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Chockstone Forum - General Discussion

General Climbing Discussion

 Page 5 of 7. Messages 1 to 20 | 21 to 40 | 41 to 60 | 61 to 80 | 81 to 100 | 101 to 120 | 121 to 133
Author
A short story

PN
18/06/2005
1:59:27 PM
Our swashbuckling hero had been stuck in Arabia, chasing locals from one end of the desert to the other. It had been six years since he had spoken English, even longer since he had tied into a rope and done battle with that, the most trying adversary - the mountain environment.

He sat down at the desk, wiped dust off the PC screen and logged on. Amazingly, the password still worked after all these years.....He took a long swig from a Fosters. He winced with the familiar taste of Australia's worst export, distained by true Australians in favour of a VB or a Carlton. Fosters had been designed for the American market, which favoured lighter, watered-down versions of the full flavoured lagers that were enjoyed back home. Some things never change, he chuckled, and crunched the tin can with his left fist before throwing it into the waste-paper bin on the other side of the room.

The pile of climbing gear - ice axes, snowstakes, crampons, ropes and rock boots - lay on the ground in the corner of the office, under an old surfboard, where he had left it so many years ago. He picked up the ice axe and made a few air swings, recalling the satisfaction of a solid placement in the ice - you could hang your whole body weight off the single tip of the axe if you placed it properly.

He cracked open another Fosters and took a look out the window through the blinds. The afternoon had grown long, the sun was sitting low in the sky and the wind had picked up over the ocean. A lone yacht plowed through the breaks a few hundred metres offshore, keeling heavily to starboard as gusts carried its main sail. Seagulls milled around on the boardwalk in anticipation of the foodscraps that would invariably come their way from the many seaside bars and grills.

He eased back into the chair and took another sip of the bitter tasting beer, going down much better now after the initial shock, and logged on to Chockstone.

The beer was quickly slammed down...."Wha? Damn you Hexy!!!!"

There would be a lot of work to do......

It had been years since he had last checked email. When a stray bullet had taken out the sat phone there had been no option to get online in the desert. As a result the email inbox was full of unread messages. The most disturbing was an email from Michael, an old mate in Australia.

>"P, I need your help, Hex has taken over Chockstone. He's now reached 100,000 posts, most of them to himself, only a few of them climbing related. As you know, we'd been trying to set up Chockstone based on Neilo's original premise - an informative and friendly site for people to browse through, catch up on the latest climbing news, buy gear and pick up technical tips from more experienced climbers. All this was going great guns until Havashatwithexy came into force. It's taken over Chockstone, we don't know what to do. Please help! I've gotta go now!! Nothings safe any more...."

He leaned back in his chair, now onto the third beer, and took a deep breath. He shuddered to think of the situation back in Victoria, Australia. He opened the drawer of the desk and looked down at the standard issue Browning 9mm, waiting patiently in it's holster. Eager for service once more - her majesty's secret service. The Browning was often called the disco gun as it was easily concealed and with silencer a shot would be barely audible in a noisy bar or disco. It had come into vogue during the so-called cold war - when every man and his dog was walking around Washington thinking he was James Bond replete with pistol, listening device and coder.

He took another long swig from the beer and thought to himself - shite, there isn't much time.....

Edited by Admin to remove an offensive term. 29/6/05

PN
18/06/2005
6:35:54 PM
tbc

Tav
24/06/2005
5:31:33 PM
The wind strokes my hair, trying to calm me, and two wedged tailed eagles circles overhead making sure I don't do anything 'irrational'. It would seem after ten years, the land still remembers me. Ten years. It was ten years ago that I last sat here. I needed those air borne guards then, standing on top of a 6 pitch sheer cliff, I wasn't as mindful of the edge then. Tears stream down my face as I stare rigidly at it for who knows how long, it gives new meaning to the term 'the line between life and death'. This is where he fell out of grace, out of life and into the sky.

