Well we got run off of Bear Creek Spire again. I knew it was a good possibility so I didn't even give myself the opportunity to imagine the reality of climbing.
Who knows, maybe I was a little relieved along with the disappointment. I kept hearing stories from people all week about bad accidents. So much that I was actively warding off a complex. Jim told me that when he climbed it years ago, he met a family on the ascent. Later heâd heard yelling and thought that they were celebrating the summit, but found out later that the father had dislodged a boulder that fell down and crushed his daughter. Just a few weeks back when we were hiking near the Palisades, someone fell in the notch and died. Then someone on the trail was telling us about an accident up on Matterhorn where a guyâs glissade went out of control. I've been a little weary lately, so I guess I was trying to get myself into a better mindset during the approach. As manageable as the climb is, it doesnât take much especially for a beginner.Â
We got all of the way up the talus fields almost to the base, when Tim had to turn around. It's not his fault; despite meds, the altitude was giving him a blinding headache and causing him to move at an unsustainable pace. We wouldn't make it up and back in time. He felt horrible about it - that he'd suggested we try again and that again we'd gone through all that work for nothing. I let him go down and I took a minute to sit on a rock, to try to absorb as much as I could of the moment.
At 10am, the light was hard. We'd been up at 4am and had only gone a short ways, albeit it already gaining 1600 feet. Tim was limping slowly back down into the talus field. I thought about myself perched there, a little nugget on the rocks. Why do I climb? Why am I here? Itâs a good place to contemplate those questions, burdened with a heavy pack and an unused rope. People put themselves through all sorts of hardship and danger for no reason. Why any of it? Here at least, thereâs is the undeniable feeling of sweet solitude and connectivity in the presence of those beautiful monoliths. Like I am a flea at the foot of these tenuously tamed beasts who lie quietly - glancing my way, curious, powerful, poised in the thick of the blue skies.