Nosing into Rosemarkie Bay after the dolphins came this sailing ship, which I think may be a barque but I'm happy to be better informed.
This is the face that greeted me at 7:00 this morning. He was singing at the top of his sweet little voice, "Come Thou Fount of Every Bwessing, Tune My Heart to Sing Thy Pwaise!"
Fight the Feeling, 8c+/9a, Steall, Glen Nevis. Picture by Lukasz Warzecha.
I finally nailed my Steall project. All I can say is I had a fantastic and heart stopping 20 seconds when I got through the crux and nervously continued, completely pumped to the belay. I was totally unsure if I’d make it until I had the finishing jug firmly in my hand. I think I was too nervous and full anticipation to even breathe or make a sound.
I’m so, so happy with this new route. The cliff carries a lot of personal history for me and completing it is a culmination of a big part of my climbing inspiration. It’s also one of the most stunningly nice rock climbs I’ve ever seen and the quality of the rock is just fantastic. Apart from all that, it’s also the hardest sport route I’ve climbed by a good margin.
It ‘went’ it straight away after I took a break to go bouldering in the alps for a week and then returning to find the long awaited perfect conditions (about 10 degrees with a breeze). Sure you could say (and some have said) I was crazy to try it through the summer heat, humidity and midges. That could be correct. Maybe I just tried it because I wanted to be trying it rather than it being the best thing to be doing? But maybe if I hadn’t had regular sessions on it I wouldn’t have got stronger on the moves and learned all the little things that get you higher on the climb.
I first visited Steall as an unfit 17 year old around 1995. I still remember being really inspired by the place, and by the hard climbs. They were just so far above what I could ever imagine. I’d seen the pictures of Malcolm Smith on Steall Appeal (8b) and Cubby on his Ring of Steall project which I’d heard could be one of the first 8c+s if he could finish it. When we went, Cubby’s draws were in place on Ring of Steall and we made it our day’s entertainment just to abseil down the crag. I was totally fascinated by how hard it must be to climb that smooth overhanging sheet of rock, and a seed was definitely sown to see how much of the huge leap from my level to being able to climb this I could jump.
Starting the crux section. Lukasz and Wojtek (The Polished Project) also shot some nice film of the route which hopefully will show off what a nice route and cliff this is. I always felt it was a shame that so few people know about Steall and how great the climbing is here. Yes I know there are a couple of midges about in summer. But right now (Sept) and right through the spring it’s a fantastic place to climb. Fight the Feeling takes in most of Ring of Steall (8c+) until past it's crux and then has a bouldery main crux on the headwall above. I gave it a split grade in the end and I'll wait for the opinion of repeaters. If Ring of Steall holds it's 8c+ grade then maybe it will end up as 9a. If not then it would be 8c+. It's certainly much harder for me personally than A' Muerte (9a) that I did a few years ago, but it's always hard to tell if one route just suits you more than another.
It was several years later before I returned and actually tried Cubby’s Ring of Steall project. Despite getting close, Cubby never quite finished it off, which I know was frustrating for him. I hope he can see that the vision for the line and the effort he did make carried a great inspiration for me and other climbers, which has got to be important and worthwhile. For me, the unfinished project it seemed like an obvious target to feel like I could make some sort of contribution to climbing in the highlands. I thought about it a lot and it eventually became a dream route for me. But when I tried the crux, it just seemed impossible. I wasn’t anywhere near strong or technically aware enough to do even the moves. More years later, with lots more climbing experience under my belt, I climbed the Ring of Steall project in 2007 which was a very memorable moment for me.
Despite it feeling so hard during the preparation of many days working on it, I did it effortlessly on my first serious redpoint attempt, much to my surprise. This of course opened my eyes that there was more space to improve. So the blank looking headwall above where Ring of Steall heads left to finish up a diagonal crack seemed like the obvious progression.
I placed the bolts and had great fun unlocking a sequence to connect a few distant tiny crimps on this. Initially, just linking the section where it left Ring of Steall to the top felt absolutely nails. In actual fact, I was stupidly missing a few obviously better methods to do the moves and eventually could link the headwall quite steadily.Eventually I redpointed through the Ring of Steall crux over 30 times but hit a wall by the time I got to the main crux on the headwall. I was lucky to have an up for it partner in redpointing during July and August, Dan, who nailed his summer project (Trick of the Tail 7b+) right 10 minutes after my top out.
