Up north of Berlin on a gloriously warm Sunday for Dasniya’s birthday. All unbearably pretty countryside and fields and glades.
On my way to meet Emile for Pacific BBQ Café Cantonese roast duck and our usual madness (which happens all too infrequently). Sci-fi replacement skyline and Sydney / London memories.
Post-Bush Mechanics 15 minute visit after successful cross-town burn to make it before closing.
This is my commitment to perseverance, endurance, and suffering. In panorama. 120 metres of finger-ripping bluestone, of which I’ve worked out maybe 10 metres. I had a quick climb yesterday before going to Williamstown Beach, and again today before seeing beautiful Paea, and later most excellent Emile. Some moves became a small sequence. It’s a delight. Thin edges, feet smearing on nubs, a right-hand pincher that swaps to a gaston via a vertical crack between two blocks where the mortar fell out, just enough to get the edge of middle and tip of index finger of my other hand into, then another tiny edge to get my left hand to a side pull on the same pincher after I’ve reached wide right with my foot to a rather good edge and going for an invisible single-fingertip pocket where a sea shell fell out, all stretched out and pulling myself into the rock. When it came together, along with the moves leading into that … this is where I belong.
Moving again. Rest Area and Stone Tape Theory finished, FOLA finished, a couple of days in Melbourne and then airports and airports. Remembering the tree I woke up to.
High cirrus cloud marking change’s arrival. Unsettled high wind, biting sun glare, and early afternoon me wading on the gentle sandbanks of Williamstown Beach. I picked up a touch of Australian sunburn.
Current view from my North Melbourne, Naarm balcony, home for the next couple of weeks.
Leaving my first chalky marks on the wall. 6 metres down, around 110 metres to go.
The bridge is an endless, low serpent stepping across the marshland. I took Onyx’ bike and rode back to Scienceworks, to the long bluestone wall on the side of the Yarra. I haven’t climbed bluestone in ten years. Fingers and body remember but cannot. I walk from one end to the other and back, more than 100 metres of hard climbing in both directions, feeling the rock with fingertips and toes. I remember when I first started climbing the railway bridges in Balaclava, East St. Kilda, it took me months to be able to string together one traverse, months more to reverse it, months again to do the other side of the road. This is the same, but harder.
Climbing walls to get at science. Climbing walls around the back when there’s a locked gate up the front side. Climbing walls “like, it’s literally a metaphor, lol.” In the end, I find the first several moves. Still more than 100 metres to go.
The park exists because the new Bundesnachrichtendienst buildings want a clear line of sight. The park exists because it’s a sliver of left-over land through which the south branch of the Panke Canal runs, briefly above ground before being returned to it’s tunnel until it’s spat into the Spree by Bertold-Brecht Str. There is another momentary surfacing behind Deutsches Theater where it dog-legs between the buildings. I have never seen this. It seems to do some right angles to surface in a gully along Schwarzer Weg as well. I think of the Panke as my canal, flowing as it does just beyond the buildings of Uferstudios when I lived in the Uferhallen. I’d always wanted to see where the Südpanke went, but it seemed only underground. Not at all. Between the Spree and BND it flows through a narrow park, one side wetland, the other promenade. Justine showed it to me today as we walked from Naturkundemuseum to Uferhallen, following the stream.