Back to Business
Hello again! Connection problems here are finally sorted out, so we can get back to business. It was too nice a day yesterday to stay inside anyway. I went with some kea friends to the Basin in Ku-ring-gai where we went swimming and visited a local wallaby, who had a little baby joey in her pouch.
It is very easy to grow impatient in a city. Some things just cannot happen unless conditions are exactly right. Take Fyfe Pass, for example. In Fyfe's day the ice was much thicker than it is now. These days it isn't exactly what one would call a pass, but one can still cross, given the right conditions: a fine day in late spring after the cirque has avalanched out and left a high pile of debris almost to the top of the bluff at the base of the gut. It's simple climbing from there really, with only one flaky abseil across the waterfall. A lot of things are like that. Not so hard when you look at them the right way.
It is very easy to grow impatient in a city. Some things just cannot happen unless conditions are exactly right. Take Fyfe Pass, for example. In Fyfe's day the ice was much thicker than it is now. These days it isn't exactly what one would call a pass, but one can still cross, given the right conditions: a fine day in late spring after the cirque has avalanched out and left a high pile of debris almost to the top of the bluff at the base of the gut. It's simple climbing from there really, with only one flaky abseil across the waterfall. A lot of things are like that. Not so hard when you look at them the right way.
posted by Kea | 10:53 PM
3 Comments:
Your stories about climbing are very interesting. After too much time in a city one gets impatient for open space and solitude. The only trouble is, there is no one around to document what you've done. Far more important to achieve a personal best.
If one sets out to have all one's exploits recorded and rewarded, it must be all too easy to fall into the trap of following the record makers. We try hard just to enjoy life.
By the way, no one really doubts the fact of my Fyfe escapade, because there are hut logbooks in places along the long approach and leaving routes; in particular on either side of the main divide. Well, nobody has actually read those. But they seem to believe it anyway. Maybe it was my accurate description of the kea tribe in the upper Landsborough.
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