Linking the whole route was desperate for me. I’ve learned a lot about my climbing limitations during trying it, because I’ve tried everything to get stronger and fitter to manage it. However, just like on Ring of Steall, when I finally did it, it felt easy. So the door for further improvement is still wide open it seems!
And that was my biggest problem - I had become convinced during trying it that not only was I struggling to make the improvements I needed to, but I was somehow losing my ability to climb, train, recover and have good days. Almost every attempt became a constant fight against this feeling. I don’t really know why I’ve turned into a sport psychologist’s nightmare, but I do seem to have lost a lot of confidence for some reason. The routine of preparing myself for a redpoint effort got progressively more difficult as last month wore on. I wasn’t nervous or scared of it, I’ve got enough experience to be able to swallow those feelings in a climbing situation at least. It was more that I stopped believing I had room to improve on my previous best efforts.
I wondered what I could do about this feeling at the time. It was really strange - one part of my mind was telling me that just keeping going with the training and work I was doing on the route would pay off sooner or later, while the other just didn’t believe it was making any difference. The only option really was just to keep going to find out which scenario would come to pass. In the end, several small things got me there. I kept going back and changing little things in the sequence that needed changing, simplifying the footwork and using a crucial intermediate hold on the crux. I alternated periods of working the route with a little time away to train, and I did a few sessions of deadhangs replicating the specific grips I needed on the route. Finally, I went a did some nice runs during which I tried to regain confidence while hopefully burning some fat.
I felt I really needed to finish the project to move on to another stage in my climbing and life. It’s taken the guts of a whole summer season, but well worth it. So I’m slightly less unfit than when I first visited Steall 17 years ago and it’s time to move on again. I have a few more wee climbs to finish off here yet before I’m completely done, but I’ll certainly miss climbing here almost as much as I’ll enjoy starting another adventure on some other steep bit of rock.
Finally... around 4:30, we found out that Avalon had "inhaled" some vegetative matters (plants that grow above ground) up her right nostril and it had made her nose interiors very raw and also her tonsils, poor pupper. We piled into the Sammiemobile and raced over to get her. This is the vet tech, Vickie with Ava.
She looked okay - Mom gave her oodles of hugs and loves...
She was all over the cookie that Vickie had for her!
We are supposed to keep her quiet (ha ha ha) for a week or so, but that isn't working out too well. To get the "vegitative matter" out, Dr. Bill used a saline solution. Avalon's poor eyes and right side (of her face) are very tender. We wish she would sleep, but she would really like to get outside and play, making noises to indicate this.
Avalon is very good at making faces that elicit sympathy!
Ah yes. Fall is in the 105 degree dry air. Leaves are a falling and being crunched upon, birds are a silent and hiding in the cool shade of trees, dust is a flying and tubulars are a churning.
Actually, tubulars were not "a churning". This little first race of the season caught us off guard and snuck up quickly so we both raced on clinchers. Which led to a few skid outs on the fast, flat corners.
My goals? Let's see, my goals... My goals were to race hard and not talk or yell at my kids in the middle of my race. After all, it was the first race of the season and really just a little tune up. I wasn't expecting too much out of myself.
We got there late, having not prepared what-so-ever the night before. We figured we could wing it since it was only a half hour drive from Oakland.
Mom, what kind of snacks did you bring? I was asked by the 8 year old.
Snacks? I said.
Yeah snacks, she said.
Did you even bring us snacks? asked the 10 year old.
Snacks? I said.
May I suggest not winging it and not getting to a race 25 minutes before your start time. And always bring kid snacks to a bike race if you have kids, even if you're winging it.
That's THE number one rule in the "Bike Racing With Kids 101" handbook. Actually it's number one AND number eight.
1) Bring snacks
2) Bring toys
3) Bring kid bikes
4) Bring hats and handiwipes
5) Bring water
6) Bring water guns to 105 degree bike races
7) Bring extra kid clothes
8) Bring more snacks
9) Be ready to bribe with ice cream when you want to stay and watch the later races
and almost as important as bringing the kid snacks...
