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Topic Date User

Havachatwithhexy... 23-May-2005 At 1:13:29 PM HEX

Message

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Neilo :
>This post relates to a once prominant user who has requested that his account be >deleted and all his 200 or so posts removed.
>What do others think?
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FatBoy
29/12/2004
'...I sold out. I f---ing sold out. And I’m pissed.

I was going to live the life of the true climber, travelling from crag to crag in my piece-of-shit car, climbing every day – except for rain and designated rest days of course. No responsibilities, no cares, no rules, no liabilities, no worries. Just human friends, mechanical friends, chalk, a rope … the odd ‘biner or three. Who wants a mortgage ? Not me. Who wants to work 40 hours a week ? Not me. Who wants someone else telling them they can’t go climbing ? That’s right, nomme.

But it hasn’t happened like that and I’ll be stuffed if I can tell you exactly why.

It probably has something to do with me being too stupid to realise how much climbing meant to me at the time. Or it could be the fact that I’ll pretty much say or do anything when I’m chasing a girl. Sometimes these actions come back to bite you. Sometimes for instance, you might actually catch the aforementioned girl, get a full time job, stop climbing, get engaged, get a house, get a mortgage, get married, get another house, get another mortgage, have a kid, get another house, get another mortgage, all the while working 6 years in the same job you don’t really like to pay for the two mortgages you have. Just for example.

God I miss summers at Araps. Not even sure what it’s like now, I assume it’s roughly the same. Mornings started when the sun made your tent unbearably hot. And never before. Breakfast soon after then off to a cool gully since everything else was too oppressively hot. Did Syrinx on a 30 degree day early on in my travels and nearly died. I’m sure that’s why Dogger’s gully was so popular. A little bit of actual climbing, a lot of talking climbing. Geez I could talk it up. Back to camp, into my shitbox Celica and back to Nati for a milkshake – they’re not really any better than anywhere else but they seemed better at the time. Further on down to Toolondo if we were feeling frisky – it had water back then – afternoons back to try a couple more routes maybe, possibly some hacky sacking. Dinner was always that instant pasta that tastes like crap with those overly rich ready made sauces. Hey, I’m not reminiscing fondly about the quality of the food here. Heaps more talking – lots of it with strangers, and less about climbing as the night wore on. Increasingly pretentious conversation until the fire which always came in my direction convinced me that sleep was the option of choice.

Get up, someone’s moved out of a prime campsite. I upgrade. Inherit a few tarps to support my massively sunbleached tent. Between all the tarps and my tent, it may keep the rain out - if it ever rains - it may keep the sun off longer and keep me in bed another hour tomorrow morning. That’ll be fine. I never packed up my tent when I left to go back to the big smoke. Always left it for the next visit – couldn’t afford to let go of the prime spot. I figured I was in the 2nd or 3rd best spot in the gums, which crapped all over the pines. Never got that great spot that Dave seemed to live permanently in. Come to think of it though, I never brought it home, is my tent still there ?

And the thing is, there was there was never a conscious decision to stop climbing, it just happened – bit by tiny friggin’ bit. So let this be a warning to those of you who haven’t sold out yet. If you follow the path of least resistance – my path - you’ll end up like here: fat, bitter, not climbing, and wishing all the while that you did. It’s hard to be a climbing bum, but I admire those who do. Nobody asks whether you want to grow up. If they’d asked me, I would have told them to piss off and let me enjoy my instant pasta.

Merry Christmas everyone and save travels in the new year to all here...'
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& how IS fatboy thesedayz ...

I think this sort of stuff is highly theraputic ... for everyone ...
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