Climber | Visionary | Dreamweaver
“I think it's so foolish for people to want to be happy. Happy is so momentary--you're happy for an instant and then you start thinking again. Interest is the most important thing in life; happiness is temporary, but interest is continuous.” ― Georgia O'Keeffe Tentatively, Pete weights the V-thread he's just made in a … Continue reading The trouble with happiness
Excerpt from our Patagonia 2014 expedition report
There's a man living in my house. I rarely see him; he hides behind the mirror, and whines. The other day I found him and said: "Tell me, does the storm still rage, does the wind still blow?" "No." "Then why are you bent, and bracing and facing away?" "Well..." "What!? I see that you … Continue reading Come with me
Another day of thunder thunder; wonderful. Wooden slats of broken sofas choke, strained fingers stretch. There's creaking in the eaves, in the wind and the leaves. And and eyes full of hope, sentences of belief, we, arm in arm by the skin of our knuckles grinding our teeth in a fist fight fairy tale. Still … Continue reading Waiting
You never told me how scared you were. I expect you tried, but I guess the words took a more assured form, in a bid to convince. Don't worry, I understand. I too keep fear locked deep within. Hell, it's something I bury, even now. You needn't have worried though. You are forever capable of … Continue reading The irony of empty spaces
Masons we stood and watched aghast as the stones that were laid crumbled, the hewn edges cleaved and cut blurred, and we scattered like hunted beasts to find that all was given with cracks and always was. So we howled for our gods to stop the floods and rejoiced perhaps missing that we were free, … Continue reading The Diagnosis
A cool summers afternoon tempts us out. Tuesday at work proves unsatisfying, but as we drive home towards Sheffield a low light illuminates the eastern edges, and alters our course. No time to go home, stone and a sweet Yorkshire nectar are calling. We park at the fox house and walk giddily into Burbage south, … Continue reading A dirty little secret
