I was in, albeit with much higher stakes). A descent was imminent, and the smooth rock meant that it would be bloody if performed with a vacillating mind.
There was a young Pipal tree, about a metre and a half from where the rock stood. A bit of luck after hard work. The bark of this tree was just this enough for her to place hands around it. Her back faced the tree. First she tried to reach it by freeing her right leg and right hand and ascertain her range. Even with her body fully stretching, it eluded her grasp by a foot. Then came a stunt that had my eyes bulging out and my jaw dropping. Keep in mind that her foot was atleast 11 feet from the ground, and rock climbing shoes are not made for hard landings. They are utterly tight, curve your foot in the shape of an arch to have the toe protrude out. If you are lucky then the landing would just sprain your foot, but there are better chances that you would be left with broken toes.
For most people the act I am going to describe might not seem much of a feat, but these 'most' have seen far too many kung-fu movies to find it banal in real life.
So hold your breath. This act is better if imagined in slow motion (and present tense). DES has brought her limbs back to the rock now, her legs are bent to give her enough thrust to jump away from the rock. My mind is weighing the possibilty about catching her mid-air (seems a joke now). She gives herself a push, while still air-borne, she rotates her body 180 degree, such that she faces the bark now. First her hands wrap around the bark, as if choking her worst enemy. Then her legs. Secured and steady. From down below it looked like a fox crossing a wide ravine.
Coming down the tree was not much of a challenge, and she seemed to actually relish it. All this drama had me panting for breath, she in comparison was unnaturally composed.
'Holy fuck!! How did you do that??' I asked, unable to conceal my excitement. She shrugged, gave me a nonchalant smile, and answered my question with one of her own.
"It was tricky, wasn't it?? I wasn't sure if I could have held on during the last 2-3 metres, and I was too scared to fall down. After that I guess a few hormones kicked on." She said, while pressing her forearms, and taking a cognizance of her body.
The only casuality was that the tip of her left index finger got punctured by a sharp rock. Blood was getting mixed with the chalk before droplets fell on ground. She instinctively sucked on to the finger, her spit cleaning off both blood and the chalk. "Tastes like childhood", she said. Must be one hell of a childhood, I thought. Calm as she seemed on the rocks, the ordeal left her limbs a bit shaky. Last one had pushed her over the edge. I guess that was what she was hoping to achieve. She drank her share of water, offered me her climbing shoes (my feet are girlie sized) in case I wanted to carry on. I did for a while before blisters cut all of my fingers (downside of climbing without technique). Tired or not, she was still slugging out with the rocks when I had left.
Hej och adjo.
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| DES - The queen of rocks. Photo : Dhauj |
Side-note: Reconnaissance was the word I wanted to use in a couple of places, not because it added some special meaning, but just because it's an awesome word and should be used more often. I was stuck, unable to remember it for one whole day, till I got a good cue from J about searching for spy satellites. I did, and voila! it was there, smugly waiting for me in the third line. Few things (good shit and good jerk off being one of those) make your day, as salvaging a word buried deep down in your memory does. So here's an axiom, I am about to introduce, pass it down your generations : "When unable to recall Reconnaissance, wiki search for Spy Satellites."
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