Falling
September, 1985
Perhaps this, the eve of a climbing trip to Yosemite, isn't the perfect time for me to be thinking about falling. Then again, maybe this is precisely the moment to be hashing around in the subject, knowing that in a little while I'll be up there on one of those slick granite faces, in that cathedral of rock, looking down from a perspective that makes the big pines look like moss on the valley floor, and that at certain minutes, like every time before, I will be so terrified that anything I've sa...
