600#gorilla wrote:I remember when I was with the guys down at Joe's... seems a thousand centuries ago.
We went up in to the bolders to climb and we left the bolders after we had climbed all the easy problems,
and this old man came running after us and he was crying.
He couldn't see.
We went back there, and they had come and hacked off every chalked hold.
There they were in a pile. A pile of perfect jug holds.
And I remember... I... I... I cried, I wept like some grandmother.
I wanted to tear my teeth out; I didn't know what I wanted to do! And I want to remember it.
I never want to forget it... I never want to forget. And then I realized... like I was shot...
like I was shot with a diamond... a diamond bullet right through my forehead.
And I thought, my God... the genius of that! The genius! The will to do that!
Perfect, genuine, complete, crystalline, pure.
And then I realized they were stronger than we,
because they could climb those bolders without the jugs!
these were not monsters, these were men... trained climbers.
These men who climbed with their hearts, who had families, who had children, who were filled with love...
but they had the strength... the strength... to do that.
You know, to climb that shit.
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