"A word on the spot is worth a cartload of recollections"
James Maggs, Southwold diarist 1797-1890

Monday, 27 February 2012

Tunnel Cuddling

After a breakfast of green tea and porridge we drove south along Mefjord past Senjahopen. On the way, a sea eagle dropped down onto the road ahead then flew away. Turning the bend toward where it had landed another eagle was standing in tthe road clutching a fish. It turned its head to look at us as we approached, before spreading its wings and flapping lazily away. The first eagle must have been trying to steal the fish. 

We parked and walked along the road to the base of a 100m climb, 3m from the road by the entrance to a tunnel. The first pitch was WI3/4 the second probably hard 4. Both of us had hotaches at the first belay, in my case nowhere near as bad as the worst I've had but enough to bring on nausea as my hands thrummed with new blood. Later as I stood belaying Nick, with heavy spindrift whirling around and up into my face I wondered "why do we do this?". I later learned Nick was thinking something similar at the uncomfortable top belay as he brought me up. But a lot of the climbing was enjoyable, despite our slight rustiness, and the memory of discomfort always seems to fade fast. 

As we got back to our bags after the abseil, another sea eagle soared low over the fjord. 

(The climb is called Tunnel Cuddling, in case you were wondering). 

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