Silence hung in the evening. I was going to get pulverized. Unless we could maybe decide this whole thing never happened. The hammering started again, and cursing filled the air ...
I had seen Dean Potter in the mags and on videos and he seemed like a true ancient spirit. I loved the whole thing he had about being the bird and how different he was from all the other climbers. I thought he was great, still do. He was obviously hot property here for he stood ridiculously tall in the center of a small group arranged around him protectively. He was like a big scruffy lighthouse with wave upon wave of hangers-on breaking onto his rocks. We were psyched.
The author held Johnny Dawes, one of Britain's most influential and accomplished climbers, in the highest regard. Now, if he could just repeat one of his climbs ...
The rocks below a solo aren’t the only things that hurt when you slip.
It Was Just One Small, Innocent, White Lie. Almost Every Climber Fibs Some Times, Right? He Almost Paid Dearly For It.
The author has a moment of remorse when he makes up a story with a big pay off.