Climb

A poem of ascent

Well I wrote this quite a while ago, for my own fun, as a contemplation of why I love to climb. I’ve never shared it with anyone.

The British mountaineer, George Mallory, was asked why he wanted to climb Qomolungma¹. His rather famous reply was “Because it is there.”

If anyone were to ask me why I climb (much less difficult) things, my answer would be: “Because I am here.”

Both answers are glib. The poem below is less so, but also a whole lot harder to read.

On the assumption that having read this far you may be tempted to try an ascent of the poem, I need to warn you that it really is a literal ascent.

Like climbing any peak, you don’t start at the top - you go to the bottom and work your way upwards from there.

So - if you are feeling foolish by all means pull on your metaphorical climbing boots then scroll/abseil/rappel down the page until you reach the base of the poem, which is the line:

“Standing here - looking up -”

then climb back up the page ascending the poem line by line, handhold by handhold, as you go, until you reach the summit.

See you again afterwards.

Climb when ready.

Good luck.

                        you
                        ......
                sky begins and
               where space ends
             you have not been before
        of almost living stone to a place
      until you pull yourself over that last lip
    taking something old to make it new 
   making you more real; 
   making you bleed with a pain you do not feel,
   the things you do not need,
   becomes a knife, slicing away 
  Now the sharp edge of  the cliff
      reimburse the far too heavy cost of life.
       find the things you never knew were lost;
    Now you can climb,
        cannot comprehend.
      rising to a summit you
      and its cool, objective certainty -
      swallowed by the hungry mountain
   all are left behind,
As you ascend these
       lonely children.
      the cares of women, men,
      taking you far above
  Now the height is your friend
        the mad imbalance of your life.
       leave behind
    Now you can breathe,
            so easily become.
     of the not being you could
         dread emptiness
      no longer the hollow
      half inflated lungs;
         twisted, wrung from
       no longer the breath
       is no longer death -
       For the now the space
      cool kiss on your forehead.
          blessing you with its 
        comforting, caressing, 
       winds about your face like a sheet,
       and the wind
         beneath your feet,
            begins to fall
           as you climb, the wall
          far worse than being here where,
       than the climbing -
           is somehow worse 
           of first seeing 
       shock
              It’s as if the 
            accept you are alone.
           find a rhythm -
             start,
             stone and
           touch. hold the 
             is
          What you have to do 
          hand.
          let alone your
          grip,
          your eye can
          nothing 
            and
             orange rock
                and 
                space
		All you can see is 
	     it overwhelms you.
          from your body;
     your breath 
    cuts
  so far above
  of the cliff 
  the sharp edge

Standing here - looking up -

START HERE - read upwards.

Welcome back. See? It was a doddle…. Almost a tourist route.

A note on the photos: I have lots of photos of cliffs and mountains but very few photos of me actually climbing. The reason - back when I had climbing partners (a long while ago) most of them didn’t bother with a camera. I did occasionally - but in those way pre-GoPro times you couldn’t really photograph yourself when you were busy climbing. The photos I did take are mostly transparencies now mouldering away in a box somewhere. Since I ran out of climbing partners I have just climbed solo. So the final three grainy photos of someone climbing are of me, but they were taken by a non-climbing friend long ago, in Central Australia. The first two and much clearer opening photos are mine - but of a different peak that I climbed 3 years ago.

1. Mallory was actually asked why he wanted to climb Mt Everest but I prefer the original names for the mountain: Qomolungma (Holy Mother) - the Tibetan name, and Sagarmatha (Goddess of the Sky) - the Nepalese name. I have used Qomolungma here because Mallory was attempting to climb the mountain from the Tibetan side. Spoiler alert - on his 3rd visit to the mountain Mallory and his climbing partner, Sandy Irvine, fell and died on their summit attempt on 8 June 1924. There is an extremely slim chance that they actually fell on descent after reaching the summit, but it seems unlikely. Mallory’s frozen body was found high on the mountain in 1999. Sandy Irvine’s foot, (still in a boot and a sock with his name tag) was found in a glacier at the base of the mountain just last year.

Times change. 55 year old Kami Rita Sherpa (a Nepalese legend) currently holds the record for the most number of ascents of Sagarmatha: He made his 31st summit on 27 May this year. Pasang Dawa Sherpa is close behind with 29.