I picture his body skating off the ice and plummeting toward me, boots, hands and harness all equipped with the razorized tools of frozen waterfall climbing. Chris moves higher and I am still nervous. My feet are screaming in cold pain, my hands are numb, my face is chapped and wet with sweat and tears. I want to be off this route. The wind grows stronger.
Ice climbing is as much a mental endeavor as it is a physical sport.
Beyond the harsh environment and strenuous nature of climbing, there is still the mind-battle of justification. These questions often take shape in the most inconvenient places. An epiphany chimes in me as I clamp two moist lips over a carabiner. In the summertime, on warm July granite, this is a common practice. But here on January ice, it is definitely a faux paux.