We decided to meet at the peak to photograph the sun rising over the other peaks and then have breakfast there. There wasn't any danger in the scheme really; it was an easy hike up the walking path to the top and plenty of space to sit. Excited, I ran most of the way with the food, saying I'd wait for him at the top. It didn't occur to me he'd walk around to the cliff's edge and solo the last pitch or so to surprise me, he knew it was an easy climb for him after all and the pre-dawn light gave good view of the holds.

I stare at the edge and everything else blurs into insignificance. It's now just me, the edge and beyond; like a timeline outlining the stages of life, death and beyond for anyone near enough to see. But no one else is here and the wind and eagles have conquered both worlds.

I sat there enjoying the feeling of new breaths after my lungs had recovered from exercise and wait. I heard sound on the cliff face but disregarded it as unimportant and strained to hear foot steps up the path behind me. My peace was shattered when the sun began to crown and his hand topped the ridge. I sat and watched as the two rose together. I beamed at the realisation that I am the only one to witness the impossible; two suns rising on the face of Earth, my sun and the world's sun. But it is unnatural for Earth to have two suns, and to re-establish the balance, fate removed the lesser. I watched as a look of startled knowing crossed the surface of my sun and see too late the rock crumbling beneath his hands. As he slips below his horizon I throw myself towards the edge and onto my stomach to cath him, but find mothing to grasp. Only a darkly knowing and accepting face greets my eyes from the depths of fate.

Tav
24/06/2005
5:31:58 PM
tbc in later tonight

IdratherbeclimbingM9
24/06/2005
5:40:36 PM
Awesome thought process there Tav.

PN
24/06/2005
7:21:40 PM
Excellent! hope to see more

Tav
24/06/2005
9:21:38 PM
The wind strokes my hair, trying to calm me, and two wedged tailed eagles circles overhead making sure I don't do anything 'irrational'. It would seem after ten years, the land still remembers me. Ten years. It was ten years ago that I last sat here. I needed those air borne guards then, standing on top of a 6 pitch sheer cliff, I wasn't as mindful of the edge then. Tears stream down my face as I stare rigidly at it for who knows how long, it gives new meaning to the term 'the line between life and death'. This is where he fell out of grace, out of life and into the sky.

We decided to meet at the peak to photograph the sun rising over the other peaks and then have breakfast there. There wasn't any danger in the scheme really; it was an easy hike up the walking path to the top and plenty of space to sit. Excited, I ran most of the way with the food, saying I'd wait for him at the top. It didn't occur to me he'd walk around to the cliff's edge and solo the last pitch or so to surprise me, he knew it was an easy climb for him after all and the pre-dawn light gave good view of the holds.

I stare at the edge and everything else blurs into insignificance. It's now just me, the edge and beyond; like a timeline outlining the stages of life, death and beyond for anyone near enough to see. But no one else is here and the wind and eagles have conquered both worlds.

I sat there enjoying the feeling of new breaths after my lungs had recovered from exercise and wait. I heard sound on the cliff face but disregarded it as unimportant and strained to hear foot steps up the path behind me. My peace was shattered when the sun began to crown and his hand topped the ridge. I sat and watched as the two rose together. I beamed at the realisation that I am the only one to witness the impossible; two suns rising on the face of Earth, my sun and the world's sun. But it is unnatural for Earth to have two suns, and to re-establish the balance, fate removed the lesser. I watched as a look of startled knowing crossed the surface of my sun and see too late the rock crumbling beneath his hands. As he slips below his horizon I throw myself towards the edge and onto my stomach to cath him, but find mothing to grasp. Only a darkly knowing and accepting face greets my eyes from the depths of fate.

The silence. The silence I remember was unnatural too. I remember how I felt it, and how insulting it was. To lose that sun, the ground should have quaked and shattered, spewing forth the vibrations of a thousand drums. The winds should have converged and screamed the mass requiem of nature and the birds should have howled like their carnivorous brothers. Instead, the greater sun streaked the waking sky with triumphant rays and a wind trickled past me, softly laughing in my ear. The world didn't care because it still had its sun. But my body, soul and life, however, felt the loss and quaked, shattered and screamed its own requiem to fill the silence.

