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North Shore – Waimea Bay Bouldering – “The Chicke…: http://youtu.be/7A86ypN1hqk
When I first started climbing, I remember hearing a lot of words that made absolutely no sense. When the much more climbing savy person with you is yelling, “hand heel the green jug!”, it really helps to know what those things are.
Over time, you learn what these terms mean simply by being around other climbers and putting two and two together. I would liketo speed up this learning process for you, or at least provide you with some clarification if you’re a climber, or some entertainment if you’re a non-climber.
Oh, and the words themselves are in alphabetical order, but the pictures are not I’m afraid. Also, several words do not have an accompanying picture because I felt they didn’t really need a physical representation. But luckily, most of them do! So, enjoy – I hope you learn something!
Climbing Terminology– Nonsensical words that actually make sense
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This walk lies a little longer in the past, but I didn’t want to keep it from you :-).
Following my ‘Bored of Hiking‘ post, I followed up a suggestion of one of my blog readers and researched the White Cliffs Walking Festival in Dover that was supposed to be on the August Bank Holiday weekend. (What’s the Bank Holiday about, you wonder? We celebrate the ‘Late Summer’. UK doesn’t have an Independence Day or an International Worker’s Day, so the government had to come up with an alternative to avoid emigration due to the insufficient amount of bank holidays.)
We arrived in Dover early in the morning…
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Thoughts on Location No 52
Ayers Rock Resort, Yulara, Northern Territory
Our quick trip to Uluru was jammed packed full of excitement. We spent time bushwalking, watching the sun rise and set over Uluru and Kata Tjuta, taking way too many photos, and in between all of that, trying to stay cool.
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Brisighella is a medieval village in the province of Ravenna, Italy. It is famous for the Castle Rocca built in 1228, the “Clock Tower” rebuilt in the 19th, the “Donkeys’ Road”- an elevated road which is unique in the world. It is unusual and antique village which dates to the end of the XIIth century.
Like a river on a map, I trace the sinuous line with my finger as it meanders over the stone. The crystallised vein is rust-orange in a shadowy white expanse. The marble is rougher than I’d imagined, more like a sheet of compressed salt, baked solid by sun. A few succulents flower in the fissures, sustained by grains of soil wind-spilled into the cracks – enough to send up a shower of pale yellow stars. I hear the sighs of the sea beside me, whispers of wind through the pines. I’m standing in an abandoned quarry, hemmed in by its high cathedral walls, seawater licking the cove. A flight of herons steers eastwards across the sky. I follow that weaving line in the marble until the mineral seam slips out of reach, rising up the cliffs like a lit fuse…
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