Pick up any publication pertaining to the sport of rock climbing, and chances are, you will see a smattering of descriptive chronicles highlighting the travels and adventures of the prolific scribe Abbey Smith. A climber and writer for over 10 years, Abbey travels extensively, financing her jet set lifestyle though her writing, allowing her more opportunities to pursue her love of adventure. Abbey has reported on a myriad of topics. From the exclusive hobby of vintage motor racing, to sassy, healthy-savvy posts on BeThree.com, to being on the editorial staff of the independent green publication elephant journal, a quarterly magazine devoted to living the "mindful life" through conscious consumerism, sustainability, eco-fashion and non new-aged spirituality.
Abbey's energy for writing is ravenous. When she speaks of it, her article ideas roll out of mouth in constant barrage without commas, periods, or other punctuation, but when placed in front of a computer, the word stream subsides into descriptive prose reminiscent of Joanne Harris. Dead Point Magazine is privileged to have her as a contributing blogger.
As I stood under the start holds of Silent Sir, for the forth time that day, I felt the passionate rage to send surge throughout my veins. I breathed deep into my trembling hands and tried to erase the previous burns from my mind. With the cold desert winds pushing against my back as a whisper of assurance, I breezed through the first six extremely technical moves and tightened my grip into the awkward crux position. I paused to stare down the knob shaped crux hold as if the door was wide open, and thrutched with precision. As soon as I realized I was still on, moving off intuition, my heel popped and I was on the ground. I was in disbelief, but had felt the kiss of success.
When I find that perfect line it feels like unexpectedly jumping into a serious relationship--one that requires commitment, patience, passion and acceptance. Sometimes I don't even realize it's happening, until it's time to go and I can't tear myself away. The first time I laid my eyes upon Silent Sir I instantly fell in love. Silent Sir's delicate complexity is my object of perfection. The pristine, chalkless line gracefully transitions from a seven-move technical sequence into the mental crux: a 20-foot face on solid edges to straightforward mantle top out. I'm intoxicated by the attraction, the challenge, the torture, and the bliss. My dreams are filled with casual sends under sunny clear blue skies, but in reality it's a lot more work than originally negotiated. I can't fake it. I have to dig deep and try hard. Sometimes I wish I had never laid eyes on such beauty. But now I'm committed.
Falling in love is never easy, but life without pain is without passion. Likewise, when trying something at my limit, it's easy to feel betrayed, defeated and make excuses, but ultimately it's about confronting the dark side-fear, self-doubt, and self-inflicted pressure of expectation. The send occurs when I finally rip down the curtain, bare my naked feelings, and transcend to that weightless moment, where time stops for an instant.
My time in Hueco was running out and I knew I had one last chance to sever my ties with Silent Sir. I couldn't possibly leave without a final farewell. When I awoke Wednesday morning to 60-degree temps and sapphire skies, I knew the day had come. Like in my dreams, the family was there--Jason, John Dickey and our adopted Aussie Caine Delacey. As the strong winds swept from the desert sea below, I finally let go of the agonizing internal restlessness and moved weightlessly to the top. From that fleeting moment of success, I've been instilled with confidence, inspiration and absolute fulfillment, and can finally move on having felt that pure love.