Tav
24/06/2005
9:21:57 PM
"Excuse me, but I think you're a bit too close to that edge." the intrusion of sound shatters the print of the past I was building before me and drags me back to the present. The world has changed whil I remembered, and I realise I'm standing on the crumbling adge. The wind blows towards me encouraging me to move away from away while the eagles fly in more chaotic flight patterns overhead. I turn my face the intruder.
"And who asked you anyway? It sure as hell wasn't me" I say, more embarrassed than angry.
"Well, it was actually the voices in my head. They ask some pretty good questions sometimes, and even give good answers evey so often too. And at the moment, they think there are safer ways to look down there."
"What makes you think I'd want to find a safer way?" I retort realising I'm actually considering taking that next step.
"Absolutely nothing actually, ok, since it seems you'd rather me be blunt, I will accomodate. I find it easier to expect people would chose a different option if they were offered it. If you want to go through with it, think about this first. You're going to land near one of the most walked paths around here so a couple of hundred hikers and climbers are going to see your body or the remains of it for the next couple of days. I haven't seen what that looks like, but I can imagine, and I can imagine the effect it would have on not only the children who walk by it, but the adults as well.
"I want to help you in any way I can, so I won't be leaving until you either jump or come back, so I'll see you go and I'd rather be saved seeing that if I can. You're young, and have enough life in you to fill at least five decades with things you haven't done yet. Your family and friends will need to identify your body and then deal with the knowledge that you jumped. Some may blame themselves for it for the rest of their life."
Thinking of my family and friends going through what I went through, and this man seeing what I saw, I realise I would never purposefully put anyonw through that pain. If I had though he chose to die ten years ago, I wouldn't have been alive to see this day. I turn to fully face the man and move away from the adge with a new flood of tears running down my face.
Later, we reach the bottom of the track to look up at where I had been standing.
"I'm glad you didn't do it Tavaré, Ryan loves you more than he loved the life he led." It sounds right hearing his name, so I try it in my head, "Ryan.
"But I don't know this man! Do I? How does he know not only Ryan's name, but mine? And that he was my fiance for that matter?"
"We've all missed seeing you around the traps and wish we could have been there to support you after Ryan died. I haven't seen you since the day after, and neither of us were ourselves that day." Beau. That is this man's name, and I remember him.
I reply, "climbing was as much a part of Ryan as his name was. I haven't said his name for ten years let alone climb. But it feels right hearing and saying his name, maybe it'll feel the same climbing."
"I reckon it will, as much as climbing's a huge part of Ryan, it's just as much a huge part of you Tav, and HE's a huge part of you too. You'd be surprised the amount of people who think of him among the things they associate with you."
"Ok, I'll start climbing again. I'll have to buy new shoes and stuff though, I threw my old ones out along with everything else."
"You threw them out, but I saw you do it and took them to look after for you. I bring them every time I come here in case you turn up or just to remember you both."
"Ok then, do you want to climb tomorrow?"
"I'd love to! But I don't like we'll be alone, I'm guessing there's going to be a fair group of people who want to spen as much time catching up with you as they possibly can. So expect to find your tyres let down if you try to leave before staying a minimum of a week."
I laugh. I partly expect it to feel 'right' as well, but it's still surprising when it does. "We'll see. I can ring work and try to coax a couple more weeks out of them."
"Awesome. Tav, I've really missed you. I've felt like I lost both of you that day." For the first time Beau looked haggar and all I could think about was making that look go and never come back again.
"You didn't lose Ryan, I can tell you know that. You lost me for a while, but you've found me now, and I'm never letting myself be lost again." I look back at the sky above the peak to see the eagles fly figher and onto new hunting fields. For the first time I realise why the land remembers me; home never forgets you.

In remembrance of Ryan Evans, and in celebration of the finding of Tavare Stevenson

Tav
24/06/2005
9:26:43 PM
Have a good one people, and stay safe. You might not hear from me for a while, I'm gong to Cairns for three weeks from tomorrow arvo.

