May 26, 2011. DeParkuys Camp, Rocklands, South Africa
Sitting on the concrete edge of an unfinished structure in the middle of the bush camp,
the sun's rays rose over the eastern, rocky hillside about an hour ago to greet my chilled, down-clad body. Closing my eyes and listening to the delicate birdsong, the beautiful dance of nature, play out for my silenced ears. The quiet and calmness of this place is stunning. The complete peace, utterly unsoiled, constantly awaits if one can take the time to stop, to put down the mental mechanizations and gymnastics, and simply listen. It does not need to be sought out; rather, its pervasiveness surmounts the small echoes of noise. Sitting here in the sun, assessing the damage to my body from yesterday's climbing session; a stiff neck, also the result of my tent's cramped interior, two ripped knuckles, and a hole through the armpit of two shirts, the result of falling from an 18foot highball bouldering problem, nearly missing the pads, and almost being impaled on a sharp, 2 inch thick tree branch which almost sent me straight to the emergency room of the Clanwilliam Regional Hospital, not a relished thought by a long-shot. The perils of a perilous sport; I did manage to climb two beautiful lines that called to me in their beauty, their sculpted holds requiring both balance and strength, a true test of both the physical and mental barriers. A gorgeous day spent in the vast boulderfields of the Rocklands, a magnificent landscape whose beauty ranks quite high in my personal story; the light and shadows writing beautiful scripts at each moment on the streaked black and orange boulders and cliff bands; a remarkable area to be cherished and remembered. And today, more of the same, a solo pilgrimage to hunt out beautiful climbing lines, the calm, the stillness when you stop walking on the dusty trail, quiet the mind, and just listen.
