no place like home

I wasn't supposed to be climbing at all this week. The grand plan was to abstain all week, let the skin grow back, really finish healing the bad finger and start afresh on monday. But... Because I didn't really climb on sunday, and because of the liberal applications of uncle hydral, my skin felt dynamite and I had a twitchy crimping finger. Re the finjury; when I first pulled on Pura Vida, I felt my bad finger aggravate (or so I thought), but then had no pain from it the rest of the week, even when I went back on PV and climbed through the bit that I thought had done it. And it feels better now. I wonder if I had scar tissue which needed to be broken off or something? whatever, it felt good last night.

So from not climbing at all to two sessions in one night. I had Ned in one ear and Folog in the other. Folog had the advantage - he was going out. The other wouldn't have gotten consideration usually (inside on a nice day, and not a training day either), but had Keith as an attraction, and as he is shortly leaving for good so I wanted to see him. And of course, young Ned Vegas. I havent had the pleasure for ages, so I did both. I went out to meet Folog at Rubbercon, and then finished up in the works with two walking anatomy lessons.

Rubbercon was warm (15degrees), but there was a bit of air about and it didnt feel too bad. I have no doubt that if you had wanted to do something, it could've been done - but that you would have had to try. It now feels like routes season temperatures. Do a bit, chat to Dan Cheatham and Ricardo and head up the road. I feel warmed up and ready to try. Jericho Road - tick. Cherokee lane is wet - X, The Pinch - tick. Pinch sit - tick (not done this one before). James wants to do the Hulk. I want to do it again. First go i hit the sloper - conditions are pretty good, my skin is mint and I know I can do it. James makes progress, I manage a repeat. Next up I manage a new problem for me which is called pink indians. Have a go on Sean's, do all the hard bit and fall off the top. Finish my first session by lapping to the end of Moffatrocity but not having the required resolve to finish it. Hot foot it back to the climbing wall.

I enquire as I arrive as to the wherabouts of my friends, but this was unnecessary. As I survey the punters, none of them look the part, climbing woodenly and covered with a layer of puppy fat. Out of the corner of my eye, at the other end of the room and on the steepest bit of wall I can see two bristling beefcakes, muscles rippling as they chalk their hands and swing through the roof on jugs.... Whoa there! JUGS? I've arrived at the end of some crazy volume comp training scene, the boys are yomping around the comp wall in preparation for some yogurt munching comp in Holland in a few weeks. Keith's vascular structure is amazing. He has a penis sized vein in his forearm (i.e not the size of a vein in your penis, rather the todger itself)(Penis Arms Bradbury). This man's title of 'The ShireHorse' is well deserved. I stay, chat and dick around for half an hour before going home to cook the tea.

It feels good to be back in the Peak again. I have always loved the park, it feels like home. I have had many good memories and happy times within its boundaries over the years and it will always have a very special place in my heart. Whether its Raven Tor or Stanage (I was going to write Rubicon for a laugh), what you are doing doesnt matter, if it makes you happy keep doing it. Keith says theres no scene like there was, but what he really means is that there's no board, which is true (we might be back in this winter...) and perhaps it is true theres a less cohesive training scene, but all thats done is move the pools of people about a bit and thats no bad thing. So, is a shame Keith is to leave, but is good to have somewhere to go stay in Europe.