Our sympathy for these fellow sandstone climbers does little to dampen our spirits, but does everything to increase our respect for what isn’t normally considered an extreme climate, especially on a benign day like this in the South. And to think I always thought lizards had it pretty good here. Strike that off the Southern stereotype list.

After the straight-in finger crack of the classic Digital Mcabe (5.10b) we call it a day. Luke needs to be back for dinner with his young son Layton (so-named after Layton Kor), his wife Melissa and their newly-minted little girl Kestrel — as in North America’s smallest falcon.

We bid farewell with promises to climb again soon. Oh, how about tomorrow? Next day I’m back on the road, the long drive back up to T-Wall from Atlanta minus Caroline. The drive allows for some sappified sentimentality to percolate under the seat. It’s weird going cragging without her, and like possessing a phantom limb, I turn to the seat next to me expecting to see the missus planted there, smiling. We’ve done this drive so often in the last three years I could hardly count. We usually talk or listen to NPR’s Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me, but today I just crank the radio and rock out as much as is musically possible to “Appalachian post-punk solipsists,” Will Oldham, aka Bonny “Prince” Billy.

Luke is spot-on timely, already waiting at the Bi-Lo parking lot for our rendezvous. We get in his car, following the meandering course of the Tennessee River as it winds deeper into the woods. We pass a great swath of kudzu, a non-native plant so pernicious it’s become an urban legend. The plant devours everything in its path including houses, and it’s been known to give an evil chuckle at the sight of weed wackers. Same goes for the decidedly Southern trait of not being able to let go. A trailer home is slowly being swamped by a festering mélange of washing machines, lawn pools, motors, beaten cars on blocks, while the packrat himself sits on the porch on a musty lounger with the fine knowledge that one day he’ll find a use for it all. He probably will.

Soon, though, this bit of riverside charm gives way to the woods, and eventually the small camping and parking area, the lot featuring a full head of cars, more than the day before.

Beating our way up the trail, Luke tells me Rob Robinson, the man who perhaps more than any other, is responsible for both discovering T-Wall and developing it, will join us a little later. Meantime, though, we’ll get in a few routes, warming up on Prerequisite For Excellence (5.8) and Multiple Use Area (5.9), all really golden. Next-door, Love Handles (5.10b) looks interesting with its hollowed out scoop above a one foot diameter “handle.” Luke fires the crack, slings the “love handle” and then ponders the thin moves to a lone bolt protecting the crack-less face above. He tries a few different combinations and then works it out smoothly to an overhanging roof. Placing pro, he moves up the burly jugs, grabbing a side-pull off a rounded Gaston to the top. Well done. My turn.