The idea was climb, camp, climb…

It started with a after­noon of climb­ing on Sat­ur­day. I lead three really nice routes and had no falls. The camp­ing fol­lowed on Sat­ur­day evening, and was going very well with one of my favorite com­bos: red wine, cheese, and bread. There was no rain, no mos­qui­tos, a nice fire, and then whiskey. The final com­bi­na­tion was not kind to me, not unex­pect­edly. I even went to bed rel­a­tively early com­pared to the group after being very respon­si­ble and try­ing to drink a lot of water, but Sun­day was not to be a good climb­ing day. I was nat­u­rally tired, but I felt a bit guilty about my grumpy mood, because it can still just be a nice day out­side. How­ever, I tend to get a bit frus­trated with myself. Mainly, I just felt like a tak­ing a shower and a nap. Also, I didn’t want to erase the feel­ing of the good leads with some bad ones. After walk­ing over to the first climb­ing sec­tor and see­ing the whole group already started, three of us decided to head over to dif­fer­ent sec­tor. That was a good deci­sion, because the tran­quil­ity and the friendly two-pitch route helped my state of mind a lot. That was all the climb­ing that I did yes­ter­day, which was fine.

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