IdratherbeclimbingM9
19/07/2005
8:54:05 PM
Eloquent PN.
.. in a sort of Dr Seuss (sp?) way.
I like its simplicity.

========================
Post edit:
Welcome to the short stories thread Megan. Your interesting read (below) sounds uncomfortably like a real life experience you have had recently?
It certainly had the effect of making me feel queasy.

Megan
26/07/2005
2:36:10 AM
You realise what a fragile grip you have on your climbing lead head, when you start up the third pitch of a climb, stick your head out around a corner, and are confronted with a large shiny, sticky pool of congealing blood. It's bright red still, with flies crawling around it. It's also exactly where you need to go. You're 40 metres up the climb already - you knew there was blood somewhere up here, and you knew the guy was fine - he just nicked his ankle apparently, you'd heard him yelling down to his belayer about it. You just weren't expecting quite so much of the stuff.

He and his partner kept climbing - oh, they certainly did, as there is blood sprayed all over the rest of the pitch. Gingerly following a trail of blood, and trying not to get too queasy as you look down at the rope below you, and the swathes of blood zoom into focus, multiplying. Suddenly everything seems a lot harder. It seems like you're looking into the future every time you look down, and the pool of blood lying there is yours, waiting for you to fall and create it. Dizziness overtakes you as the queasiness from all the blood goes to your head. You clasp the rock in front of you - it's still cool from the morning. Your helmet rests against the rock, as you try and calm down, and return to the task at hand.

The climb is supposed to be a 5.5 ... well that's about a 10 in Australia. Even taking into account the Seneca sandbagging, the moves you are looking at doing seem a lot harder... more like 16? You weren't really expecting this; your hands are sweating, and you have no chalk. You look down and across to work out where the traverse is supposed to go, there should be an easier way - oh, there's the blood again. Getting it together for a minute, letting your belayer know to watch you, you haul yourself through a few more moves, get some more pro in, backed up with one of the ubiquitous dodgy pitons. The traverse here doesn't look any better. And look, more blood. The sun has moved over, and you lie there, hugging the rock, and wondering what the hell you're doing there.

A few hours later you're standing in the river at the bottom of the crag. You got off the climb ok. Everyone is fine. It wasn't one of the days you climb for, but right now the river is cool, and you can stand here watching the ripples in the water, and nothing else matters.

PN
26/07/2005
10:01:52 AM
On 26/07/2005 Megan wrote:
>and are confronted with....

This surprised me, wasn't expecting it at all. Excellent, cheers for the write-up

IdratherbeclimbingM9
21/09/2005
7:49:12 AM
20/09/2005 5:26:12 PM ti wrote; (on thread 'Aid Climbing Routes') ...

>Um, I'm not sure where the 'short stories thread' is, so I'll post it here until someone can give me directions. >This is the beginning (chapter one maybe?) of the story that M8 has provoked me to write.
>I've only has a couple of hours to brainstorm and write this - in amongst all this other homework that I've been doing, so all excuses will be used to apologise emphatically for a boring read.

>DREAMING OZY

>This story is fictitious, all characters (excluding myself) and events are dreamt up, hence the title.

>It was my first climbing trip to Mount Buffalo, the previously planned trip had been aborted en route due to an escalating argument in the car. >A sharp U-turn on the Hume highway denoted that Mount Buffalo was no longer our destination, and for the next two hours I sat silently in the passenger seat as we headed back to Melbourne. >The two hour ride home was the most arduous I had experienced. >It was harder than the usual four hours drive to Mount Arapiles. >I had only started climbing a few months earlier, and I rationed that I wasn’t missing out on much, and that I would not have understood the significance of where I was going and the experiences that would come from climbing such pristine rock. >During the whole trip home I refused to look disappointed, and in fact, I’m sure I feigned happiness - my stubborn nature and pride make me so predictable in these instances.

