A beautiful warm, mellow, bluebell carpeted evening at Brimham last night. I was soon losing skin leaping around on that arete by the Blacksmith, hitting the top but sliding back down on warm abrasive grit. Onward to a wall Bryn fancied why I don't know? It would be nice if you power washed it and fixed the landing.
We headed down beyond the Druid's Idol and found a new boulder to play on. It was crimpy, rippled and fun. Down to Fag Slab for the solo but my head couldn't imagine me easing up it. So with a head that can't commit stay on the ground. Stuart's head space was more focused on success and he padded his way up it in some style, good effort.
I had a few pulls on Whisky Galore and I'm getting my leg up to the high foothold now, which is progress, still a good bit to do before it succumbs but I it will.
We finished off on the Trackside Boulder pulling and and padding as the light ebbed. I left feeling like I had wasted the evening but I suspect success is built on firm foundations of failure. Stuart I'm sure was walking on air.