A friend indeed

This is George. I met George at a little nondescript crag in Texas about 10 years ago. We have since to climb together, however, I have always hoped that we would find time to share a rope again. George and I have stayed in touch through the years. An email here....an email there. Usually short and sweet, something along the lines of "hey I'm doing fine, alive and climbing". The short time that we shared was of the substance that defines the essence of being a climber. George was alone, just bouldering around. If my memory serves me, other than us, he was the only other one there. He had walked from Mineral Wells (the town) to the crag. Maybe he hitchhiked. We climbed for the day and got to know each other. We offered him a ride back to his hotel and as it turned out he ended up over at our apartment. We were fond of George and his funny accent. He was so full of wonder and surreal climbing stories. There was a bond there that only need be explained if you do not climb.
So George read my blog the other day and replied with one of the most gut wrenching, heart felt, emails I have ever received. I am attaching both of his emails below. Not to gloat or prance around because I have cool friends, but because it is a classic example of the dignity and respect that one person can have for another. The bond that holds together a friendship over oceans, mountains, and many miles. The kindness in ones words can do more for ones spirit than can the most potent of pills prescribed for the reason of relief. Relief is what I felt when I read George's letters. Once again, a friend comes along and lifts you up when you have been beat down to what feels like the point of no return.
I hope that someday George can make it out this way or we can make it out his way. Either way, I know that we will remain friends with an unbreakable bond....right up until the end. Thanks George your heartfelt grace will not be forgotten.
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Well Jim, My memory of 30th Aug 1990 is that I was damn well gonna put that new route up before it got dark. yeh, sure, I'd need to sort the ropes out that I'd cleaned the line with but it wouldn't take me long. I sorted them and proceeded to abseil off the top of the crag. How was I to know that when I grabbed both ends and stuffed them into the belay device, in my haste I'd actually dropped one end. When I began the very rapid seventy foot descent to the hard, hard ground then I understood my mistake! I remember lying there looking at a darkening sky and beginning to see stars appearing out there in the cosmos. They seemed welcoming and awe inspiring to me because they told me I was still a living sentient being. I didn't know if I would remain so at that point but at least I could look at the Universe for a bit longer before I went. As it happens the only place I went was hospital. The paramedic asked me if I'd been unconscious. "No" I said. Then my climbing partner Tim, calmly told them I'd been unconscious for ten full minutes! Oh, right... And yes, it was painful, and yes I wished I'd been more careful but I was pushing hard that year and I always knew it could happen. I spent a lot of time in that hospital bed thinking about life the Universe and everything just like you. I thought about climbing and what I was doing and I thought about whether it was really worth dying for. I only ever came up with one answer. Of course it damn well was! I realised in that bed that I was actually comfortable with the risk I was taking on a weekly basis and that, yes, I actually was comfortable with the idea of dying for climbing. Something I hadn't realised before because I was too busy climbing to think about it.And yes, just like with you, they said, " you won't do that again". The surgeon who put my limbs back together said "you'll never climb again with that arm". Just like you I looked him right in the eye and said " Yes I bloody well will mate!" Well, it took a while and lot of physiotherapy but I did get that arm straight again. The one they said I never would, and I did get to climb again. In one year I was back to where I'd been and I was climbing harder if anything. I had just taken all those months of hard work and recuperation as an occupational hazard and focused on my goal of climbing like I'd always done. Why? Well because climbing is me. It defines me and always has. And so it is with you. Nine months later I was standing at the bottom of that potential new route. The Scottish climbing community had been gracious enough to leave the line alone for me. I stepped onto it and immediately felt like I was back where I should be. A short while later 'Nearly an Angel' E3 5c existed. Now, the guide book just says "George MacIntyre broke an arm and a leg on this climb". They don't know the half of it!! Now, that text makes me smile in my old age. Hey, what am I trying to say to you Jim? Just that I'm there with you and I know what it is to go through it all. I commiserate with you and celebrate with you also because you understand the value of climbing despite it's risks. You get from it what it's meant to give and for that you are blessed. I salute you. Ignore everything the physio's tell you, get better and, hell, lets go climbing!! Regards to your family. (the ones we put through hell while we're doing our thing).

Geo.
ps. Awesome blog!!
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Jim, I'm glad you are uplifted by my words and I'm glad you cried. When I read of your fateful happening and your thoughts on it all, it was like reading a bit of my own past. We connect mostly through the ether you and I but we have a strong connection in our understanding of one of the most beautiful feelings in the world - that of just cutting loose, trusting your instincts and not being afraid to take that risk. And yes, you should shed some tears. I know I did. I cried when I realised I was comfortable with the potential price of death for something I loved. I cried when I thought about what my obsession was putting those I held most dear through. I could tell myself that when I was on rock I was in control. I'm not sure I always was but those loved ones sure as hell were not in control of the fear they felt for me each time I picked up that sack full of climbing kit. It's a selfish sport at that end of things. A climber needs to be inwardly honest about that but you just have to be who and what you are. there is no other choice in life unless you want to live a lie. You have to learn to feel the hunger and the guilt in equal measure and be ok with it. It's a toughie but it's a climbers lot. Those who truly love you will understand and accept. The photo? A frivolous moment on a crag just above Zermatt in the Swiss Alps, just around four weeks ago as it happens. I don't feel so fit right now but I do appreciate the compliment. Just stay positive, stay focused, look around you and be happy to be in this life. It's a hell of a great place to be. In a couple of weeks I'm on my way to Tuolumne meadows with my wife Anna, to do some climbing and hiking. I'll think of you for sure!

take good care.
Geo.