>Two months later we were driving back to Mount Buffalo, this time I was more conscientious about the choice of topics that we talked about. >Tentatively I said, ‘Isn’t the weather just so beautiful!’ and immediately groaned to myself and wondered whether that would be the best conversation we would have tonight. >Regardless, my conscientiousness was rewarded and we both woke up to an amazing view of the hills surrounding Mount Buffalo. >As we were preparing breakfast, Huckleberry Fin excitedly discussed the plan of action for the day, listing Maharajah and Peroxide Blonde as two adventures we should undertake. >Before we headed off, Huckleberry Fin pointed out Ozymandias and explained that that was an aid route that he was hoping to complete some day.

>Prior to that moment I was rather confused about climbing. >I enjoyed many aspects that surrounded climbing, like camping, exploring new destinations and experiencing views of the world that others who were not climbers would never have the opportunity to experience. >Yet I still needed to come to terms with my physical inaptitude for climbing, and more importantly, my mental capacity was unprepared for handling the concepts, ideas and the questions that climbing provoked in me. >Prior to seeing Ozy I dismissed the importance and impact of climbing to my life and with the proverbial broom I swept all issues under the carpet.

>Many people know a dusty room makes people sneeze, it’s a natural reaction that the body invokes to expel foreign bodies. >Here I was, at Mount Buffalo, looking at Ozymandias and sneezing. >Although at the time this climb was beyond my abilities, it was not beyond my imagination – Ozymandias was a physical manifestation of the questions that climbing raised and that I needed to answer. >I had never seen anything like it before and never realised the extent of where climbing could mentally, physically, and spiritually take me.

>A little less than two years latter, I’ve been fortunate enough to continue experiencing the wonders of climbing. >The beautiful surrounds of Mount Buffalo and that climb remain in my thoughts, hopes and dreams. >This summer, I hope to go and challenge myself in a way that I’ve never done before.


IdratherbeclimbingM9
21/09/2005
7:53:44 AM
Far from being a boring read it was very enjoyable, and you have intigued me quite a bit with your 'short story' ti.
It stirs some distant emotions that I had somewhat forgotten, and I look forward to seeing how things continue to develop over time.
It is good to see things afresh through new eyes.
Thanks for posting it (& assumed liberty to copy it to here), on/from the other thread.

IdratherbeclimbingM9
21/09/2005
2:06:02 PM
On 21/09/2005 ti wrote:
>Some really wild imaginations out there! >Is that what's required to get out of crazy climbing fixes, when you're half way up a climb and there's no way up and the only thing you've got left to help you treat is a sling and some duct tape wrapped around your water bottle?
LOL
Probably!
KP
21/09/2005
6:07:22 PM
i can't believe your romanticising about aid climbing Ti. Even HeX isn't that crazy! Perhaps its a good idea to lay off the books for a while ;.)

IdratherbeclimbingM9
22/09/2005
9:53:28 AM
On 21/09/2005 KP wrote:
>i can't believe your romanticising about aid climbing Ti. Even HeX isn't
>that crazy! Perhaps its a good idea to lay off the books for a while
>;.)

Hex-Troll is well versed* in the black art of aid, as this poem of his/hers testifies in several places ... ;
(*HehHehHeh)

On 30/01/2005 HEX wrote:
>-------------------------------
>A STRANGE TOUCH

>Dalai & Kent, they are my mates...
>they make me quake & shiver !
>When suspended from a dodgy RURP
>they inspire like Stones Green Ginger Wine in me liver ...
>
>I'm swingin' high
>I'm swingin' low
>I'm dancin' in me etts !
>That skyhooks flexin' on that flake,
>in rythm to me pirouettes !
>
>Now, Kieran's seen me from above
>and he starts trundlin' quartzite boulders
>" Take that, ya friggin' manky HEX ---
>I'm sicko'ya cauldron scoulders !!! "
>
>With broken bones and bleedin' nipples
>I bong-on past the over-hanging fist flare
>Oh shit !, why me ??,it can't be true !!
>Damey's pouncin' from his cyber-lair !
>
>" You've had ya fun, you've stolen the show,
>and ya crampin' me on the stage !
>Itz time you vanished and let me be,
>the Chockstone-creative-sage !! "
>
>He cutz my ropes,
>he pops me pins
>and lets me fall into the abyssssss ...
>" seeya Hexy ! --- you won't be missed ! ",
>yells Damo or is it Kris ...
>
>I see the ground rise up at me
>with speed thatz from Warp 9 !!!
>It feels sooooo GOOD !!!
>it wakes me up !
>I'm being massaged by Josh in the Pines ...
>
>------------------------

