Ready

I went to U-tube the other day to freshen up on some of the knots I will need for the climb but haven't tied in awhile. At some point I realized I had wondered into videos on how to bait a dead-fall trap (a stick holding up a big flat rock that falls on whatever knibbles on the bait). My mind is elsewhere.

It reminds me of the time during college I became preoccupied with a theory I knew I would be tested on in a final exam the next day. I was standing in front of the stove in the kitchen of the boardinghouse I lived in when someone asked what I was doing. "I'm not sure," I answered honestly, "I started off making tacos, but now I'm just cooking meat."

I am packed, vaccinated, trained, equiped, visa-ed, and ticketed. I have said my "see you later"'s to most of the people in my life. I leave for Russia Sunday morning, but in many respects my mind has already boarded an earlier flight.

I am ready.

There are two Dentists I know named Dick and Mike. They just got back from doing this very climb. It was their second attempt, having been turned away just 800 feet below the summit on their first try last year. They are both world-class climbers who used wise judgement in not challenging bad weather up high. Though the weather was far from friendly this time, it was at least workable. They both summited.

I had lunch with Dick yesterday and bought his remaining Rubles. He is so alive from the experience you can feel the energy spinnng off of him. It's like one of those static electricity generators they had in science class where your hair stands on end if you place a hand on it. He shared many pointers, and eagerly answered the list of my questions. Today he called to offer the use of any of his equipment if I should find I'm short a piece. I can tell part of him would like to go along an do it all over again. As consolation, that part will know satisfaction in seeing me realize the same experience. He wants me to have what he has. But what exactly is that?

I've been in the place Dick is now and know it's almost impossible to articulate what you are feeling and why. So I didn't bother asking such questions. But it remains an issue worthy of exploring.

A client of mine greets me with the word "Why." On the phone or in person, our conversations always start with him asking "Why?" There's no context and there doesn't need to be any. We both know what he is talking about. I usually offer some short response, a pop fly in a tied ball game, then say the real answer is just too long. But it seems suitable that I should answer that question here, before my body catches up with my mind and I find myself far too busy. So my next entry will take a serious swing at this. I will title it "Why I Climb."