26 July 2010

A dream is finally a (half) reality.

Left: Gulich on Punks in 1985

I can recall many many years ago hearing about this little route called 'Punks In The Gym'. Hardest route at Arapiles (and one of the harder in Oz) supposedly. Was then the hardest route in the world in 1985 they say. Fell to the deft touch of a certain German superstar. No, not BrĂ¼no. Wolfgang Gullich. R.I.P Wolfy.

Anyway, back to my story. Everytime I would return to Arapiles (which on average is maybe once a year now) I would gaze up at 'Punks' and dream. 'One day I will feel worthy of attempting such a route, but not today' Yet that dream was realised last week, as I ventured off to Araps mid week, for a break from the shit getting me down in the city. So when I was meant to be frantically running around a warehouse barking orders, I was caressing the very holds God himself had used to dance up the wall, in the clean, crisp, soul reviving, country air.

Oh my what a route! Not in years has a climb or boulder problem captured my attention as much as this. This one route has given me the motivation to train hard, and a goal to really strive for. Something my climbing life has been lacking for quite a while. And considering I have come close to giving up climbing several times this year, this could not have come at a better time.

So, along with myself, Taswegian lad Doug McConnel and super strong Kiwi lass Mayan Gobat-Smith (both of whom are a bees dick from the send) are currently working the route. Word has it some sneaky NSW folk were trying it earlier, and I just got off the phone with fellow A-Team-er Grosey who was spraying about how he's gonna swoop in fresh from his Nowra trip to snag an ascent before me, along with South Australian Mick Wells and sweet cheeks himself Pat Turner.

Game on moles!

Bring on the Punks renaissance!

- TheBigAl

16 July 2010

Someone Save Me!

Who wants to give me a new job? One somewhere in the country. One where I don't have to stress about timelines. One where I don't have to take phone calls from egotistical head chefs of certain high profile restaurants complaining that their baby vegetables are all not of uniform size and shape. Where the pace of life seems to slow down to a gentle walk, instead of a mad sprint, and is preferably near the Grampians.

Everyday I wake up, struggle to leave my bed, and slink into work out of sheer habit. The monotony of the job seems to slowly kill me, just a little, day after day. The Boss Man takes it easy while I frantically keep things together. How many times do I have to tell the people I manage how to perform a task before they will learn it? I havent worked that one out yet. Apparently everyday for a whole week is still not enough for someone to learn how to clean up a single coolroom. Dear God! There's still another 3 coolrooms to go!

Then theres the sickness. Sleeping for 36 hours out of 48 hours over a weekend surely can't be normal? 2 climbing sessions in 4 weeks? Not cool dude, not cool.

On the upside, I just just finished watching The Wire. Holy shit what an awesome TV series! Just started on True Blood on the recomendation of a few. Now I'm tired again and dinner is almost ready.

Rant over.



- TheBigAl