On my way to camp and climb at Sisters the next three days.
And the next go on my project will be attempt #70. Literally. I’ve been counting like a good, OCD boy should.
I had a thought: What if every time I fell, I vomited.
So as I begin to pump, I start gagging.
My leg begins to do the sewing machine and I retch once. Twice.
The pump’s heavy now. Whole body shaking and gagging and retching.
Then I whip, and ………..AHHHHGGRHHHhhhh.
Puke all over the front of myself.
My partner belays me on my project. “Come on, Pete. Come on!”
I start to shake. He yells, “No, Pete, no. You’ve got it!”
I retch once.
“No, Pete. This is my brand new rope!”
Then it’s all over.
For months, every time he opens his rope bag, he can smell my bile.