Well I got this text from Perry, like it’s a surprise! I mean what was I thinking... Send Perry text stating the weather looks okay tomorrow... hoping he will say something like, “he's given up climbing” or that “Sotra drifted off or sank”... anything, but no he replies enthusiastically and it begins again... I wake up on Friday and the first thing I think of is my head hurts. Beer and decorating don't seem to mix well together, and I feel like calling our mini adventure off right there and then, but the rat is addict and so needs a fix. Again... So I go over to Perry's at 1pm and we drive to Sotra to this new crag called Veatåa, and route called Sveitsereggen, some Norsk -5. After some previous frolics on the rock I have come to the conclusion Norsk climbing guides are just random words, and pictures with these random numbers associated with them. This fills me with fear. So we head out and get wet feet, and find the route and it looks good, and that's enough. Perry seems very interested in looking at the guide, and I know I should but the fear is too much and the guide isn't much help, a therapist would be better help right now. Probable just advice me to look at the guidebook, or probable in a round about sort of way help me realise that I really should look at the guide book... And so it begins again... I start up, and find it awkward, and the beer and paint fumes increase till I can go no further and slap in some belay, halfway through my pitch. It’s just not my day. Perry comes up and thankfully says all the right things like, poor gear and awkward moves. He leads on and after sometime, I relax, and watch a master at work, and try desperately to ignore the looks of concern Perry gives down to me from time to time. His pitch, the crux of the route, involves this awkward slot thing, which involves quite a lot of commitment, and trust, and flexibility, but mainly trust in smears, friction and trying not to think about all this while trying to place you feet where your hand was just smeared. It kind of works, it kind of always does, and it best not to think too much about this sort of thing. EVER! The therapist agrees.... well kind of. After this Perry leads on, he is well trained, and starts up the last pitch, a thin slab, with very poor gear. He makes light work of it, even the diagonal rock over above a dodge cam placed in a flaring crack. The rope goes out, and you try to feel the feelings of the other person through this lifeline. It runs smoothly out, this is good, easy ground, but them it stops, for what seems a long time, and then starts, more jagged, with stops and starts.... I get worried.... the fear builds.... It seems an eon... I hear nothing.... the rope goes tight... it feels like winter climbing, just trust Perry, he got that belay in... And so I climb, the slab is thin, and the rock over high step is okay, but with poor gear and the potential for a ledge fall it has this edge, which all slab climbing has. Round the corner I see the problem, and exposed sharp vertical edge, with stacks of gear in it. The climbing is solid, technical, fun, and I forget about the fear. Failure is not an option, and so everything is passed to the back of the brain. Perry's rope work is impeccable, but a fall from here with rope stretch would see me hit the ledge... but I only think of this while I type not then. Right then I am in the zone... and make the moves, twisting my body to maximise the holds... And reach a jubilant and very talkative Perry on the ledge... The sun goes, mist roles in, it becomes cold, we walk away, and head to another climb but time is not what it was and we both made promises to girlfriends we want to keep.
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