Climbing

When I was a boy I climbed trees, walked along fences and generally had a three-dimensional view of the world. I still enjoy scrambling, getting a few feet up walls and walking on heights, but I have never really tried climbing. Many of my most vivid childhood memories involve height, whether scrambling up ropes in the school gym, tree-houses or sitting on the edge of cliffs.

Several years ago, when the kids were small, they and Moonface bought me a taster course at the local climbing centre but the gift certificate languished lost and unloved in the back of a drawer for many years. Then a few months ago we found it and after a fair bit of prevarification the climbing centre agreed to honour the voucher. [It wasn't an easy process. They needed to see the piece of paper before they would agree that it was real]

And so last Wednesday evening I went for the first evening of the course. There were many preliminaries: instructions about safety, how to tie knots, how to ensure that ones harness was properly fastened. I really enjoyed the lesson. I'm no good at it, as I'm neither as limber nor as strong as I used to be and I weigh so much more than I once did - but it was fun. And it was exhausting. In spite of only having a few short scrambles up the beginners' walls in the converted church I really felt the effects. It was also scary, as although I was roped from above I was not truly confident in my partner's ability to brake my fall. The hand-and-footholds were not really big enough for mental security, but at least I reached the top on each climb.

I'm going again this evening, and I'm excited!

:o)