| Anti-Climbing At Pinnacles |
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Page 9 of 9 "Your thoughts and actions," Vancouver remarks, "are much akin to those of the childlike Indians I observed. As I wrote in my diary, most had not bettered themselves, had not made habitations more comfortable than those of their predecessors. I would wager this is still true.""Must we judge a people by their shelter? Did you not ever discover something of yourself on those long journeys? Yes, we gratefully lost all care for anything beyond the crackling weeds underfoot, the purple and brown of evening, and the straggling path down. What occupied us was a little howl of glee as we nipped prudence on its back. We were emptied of care and filled with nothing more than ... a rolling giggle. So whole did we feel that no man, woman, vocation, promise, or problem could hold a moment's thought. And when we looked back to our horrible shroud of rock, still oozing, it was no longer with the wicked terror we had first known. Our wonder had transformed it into a magnificent, hulking friend, and in that moment, somehow always with us, all else in nature became comprehensible, including our brief lives so tiny on the spinning globe. "Can we go on to something else?" asks Vancouver. Our small plane straightens out from its circling over Pinnacles, and we head north. After a minute or two, the view back reveals little of consequence in the smooth, rolling ranchlands and cultivated valleys. Above, caught deep in cobalt blue, are the first stars. I doze to the drone of the engine and remember the echo of frogs below Resurrection, the smooth, slender foxes, and the view to the dusky Balconies. I realize that I love most of all the moments at the ends of climbs, when the earth smokes in its beauty and innocence. Vancouver, do you read me? You, the mapmaker, negotiator, loyal subject of the Crown, are the outward explorer; I am the inner. I would not trade my days or perspectives for yours, and I know again that all of consequence for me lies in fleeting wonder near the towers and foxes, thoughts emptied of human exploits, technologies, and history.  Monolith Picture Information: (1) Chris Vandiver and Tom Fukuya begin Shake and Bake, by Tom Higgins; (2) Bruce Cooke on final pitch of Shake Bake, by Tom Higgins; (3) Tom Higgins on Resurrection, by Frank Sarnquist; (4) Tom Higgins completes the crux moves on Mechanic's Delight, by Tom Gerughty; (5) Tom Higgins and Frank Sarnquist on Monolith, by Tom Gerughty. Ascent, Sierra Club, 1980 |
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