Holy Mary Mother of Flying Tacos Dammit All To Hell
I typed a whole post and Chrome decided to crash…. lesson learned, save yo shit, kids.
Anyway, this past weekend was spent trying to not look like a complete oaf around the amazing and gravity-defying MegWan (MegTwo), Steve, and Eben in Cornwall.
We spent our time camping in Treen Farm, near the southwestern most point of the UK. Thanks to the generosity of my partners and their willingness to loan gear, it was a very comfortable time in a beautiful sea-side campsite.
Saturday morning we started the day with generous amounts of bacon, peanut butter, and coffee; basically a perfect morning. We headed out to Bosigran, where MegWan and I headed to Bosigran Ridge (aka Commando) and the boys went off to conquer the Suicide Wall. Our climb had us scramble up and absail down to the sea rocks, where the waves were lapping at our heals as we set up our first pitch. It was amazingly fun climbing up the 5+ pitch ridge, with only two parts that had me truly sketched out and questioning my sanity… which is kinda sad, since we were passed by two guys that were free soloing the entire thing, as it is completely soloable. I think if we were to go again, I would be comfortable soloing about half of it, but I am so much more comfortable knowing that there is a rope to save me.
Our Saturday ended with pan-fired burgers, generous amount of wine, and the most beautiful night I have had here yet. It was a quarter moon on a starry night and, with a bottle of wine in hand, we clambered down to the sea cliffs to gaze over the ocean and white breakers, all subtly aglow with moonlight. We moved to a small rock alcove where the moon had the most picturesque glitter I have ever seen, lighting a shimmering path from the horizon across the ocean to my eyes and heart. It truly is a tranquil place here, away from the bustle of the cities. Finally to cap the night off, the moon turned a deep red, a phenomenon that baffled my one-wine-bottle-deep mind but further relaxed my soul.
Sunday started off with yet more bacon, peanut butter, and coffee, then off to Land’s End, the most Southwestern part you can get! We climbed only two routes here, but I was okay with that since I was dodging wave blasts from the ocean swell, while trying to lead belay MegWan. After witnessing the destruction of Eben’s food by a wild gaggle of seagulls, we headed off to Roche, where an old stone chapel sits atop a beautiful crag. While Eben and Steve were tradding, I free solod wherever I wanted, just fucking around on nature’s playground and using the last of my hand strength. It was a perfect end to a perfect weekend.
We headed home while I drifted in and out of consciousness, wherein Eben and Steve had their fun filming the Meg’s sleeping. I showed them American country music, and we concluded the trip by singing along to the Team America soundtrack, so a great end to a great weekend!
Here’s a video after the first or second pitch on Commando:
Notes on the video:
Once again, I am a terrible narrator, so disregard my awkward grammar. Also, we didn’t end up free soloing it since we weren’t sure of the route, and it was pretty exposed.
Reflections after the trip: I am more connected to nature than I care to admit. Without realizing it, I’ve been feeling increasingly ‘down’ from sheer lack of contact with the outdoors. I can’t suffer concrete, brick, manicured trees and shrubs long before my mood starts to sour. Truly the most recharging thing is to sit alone (or with friends) in some quiet, wild area, where my thoughts can cease, my pulse can slow to the humm of the Earth, and I can change my being from one who reacts to the world around me, to one who experiences and blends with the Earth.
Amazing to read, glad you had a blast 😀