In this blog post, I'm going to be creating a scene from a moment in my present life. The scene I've chosen to write about is when I went bouldering with a couple of friends at Haycock on September 1st. I have read What is Creative Nonfiction? (Lee Gutkind) | Making Scenes in Memoir (Lee Martin) to help give me some direction on how to composing a present scene. After being a haycock for to the past 2 hours, I walk upon Honeybun Arete. Honeybun is a V2 boulder leaning against a rock face with another boulder sitting on top. There are two little trees growing out beside the rock face. As I walk underneath honeybun, it feels as if I'm in a small cave. I can smell the trees and the damn moss all around. The ground is covered in rocks and moss that has fallen off the rock. Isaac and Ray throw the pads over the most likely places I will drop. I walk up to the problem squeeze on my tight old climbing shoes, coat my hands in white chalk them blow off the excess. I grab ahold of the starting jug. It feels gritty and extremely sharp I can't tell if it's the rock or my fingers that feel like they've been on sandpaper for the past 2 hours. I throw a heel hook and bring my right hand up. I feel confident, the rock's clean and it's only a V2 I should have no problem. I twist my body to the right grabbing the arrest of the boulder then quickly throw my right hand to the next hold. Only my ring and middle finger lock into the small chip of a hold. I realize next that the only way I'm going to hit the top of this boulder is to drop my heel hook, push off and throw for the top. I'm feeling tight every muscle is tensing up trying to hold on, so I don't fall. Isaac sees me tense up thinking I'm going to fall he pulls the mat under me. I hear him yell, Ray joins in also. If I don't move now my fingers are going to pop, and I'm going to fall. I dropped my heel, push for the top and grab the jug. My legs flying behind me as if somebody switched the pool of gravity. Suddenly I can feel my hand slipping it feels wet there must be moss on the rock. My hand pops, and I go swimming off the boulder. I plummeted down on to my stomach, right on the 7-inch black and orange foam pad. My fingertips are pink and purple, my knees scraped up, my toes are squished, and I'm ready to try again. I do not have any pictures of me on the border problem but here are a few pics of it that I've found.
2 Comments
Coleman Clark
9/21/2018 05:33:05 am
I love that you were able to walk the reader step by step through rock climbing, it really made it easy fro me to see where you were and what you were doing in the story.
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Nick D'Aversa
9/28/2018 07:43:23 pm
I've always wanted to try something like this but I've always had a fear of heights. At least I was able to live vicariously through this.
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GreinerI hope as you read my blogs you will gain insight into my aspirations. Archives
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