The River Rock

My shoulder hurts, left one, at the base of my neck. It's from belaying. Jay and I went climbing yesterday on the bluffs by the river.
I like myself when I'm climbing more than I do at any other time ever. Except maybe when I'm windsurfing. I like climbing more than I like sex.
The weather held again yesterday, beautiful and balmy. We rode our bikes 10 miles down the gravel river road to the bluffs, hardly saw anyone at all. No one but a very beautiful older woman with short, glossy brown hair in a pink and orange harlequin patterned one piece running outfit. "Hello," she said to Jay, in a faintly russian accented voice as she passed. Women are shameless. Women always flirt with men I date, right in front of me, as if I'm not even there. I think it's because I'm sort of mousy looking and I always end up dating these adonises. I mean, I'm not bad. I'm in good physical shape (a little squishy around the belly thanks to Nick and Lilly--but I'm skinny and squishy, if you know what I mean) and I'm well-groomed, but that's about it. I don't consciously choose gorgeous guys, I just think maybe gorgeous guys aren't necessarily looking for gorgeous women.
So we get to the bluffs. Jay put up most of these routes. He knows them like the back of his hand. "This is my favorite place in the world." he tells me. He's told me this before. It's funny, because it's always been one of my favorite places too. I used to come here all the time on my own, before I knew Jay, before I knew climbers liked to climb these places. The John Crows like this section of the bluffs and the Indians used to call this part of the river the great mother, and they thought that this particular section of bluff was the place from whence all creation had sprung. I used to sit at the top of the bluffs and the John Crows (vultures) would come flapping next to me, and I would think about my friend, Chet Alexander and how he said that these birds were the most noble of all the animals, because they didn't waste. So it's funny that it's one of Jay's favorite places, too.
He picks out a nice easy route--a little 5.6, which is right within my range. I'm not very good yet. He wants to work on my belaying, because he doesn't feel very secure with me on the ground. There's this technique, where you sort of fold your arms up together, pinch off with your left hand and slide down with your right. And I can't get it. I get hopelessly confused. There's another way I think would work, but he's adamant that I not do it any other way, so we've been arguing about it. I'm left handed, though, and I keep getting confused. Finally, I just say, "would you please just let me try it my way? I think it's basically the same thing, but left handed." So he does, and lo and behond, it works. I'm belaying smoothly. Although it looks all wrong. He takes a small practice fall, to see if I can hold him, and that's the last we speak of it for the rest of the afternoon.
He leads. He's so beautiful when he climbs. I don't know how to express this. I just want to munch on him. His legs look so good when he's up there, like a dancer, and he just looks absolutely in his element. It's like watching a seal or an otter. It's a little harder than he remembered. I watch how he goes up, but I never watch him too closely, because I can always find my own weird way up something. "Hmmmm.....I never thought about doing it that way," he'll say. Besides, he's about a foot taller and 70 pounds heavier, so what works for him physically will not work for me.
Then it's my turn. I'm seconding for the first time, which means I'm removing the carbiners--and I know any climbers reading this will probably correct my vocab--I don't have the jargon down at all, in spite of hearing about it night and day for the past 2 years. After climbing for the first time last thanksgiving, I spent last year working on my upper body strength, and I have to say there's a lot of improvement from last year. I can trust my arms a lot more, something I've never been able to do in my life til now. It's a little unnerving removing the safeties and clipping them to my belt. And I'm doing okay until about 3 feet from the top, when all the sudden, I can't think of what to do next, and I temporarily panic. It's funny how suddenly this comes on. I'm just humming along--phht, phht, phht, like a little monkey and then all the sudden I'm like, "holy crap." it's like I come to 60 feet above the ground on the side of a bluff. I'm terrified. I want to pee myself. The rock seems absolutely smooth, unforgiving, offering no quarter. I suddenly don't trust anything about my body--my feet, my legs. Do you remember Watership Down and how the animals go "tharn" when confronted by danger? That's where I am on this rock. Tharn. Jay knows this. I can feel the rope, loose til now, not even noticed, tighten.
"You can come down, if you want." He says.
Ah. Saved once again by my inner "fuck you"
"no, I'm good," I say casually. I start humming, which is what I do at the hospital during traumas and I'm panicking and I run my hands over the surface of the rock, up and down. And I find a surprise. The rock only looks smooth. Below my waste, where I wasn't even looking or reaching for, I find a tiny little ridge, maybe 1/2 an inch out, sort of lipped over. It was hiding from me, I'm able to grab it with both hands, hold myself in close to the rock and inch to my left, where i'm able to find a foot hold and a friendlier hand hold above me.
"Nice!" Jay calls from the bottom.
So, grasshoppers all, keep going. There's always a hold somewhere.
That's my 1/2 hour.