Climbing has been pretty central to most aspects of my life for the past ten years. Friends, jobs, moving house, girlfriends, and vacations have all mostly revolved around climbing to some extent, to some people this will sound strange and obsessive, other people will just nod.
Currently living in Melbourne, that’s in Oz, which is a long way from grit. It’s strange, feeling very at home in a city so far from where you came from. Great place to live where there is much more of the mystical work life balance that we seem to get so wrong in the UK. There is a common question among ex-pats, how long you going to stay? The normal answer is a muted mumble, I guess I could be here some time.
Work in IT, doing security consultancy stuff for clients. No I don’t work on a helpdesk, no I don’t do password resets and I don’t know how to get that virus off your machine. Sorry.
I’m getting stronger again, going to the gym and getting down the climbing wall is slowly getting me back to being able to pull on holds properly again. By the spring I’ll be proper strong, weigh the same and be ready to crank up some impressively big Aussie overhangs.
I could tell you all about the fantastic climbing here, the deserted crags, the epics to be had above crap fixed gear, the unclimbed boulders, the wild camping, the snowboarding in the winter… but that would encourage tourists.
Over the past few years I’ve met lots of the usual suspects from RT, climbed with some, been in pubs with others, fallen over drunk unable to stand from laughing with a few. Can honestly say that meeting up with the RT mafia is one of the aspects of climbing I miss most of the UK, climbing on grit then a good pub can never be over rated.
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