I met up with Dave Clawson, an old climbing buddy today for some climbing at Ogden's schoolroom. School--room is right. After months of winter lethargy I got burned out on the 5.8 approach. The views of Ogden City and Antelope island, as always, were marvelous.
About two years ago this time we were at roughly the same place with another friend. A party of three. But the temperature was in the mid-30's and the rock super cold. It was cold enough to inspire this poem, which I wrote that night when we were done. Happily it was in the mid 50's today.
Climbing in December
A distant billow of white
Hugs tight the rim of a distant shallow shore
A mass of condensation condecending
In the gathering cold of night.
The rock sucks up a deep orange glow
The last blow from that too far southern sun
All day, the light is cold, the shadows colder
Making our blood to slow
The rock is too deep to give
Any give except gravity's weight upon it's shoulder
A fist sized chunk, latent then falling
Into a boulder-field siv.
Blood runs easy in the open air
Bright-red flair oosing from a purple knuckle
A numbing prick and a gathering prickling
Pleading the heart its warmth to share
The December ascent--an erksome delight
At the onslought of night, I cannot but question
The worth of the climb and the climbing
And then...the distant billow of white.
