Torridon Diaries #7

I passed up the chance to have a sociable day swinging from bolts at Am Fasgadh to go to Torridon on my own.  Malc's isn't going to climb itself.  But even before I left the house I knew nothing had changed and that conditions weren't likley to be great.  The seeds of doubt have started to sprout into seedlings and saplings.  I went anyway.  Between weather and other things I'd not been out to the Glen for three weeks. I've had a few quick blitzes on Rich's board and at Alien 2 in Edinburgh, and a few deadhang sessions in the brief spells back at home, but doing more days in the field at work and the lack of contact with rock left me feeling sluggish.

So, arrival at the Ship. A cold, strong Easterly is determined to steal my tarp before I can pin it down with rocks and pads.  I've tried to warm up but the wind robs any heat straight away.  I have a few goes but it feels terrible.  I feel terrible.  The head games change up a gear.

Why am I here?  What am I trying to prove, and to whom?  This piece of rock is clearly way beyond me.  Always has been, always will be.  Frustration. But I'm not sure where it comes from.  Is it not being able to do it? Or is it for kidding myself that I thought I might?  Injustice.  What do I need to do?  Haven't I tried enough?  I feel like I've spent enough days and enough day dreams on this.

I pack up and move off.  There's a huge list of things that I'd like to do in Torridon, some new, most old, but it's always felt like I'm missing the point if I concentrate on them before doing Malc's.  Maybe now it's time to move on. Before I start to head up the hill Ann and Nigel arrive.  They've both been working on their own projects for months and are obviously psyched for another day of battle.  Their motivation brings shame to my self-obsessed pity.

It turned out to be a pretty good day in the end, doing a cool new (?) problem up on the Stokes Croft level, and finding lots of stuff to come back to.  On arrival back at the car there was a note under my windscreen wiper from Ann and Nigel.  As I read it, the motivation started to return...