Climb your own climb.
That's a phrase my climbing partner and I use alot. When we work with students, it's a way to ease the concerns of those who don't get it very quickly, or to tame those who think it's a major competition. With the media we've used it almost every time, for the same reasons, and also as an explanation for what we do what we do. Perhaps it's like the old phrase \"because it's there\".
Perhaps that should be TCNC's slogan?
It's so true Michael, I tend to forget others climbing with me when I don't climb solo. Regardless of the depth of conversations (which range from conversations metaphysical to quotes from Fletch and Blazing Saddles, or even spontaneous tunes from Three Amigos in the case of Joseph and I) there is always that part of the climb where everybody goes silent, and you know that's when everybody is into their own climb.
Nicole Furgeson, the reporter in the tree with us, got silent like that for about 10 minutes, stared off towards the nearby river, and asked nothing. I think part of it was relaxing from the strain of the climb, but you could see the change. You know the one, the change that happens when one's perspective on the world changes before your eyes. I've seen that change the first time a student stands up on a high up limb, the first time a climber awakes in a treeboat and sees the sunrise through the leaves. I've seen it when birds pass by eye level with a climber, the individual strands in each feather visible as the breeze carries it by. I've see it when for the first time a climber feels the tree move in the wind, not back and forth, but twisting and heaving, giving and correcting. It's the one thing that will keep me introducing others until I'm unable to climb. I love the look of wonder and amazement, and the far off look, the blissfull stare.
Climb your own climb indeed. Just don't forget to observe how others enjoy theirs.
Cam "Icabod" Taylor