Friday 18 May 2012

Rhythm is a mystery

K-Klass in their 1993 house hit wondered about the power of rhythm:

I cannot begin to understand the things this feeling does to me, the feeling takes the lead and controls meÉ

Even in this land of ice and granite there is rhythm. With modern life we see planes fly in, drop climbers off, tents go up, tents go down, planes come in climbers fly out.

But as we spend more days out from Talkeetna we get in step with the Rhythm in the mountains. Catabatic winds warm up and cool and rush up and rush down the glacier, it is if the mountains are breathing throughout the day. Snow falls, builds up into lung busting depths. Then the sun cooks it down to form a tough carapace that provides a wind polished surface of ivory pewter. Its then like walking on a giant crme brulŽ. I see Gaia even here, we are all one and indivisible.

In the afternoon snow heated slopes wake the mountain and the granite grumbles around us sending down cascades of blocks and stones, ice and snow. We watched the serac at the top of Mount Bradley crack in the afternoon sun, sweep down the route Spice Factory and blast its way across the glacier towards our camp. Mount Bradley had got out of bed the wrong side that morning. Looking on we think we are spectators, but really as John Muir said: We are not going out into the mountains but we are going in. And as time passes we are going in deep.

Yesterday Matt and Jon went out into the mountains and came back. It started off as a 4.30am alarm from my iphone like a U-Boat preparing to dive. I slid silently under the waves of down and pretended to hide until my own self-inflicted depth charge roused me up and out. I hate mornings moaned Helliker hunkering in the Megamid gulping coffee and trying his best to ignore the minus ten deg c temps.

After coffee they both look razor sharp as the ski off for their climb. Adrian and I disappear back to our pits and follow a little later towing a pulk for a two night bivvy to watch them on their chosen route. It's an awesome wall. As Adrian and I pick our way through sagging snow bridges we watch the two struggle as the arcing sun transforms ice to water and cascades down the cracks they are climbing. In the bright-day-light it looks Dark-in-bad. As K-Klass sing - Rhythm can be dangerous.

We soon hear on the walkie-talkie the right decision and they abb off and we ski back to camp. Our rhythm repeats itself as the evening wind rushes past our tents - coffee, cook, eat, banter, coffee, bed and fart ourselves to sleep. This morning we are back on form with sorting gear, drying gear and packing gear, a new mixed objective in sight - Jon says it going to be an integral traverse of a big ridge.
IÕm handed a coffee and its time to go off-line, drink the java and watch the mountains deep in the Denali range. We are moving to the Alaskan rhythm of alpinism. Move your body to the Rhythm.

Johnny.

No comments:

Post a Comment