“This is our decision to live fast and die young.
We've got the vision, now let's have some fun.
Yeah it's overwhelming, but what else can we do?
Get jobs in offices and wake up for the morning commute?”
As we told our sponsors before the climb, we’ve gone rogue like Sarah Palin. We are off the grid…
As we wake up battered and depleted, everything points us towards bailing. Only we are too hard headed to concede defeat, not realizing in fact that we are just too stupid to know when to call it. We haven’t had water in a day or so…but who needs hydration anyway? Talking with this degree of cottonmouth makes me sound like I am speaking in tongues…Renan looks at me with confused, puffy eyes. Are we really going up? I am as confused as him…the answer is a surprisingly emphatic ‘yes!’
I dodge rocks as Renan leads through some choss. He short fixes, I jug, dry heave, swing leads, dry heave more, and suck down hard candies like an addict locked in the throes of withdrawals. I can’t wait for the snow, for the water, but we still have hours to go before we get there…if we get there. But the unspoken common ground is that we are down to go up…
As are artists, we are locked in a constant struggle between what we want to capture, and the energy our bodies can afford to give. It’s an instinct to reach for the camera, but one that nearly always falls second to the tasks at hand. Often times, I criticize myself for not shooting more…for not nailing the perfect image…but then again, I am fighting just to move. As athletes, we are succeeding, but as creative individuals, we are flailing…it hurts.
There are multiple points in any given day, during any given hour, or on any given pitch, where I want more than anything to call it in. I want to yell up at Renan that I’ve had it. I can’t swallow, can’t talk…can barely breath, and all of it makes me want to descend. I know he feels the same because I can see it in his face. But our mouths stay shut, moving upwards steadily as a cohesive unit. No, it doesn’t make any sense…but we’ve never pretended to understand. Life is reduced to a consecutive series of familiar motions. Our arms begin to cramp due to lack of fluid. The glands in our mouths stop producing saliva. We are dried up…
All the variables in the equation equal out towards descent. But math was never my strong point…apparently Renan suffers from the same learning disabilities.
c & r