IdratherbeclimbingM9
25/09/2005
10:51:07 AM
Bouge on Bourge’s World thread 24/09/05 wrote;

>I stepped out from the Maserati sports car like a modern day Michael Knight/David Hasselhoff - only without the black leather. >I was greeted by admiring glances and envious looks from the throng of passer-bys and randoms gathered outside the Indoor Climbing Wall. >Bourge time.

>The music from the Alpine blasted out over the carpark

>"I think I saw your body before I saw your face.....
>Push up, your body, your body, next to mine..
>Gotta make that sexy boody mine
>And baby, baby shake that ass
>I love it when you feel like getting nasty...."

>This was my first appearance at a Bouldering Competition and I planned to make an impact. >I was not well known in that particular climbing community at the time but I soon would be. >I stopped to check my hair in the titanium tint rear windows - "looking good big boy" I told myself. >Just one problem, the mullet needed a bit of teasing. >It reminded me of a quote by Jason Gillespie, before he was dropped from the test squad: "The mullet is all business at the front, and party at the back". >I gave it a bit of a ruffle up so that it stood up at the back, a look popularised by David Beckham in 2004 – a classic retro style with punk - I had read it described so in a men’s magazine.

>In the reflection I could see the Cossey brothers arriving in their Bashed-up Kombi-van. >I chuckled to myself and gave them a wave, they waved back but I could see their disappointment that I had turned up to this competition on their turf. >I heard over the rumble of the engine of the old Volkswagen “Oh Sh## Bourge is here”.

>Before I entered the climbing gym I grabbed a few phone numbers of some girls waiting outside. >I might give them a call a bit later on if I was bored after the competition.

>The trophies were lined up on a table in the foyer of the climbing gym. >I picked up the largest trophy – open men’s. >I was concerned that the trophy was not large enough to fit my preferred my font. >The winner’s name, my name, should always be in “Bookman Old Style” Font and should be printed in full. >I made a note to remind the organisers before the trophies were engraved.

>I kicked back with a mineral water while the rest of the competitors filed in. >The Bouldering wall, compete with brand new acromats, awaited behind a cordon. >That's where I would do my golden work.

>I could see people admiring the mullety goodness that I was projecting, it made the $280 I had spent on the one-off styling product worthwhile............

**********************
Recognition for posterity. I am sure Damietta/o won't mind the cross posting to this thread.
;p

IdratherbeclimbingM9
26/10/2005
8:15:53 AM
X-link to another thread on Chockstone that contains many excellent short 'stories'.

here.
DJ Biggs
26/10/2005
1:28:52 PM
True story
Its a sunday night, about 11:30, the phone rings. "hello this is Conastable X is this Mr Biggs?"
"Um yes"
"And you're a key holder of Nightclub X"
'um yes"
"well we have a unit attending the scene right now are you able to attend? Sorry can I put you on hold"
What the hell? How did they get my number? Why did they call me and put me on hold, are the police playing crazy mind games? Why haven't they called the owner instead of just a parttime bartender.
"hello, stil there?
"Yep, have you called the owner can't quite see why you would need me at the moment?"
"Oh right do you have his number?"
So what happened, seeing windows half ajar an enterprising individual thought it would be a good idea to edge 20m or so around a small ledge going around the building from a walk way three stories up to the nightclubs windows, once having reached the windows and finding them locked tried to kick them open and in the process knocked himself off the ledge. He managed to grab a venetian blind on the way down which was handed back with a bit of blood on it.
In the end an abulance picked him up and I think he only broke a few bones.
Thats a definite nomination for a darwin award, just wish I new how the police got my mobile number.


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