I Won't Say I'm Homesick

We celebrated a smashing birthday dinner last night for one of the friendliest faces in Flatanger - James Riley! He's been here about as long as I have, and he's been a tremendous help around the house and crag. He's a gifted chef, and his birthday presented an opportunity for the whole campsite to come together and not think about climbing for an evening.

After delicious mackerel appetizers, a dinner of moosesteaks as tender and soft as our projects, and an entire bottle of cheap American whiskey (thanks John), I awoke to a beta map of Odin's Eye drawn across my chest with everyone having signed their respective highpoints along my torso. And with that, we are back into project mode.

One of my bigger successes here has been embracing bigger challenges (i.e. harder routes). In the states, I tend to try as hard as I think is reasonable given my present level. Here, I tend to try as hard as others think is reasonable for me. What a subtle, substantial contrast. It's actually been relieving to attempt routes I thought were beyond me, because I feel little pressure to perform. But optimism, at least for me, is impermanent.

I won't say I'm homesick. I don't miss my bed, my house, CERTAINLY not my school. I love my family but I stay in touch well enough to not long for them either.

Here's what I miss: Adventure.

And it seems silly. I'm across an ocean, living with people from every nook of the world, surrounded by a language I can't understand (except for "take", "fuck", and "mayonnaise"), climbing on a rock type and style I've never experienced, without cell service or a laptop, and I'm alone. Yet I struggle to find adventure.

Frankly, it's all been so easy. The novelty of the experience is an equivalent rush to the uncertainty of adventure, but novelty is a temporary feeling. As humans, and especially as climbers, we are creatures of efficiency. Do something long enough, and a routine inevitably develops, and routine is boring.

The last month or so I've felt Yosemite creeping into my thoughts. This week, I've had several dreams taking place in the valley. I long for early starts, aching toes, raw cuticles, and the world's most inspiring playground.

I think I've come to terms with leaving Flatanger. I need change. I'm not giving up on Odin's Eye, despite coming close to quitting a few days ago, after falling on the same move one too many times. I have 12 days left, and if I leave without sending, it will still have been a more successful trip than I would have dared to imagine. Besides, there's not much else I can climb here with 4 quickdraws (my entire rack of draws was stolen a few weeks ago, but I had/have 4 on Odin's).

I've booked my flight to leave Flatanger the 22nd. I'll fly to Belgium for a week or so to visit family and collect my Belgian passport (aka my ticket to staying as long as I want in the EU). Tentative plans are to take the train to Austria at the start of October. I'll climb with my friend Peter for the month, with a focus on time spent in the mountains, with perhaps a quick trip into the Frankenjura to keep the mono's cranking!

Until then, I'm trying to keep the faith for Odin's.