Out here on the left coast, May is showing some signs of developmental delays. May is acting a whole lot like April. Now it's almost June, and it's too late for a spring, so we're just holding our breaths for a summer. Although really, I'm a bit detached, since I'm jumping ship in a few weeks and going back to New England.
This past weekend, Memorial day, was one of my last excursions in the Northwest until August. Here are some images from the long weekend in North Bend, 40 miles outside of Seattle, where living has officially become an underwater experience.
It was a freezing few days, rain heavy, watery and slick. We sought out semi-dry lines that zig-zagged between waterfalls; at night we lay side by side in the smokey orange light of a roomy moutaineering tent. The rain's constant tap-tap on the walls muddled us into a trance, until all conversation was replaced by long stares and distant comments. The whole weekend went by like this: a deep, vivid, aquatic trance. I'm not sure this will make sense to you, but it was an elegant few days. I saw a lot of turquoise.
Leading climbs was luxurious. I could feel the blurry inside me begin to crystallize. Do you know what I'm saying? It means I stopped thinking about general shit and I only think about the shit that's going to get me to the next bolt.
This past weekend, Memorial day, was one of my last excursions in the Northwest until August. Here are some images from the long weekend in North Bend, 40 miles outside of Seattle, where living has officially become an underwater experience.
So, that's all I'm going to think about from now on. Deciding what the next bolt is going to be, and getting there.
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