Everyday Dirtbag Entry #93.

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.


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