10) Pack all this stuff into the car the night before, not 10 minutes before you're leaving on the day of the race while the kids are whining and complaining about having to get up so early to go to a stupid bike race.
Once there, in warp speed motion - I pee'd, registered, pee'd, got dressed, pee'd, drank more water, pee'd, got Lulu to put her helmet on, pee'd, put my helmet on, pee'd and then rode back over to the registration line to pick up my number that they hadn't had yet when we registered, got my number pinned, pee'd, ate a few GUs, surveyed & questioned those who had pre-ridden the course, drank some water and then made my way to the start.
Luckily the race seemed to be on the same schedule we were on - a little late. Things changed a bit at the start so as not to delay the rest of the start times throughout the day and all the women were started at once with all the juniors.
The C men started about a minute behind us.
I must say, it worked fine this way. The men were all very courteous and nice as they passed and the juniors were little enough to ride right over.
We started out pretty slow. In fact, it was the slowest start in a race that I'd ever experienced. Or maybe It was me who felt slow - moving in slow motion. Or maybe it was the juniors leading the pack and all the courteous women behind them. Or maybe, it was just because it was 95 degrees out at 9:10 am and it was the first race of the fall season.
Anyway, we split immediately with about 6 or so women right in front of me and then a gap behind me and another 9 or 10 behind me. And that's how it stayed pretty much the entire race. I tried to keep my teammate Jenny in eye sight just ahead of me and slowly but surely made my way past two more women during the course of the race.
We raced and raced. And it was as hot as hell, skidding around, taking gravel corners too fast on clinchers, running up a million stairs, dry heaving, coughing up hairballs, hippin' and a hoppin' over barriers, riding and running through sand.
On the first lap, one of my kids yelled at me. WHERE'S DAD? I CAN'T FIND HIM. And I NEED him now!
Well shit I thought, there goes my first goal. Please don't ask me questions now, I politely and gently cooed back while smiling and waving sweetly.
But I was wondering the same thing as I started the second lap. I think I'd like some water now please, I was thinking to myself.
At the stairs I saw Tom, husband of teammate Jenny, and he poured some water on me and gave me some to drink.
At the end of second lap, I saw my other kid, who was picking up a bottle from someone else but he saw me too late and the bottle he tried to hand me went flying. Wait mom, here, now I have it I heard from behind me.
Third lap bottle hand off was similar. The smaller child, Lulu was too short for me and our hand-off went a flying.
Finally, 4th lap I got a perfect hand off from Morgan. Perfect! Dear Morgan, my sweet husband. And I drank lots in case it happened to be the last good hand off for a while.
It all went so fast. And it all was so fun. And in the middle of it all after a few dry heaves, I even had a few seconds to think to myself, jeezus, this is SO much FUN and I must have been smiling because as I came to the sand someone yelled out, if you're smiling you're not racing hard enough! 
And then it was over.
I'm having a hard time working today. I'm taking tomorrow off, so today's kind of like Friday for me, so I'm sorta slacking. Working a little and slacking a little. Even middle aged moms slack a little.
I'm bored.
I've already harassed the sales team and I've scootered around hitting things with the golf club and it's only one o'clock. And I ate lunch already. And I went for a walk after I got my lunch.
Today's draaaaging. And to no end, I've tried to get Marie to show me the naked picture of one of our co-workers. She keeps telling me she has it, that it was sent to her mistakenly by someone in our other office. But she won't show me. I think she's lying. But who cares. I don't care.
I feel like I'm in a box.
This morning I didn't ride my bike into work. But, I did get up early enough for a nice 2 hour road ride before work. And I didn't wear knee warmers or arm warmers. It was one of those perfect little morning rides. And I felt great, so I rode hard. And then I cruised down the ridge. And the view was pretty. And I could smell the jasmine.
I woke up at 5:15 am because the bike racks and panniers and vacuum apparently fell out of the rafters in the garage. Morgan jumped out of bed in full boxer short samurai stance and then ran outside to see who was trying to commit crimes against us.
It was bike stuff, crashing all around in the garage.
