A bare room. A cell within a cell within a cell. Solitary confinement at a high angle. Under the interrogation lamp. Trickling salty sweat. Blinded by the light. Ball and chained by my rack of iron. I contemplate the pendulum from where I am. Riveted to the spot – on a ladder of rusty dots. Halfway up a clown’s face, bending over us. With orange skin and black streaks where his mascara has run. Yes, he gets crazy and cries, but now he’s laughing. The victims of his slapstick humour hold on, not getting the joke, getting nervy. Whilst the crowd below roars with laughter.
One, two, go.
No.
One, two, three, go.
One, two, three, shit.
One, two, go.
Again.
One, two, three, no.
One, two, three, yes, yes, c’mon, shit, no.
“Steeeeeve.”
“Whaaaat?”
“I’m level with a spike. ’Bout twenty-five feet away. Trying to lasso it.”
“Okaaay.”
One, two … No.
Two, three … No.
What’s wrong with the thing.
One, one, go. Why do I bother …
“Paauul.”
“Wot?”
“What’s taking so long?”
“It’s not easy, Steve, believe me.”
One, two, three, no.
This time. One, two, yes. Ahaah. Yes.
“Got it, Steve.”
“Niiice work.”
Tie in to the lasso rope.
“Now lower me.”
Come on, calm down, You can’t hurt yourself yet.
I’m scared.
You’re scared of failing in front of him. That’s what it is.
But what about all these ropes and knots? I’m confused.
Concentrate on your job, man.
Swooosh.
The peregrine again.
Just climb the rope and prepare the spike for the pendulum, will you.
OK, the sling’s on but the spike’s a bit rounded now that I look a bit closer.
It’ll do fine. You’re just bottling.
“OK, Steve. Lower us, will you.”
Why do I use ‘us’? It implies that there’s more than one of me.
“That’ll do.”
Perhaps there is.
There’s only one of you. Now think about this swing … You don’t need to check your knot, you checked it ten minutes ago!
“OK. Hold me there. I’ll get a swing going.”
(From the meadow a wall-watcher sees a tiny dot, like a money spider, swinging left and right, left and right in a draft a little higher than some white bags).
There’s an edge, an edge.
(The swinger’s arc decreases and stops).
“I’ll have to come down some more, Steve.”
(The watcher’s eye is still on the lens as the dot swings further and further.
The watcher feels giddy just looking. The dot bounces out as well as across).
The edge – go on.
No.
One more.
One, two, three, jump … One, two.
One, two, jump … One, yurs!
(The dot stops at the end of its swing. Like an executive toy disobeying gravity).
OK, more edges. Free climb but keep the tension.
Sweat. Grains of granite the size of boulders.
“Keep the tension.”
Can’t go any further, I’ll take a pisser. I’m level with the spike. It’s miles away.
Get a hook on.
Fuck, fuck the hooks. Where the fuck’re the hooks?
On your left, idiot.
Found them. But the ledge slants. If he gives me slack my body weight will be pulling straight down and the hook’ll roll off.
Use two hooks in opposition then.
Facts like billboards.
That kinda works … Phoooo.
Calm down. Calm down.
There’s nothing here, I gotta drill.
If you drill it won’t be A5.
I can’t climb A5. I can’t cope.
Thudthudthud.
My heart sounds like the hammer.
Very observant. Come on you’ve got a long way to go.
He knows I’m drilling.
He would, too. What makes him so high and mighty?
Bangbangbang.
The hammer’s become a limp fish.
At last.
Finally.
“OK, Steve. I gotta bolt in.”
“Good one. Howzit look above?”
“More hooking then a ramp thing.”
Hear that?
“Hear that?”
The girls
“The girls.”
They’ve laid out their colourful clothes on the grass and their shouts harry to your fear.
“‘Honeeeeee, wee loave youuu.’”
Do you think they heard?
“Yeeeeeaaaah.”
They heard.
I want her. Couldn’t they rap in to us or something?
OK, hooking, hooking. Yes. Stand up. And another.
“This is awesome, Steve. A1 hooks!”
Just hope I’ve drilled the bolt OK.
Or you’re on for some granite rash.
Get lost.
The bolt’s a way below now.
Smack a blade in then.
Steady. Or you’ll rock your hook off.
How’s that?
Vury Naaace Meesta Preeetchard.
I need a drink.
I need a fag.
“Just taking a break, Steve.”
God, my feet hurt.
La la. La la la la la la. La la la la la la. La la la la la la.
But, I feel mad.
You’re a long way from home, Sonny Jim.
“I’m going to start nailing up this ramp, but the placements are really shallow.”
“I’ll staay awaake.”
Dingdindgingding.
That sounds OK.
Clip in.
Stand up.
Huh! Oh God, it moved.
Care … ful.
No sudden moves.
You’re OK.
Dingdingdunk.
Not so good.
Watch you don’t pull it out.
It points downwards, so if I lean out on it I can create a mechanical key.
Dunkdunkdunk.
Now my heart sounds like a peg being placed.
Another bad one.
This land is your land this land is my land.
Mmmmmm – a flared Friend slot.
Not so good. Only two cams.
Weight it.
From da da mountains to New York Island.
Dead easy.
This land was made for you and …
Snap.
Fuck.
Hold on.
What’s happened?
The Friend’s ripped.
Come on. Crimp like a bastard.
Gotta get the Friend.
Hook it with your foot.
It’s slid away.
What to do now?
“Haaaaah.”
Get moving.
Slap one on for that edge.
But that’s moving further away from the pegs.
The pegs are shit.
Yeah, go on. And again. Side-pulls. Smear.
Wish-had-rock-shoes.
Heelhook. Brush the lichen off. Hang in. Dig the soil out of that hole. Pull that root out. Go on. Get a nut in.
P-u-m-p-i-n-g.
Tap it in with your hammer.
Clip in.
Carefully.
Yes.
Another piece. A good pin.
Dingdingdingdingdingdingding. Ding ding.
Safer now. It’s OK. I’m here. I’m here.
“Paaauuul.”
“Yeah.”
“Howsitgoing?”
“OK, Steve. Had a frightener but I’m back on track now. AAA111 to the beeeelay.”