After spending the month going up and down the slopes of Sant Llorenç, the recompense has come - clipping the anchor on Calladeta fas més goig. A couple more belayers, more encouragement, and coming back - the apparent miracle repeats itself, the sky opens and lets one pass. Or, the effort pays off. Luck or skill, but there I am, making my truth on a cold Saturday with perfect friction, for once sticking the last hold, pushing it all the way to the top, adrenaline working its way up the muscles at the same time, the brain saying no, the body making the moves almost automatically. Feet moving with precision, hands sticking to the rock. And there it is.
A project done, not much more or less to say, we still move around the sun, everything else is irrelevant, or oh so relevant.
Here is the landscape, that became so familiar over time:
The landscape that preciously keeps the sighs, the cries, the laughs, the coming and going of its inhabitants, ardent worshipers, and simple passer-bys. Christian on Descanzo, Sergi on Fenaskistiskopi, Robert on Yo Claudio, Juan on Sexo, Salud, y Sant Llorenç, Fernando and Francesca on Emperatriz Esmeralda, Jose, Dani, Txema, Marc alongside me on Calladeta, Juanjo on Metzina, Marieta and Esteve on Sueños de Piedra, Ivan on Panxa del Bou, Oriol on No t'ho perdis o en Mision de dios despertando el ferro. Moments in time, flickering lights in the eternity of fireflies, ignored by all, remembered by a few. A landscape full of people. A landscape all by itself, lonely and transcendentally beautiful.
And as always, thanks to my belayers, that not only catch my falls, but also try to make me a better person. Asi vamos, uno sueño de menos...