Now, I'm looking at pictures. Old pictures.
I should do something more constructive like read the news or read blogs or search for garden furniture. But I'm in one of those moods where everything seems boring. Even the pictures are boring now. Even naked pictures are boring right now.
My studio co-worker is downloading songs from the 80's and making me listen. And now it's Willie Nelson.
Yawn.
I got to go home once more this fall the week before Thanksgiving. I had to drop off Gayle at the Atlanta Airport Monday night to fly out to Oklahoma and help Garrett drive home from Fort Sill. Since my parents' house is only two hours north, we spent the weekend with them. It was very leisurely and restful. 
In my life, there aren't too many regrets. However, one that lingered was that in 2001, I had the chance to see Midnight Oil play live, and didn't take it. I guess I figured that the opportunity would come again some time soon. History shows, of course, that it didn't. However, thanks to Wave-Aid (the Tsunami Relief gig) and Triple J, I was able to relieve some of that regret by listening to their reunion performance. Musically, they absolutely creamed every other act there, including some that were quite good -- and this from a band that hadn't played together in three years! However, there is so much more to Midnight Oil than this.
There have been a number of singers, musicians and bands who have made their living on the old "singing about Australia" line -- many of them have been country singers (John Williamson, Slim Dusty and Rolf Harris come to mind), and some short-lived rock bands back in the 1980's. However, none of them managed to do it in the way Midnight Oil did. The key difference being that the Oils covered all the bases, and believe me, not all of them were pretty.
Growing up in the 1980's and early 1990's as I did, I was able to witness quite a few changes in both lifestyle and the landscape; I had witnessed The rich get richer, The poor get the Picture, doing so in a country town, I had realised that The old world is not as safe with the new world closing in. However, our elected representatives didn't seem to care: everything's set, everything's fine, you've just gotta stand in line. Other times, I've seen beautiful landscapes threatened by reckless development: your dreamworld is just about to end.
Indeed, it's surprising how late I came to Midnight Oil, it was 1990 and Blue Sky Mine before I really discovered them -- although upon hearing their earlier records, I realised they had already been entrenched in my psychology for a long time. However, it was the video clip to Blue Sky Mine that really stuck with me -- coming from the working class background that I did. Here was someone prepared to stand up for the workers risking their lives in a mine while the suits raked in the fruits of their labour, not caring about those making it happen, or indeed the surrounding landscape; the company takes what the company wants, and nothing's as precious as a hole in the ground.
In time, of course, they would open my eyes to other issues; we've seen US Forces give the nod when market movements call the shots. We've seen the genocide committed against the aborignal people of Australia, how white man came, took everything. I found it quite ironic from the country that refuses to offer so much as an apology for this, to "celebrate" the aboriginal culture at the Sydney Olympics back in 2000. Of course, it was the Oils, during the closing ceremony, who sent out the message that so many of us wanted to convey, but didn't have the means. 
It wasn't the first time they sent out such a message, who could forget their hit and run concert in front of the Exxon building in New York back in 1990? Indeed, last night they mentioned "our friends in Timor", then sung the following:
Now we don't live with an absent master; we don't live on an island divided, don't want my kids to grow up in shame; in a country with a different name
However, it wasn't always doom and gloom. Songs such as In the Valley, Capricornia and Surf's up Tonight (just to name a few), showcase some of the beauty that this country has to offer. Sometimes it's the sense of escapism (and much of their earlier work seemed to be themed on this), sometimes it's just the feeling that comes from the place without a postcard. Either way, often after listening to some of these songs, I have the temptation to jump on the bike and just go, accompanied only by the Stars of Warburton.
Ultimately, it was the combination of these messages that identifies them, sets them apart from pretty much every other musical act ever produced by this country, or indeed the world. It also tells us that if we do things right, there is a future, and a positive one: In the end the rain comes down, and washes clean the streets of a blue-sky town.
However, there is one thing that cannot be denied, whatever that future holds: Forget about your cheap "souvenirs" at those stupid Duty-Free stores in Surfers, if you want a real taste of Australia, of my country, right or wrong, just pick up a Midnight Oil CD, and turn the volume up to 11.
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Fortunately it passes and we come to the American Basin.
