for her feet to prevent slipping on critical moves. She seemed to be in a world all her own as she slowly stood, slipped on her harness, and started threading the rope through it.
"You're on, Darb. Whenever you're ready," Tristan said, pushing his end of the rope through a metal device at his waist designed to lock off the rope if she fell.
Darby slid her hands into a small bag of gymnast's chalk tied around her waist to dry them and slipped two fingers into a small hole in the rock.
She paused there for a moment, bouncing her forehead gently against the stone.
"Okay," she said quietly, stepping her right foot up onto a small edge no thicker than a nickel and using her fingers to pull her weight over it.
Each individual move on a climb this hard had to be performed with absolute precision. The wrong hand on a hold, moving a foot out of sequence, even a slight swivel of the hips at the wrong moment, and the climber was guaranteed a fall. Darby performed the first four moves like a ballet dancer, making them look completely effortless, though Tristan knew it would probably take him a day of effort to just get both feet off the ground on this horror show.
He moved under Darby and put his arms up. Though probably fifteen feet up, she hadn't yet reached the first piece of gear she could clip the rope through. If she fell, it would be an ankle breaker, unless he could absorb a little of the impact.
He watched nervously as she dug her toe into a small crease in the stone, tested it, then curled the middle finger of her right hand into a tiny pocket. She carefully grabbed a quick draw from her harness and snapped it into a bolt that had been drilled directly into the cliff.
Looking a little shaky, she pulled the slack rope tied to her harness up and clipped it through the 'draw. He heard her take a deep breath and expel it loudly.
"That part's pretty sketchy," she said.
"Looks it," he agreed, taking up enough rope to keep her from hitting the ground in a fall, but leaving enough slack so that it wouldn't aid her effort something taboo in this type of climbing.
She continued up, her grace fading as fatigue set in. He could hear her breathing fifty feet above him as she crouched down and made a desperate lunge, barely latching a large hold just before the rock turned horizontal.
"Yeah!" he yelled.
"Nice, Darby! Stay with it!"
She snapped the rope through another 'draw and hung off her right arm, shaking her left to get the blood flowing. She stayed there for over a minute, alternating arms and getting her breathing under control.
In the short ten minutes it had taken Darby to cover the first sixty feet of the climb, the weather had continued to worsen. She was partially protected by her position, but the dust was blowing around hard enough to start to sting Tristan's exposed skin. Worse, distant rolls of thunder weren't so distant anymore. Tristan looked behind him at the sky and then back at Darby, who had regained some of her composure and was dipping her right hand into her chalk bag.
This wasn't good. There was a reason people didn't hook a bunch of metal things to themselves and climb to the highest point during a storm.
"Weather, Darby!" He said simply. It wasn't bad enough to tell her to get off yet. He knew she had tried this climb more than forty times over the last year and right now she was climbing better than he'd ever seen her. If she got it, it would be the toughest ascent by a woman ever.
"You hear me, Darby?" There was a slight jerk of her head that told him she had. She was completely focused now, too much so to speak.
She arched her back and reached out for a hold on the horizontal roof.
As soon as she got the fingers of her left hand around it, her feet swung free. In one smooth motion, she grabbed her left wrist with her right hand and pulled herself up until her head almost hit the rock above her.
"Jesus," Tristan whispered to himself as she let go of her wrist. Except for her right arm
"You're on, Darb. Whenever you're ready," Tristan said, pushing his end of the rope through a metal device at his waist designed to lock off the rope if she fell.
Darby slid her hands into a small bag of gymnast's chalk tied around her waist to dry them and slipped two fingers into a small hole in the rock.
She paused there for a moment, bouncing her forehead gently against the stone.
"Okay," she said quietly, stepping her right foot up onto a small edge no thicker than a nickel and using her fingers to pull her weight over it.
Each individual move on a climb this hard had to be performed with absolute precision. The wrong hand on a hold, moving a foot out of sequence, even a slight swivel of the hips at the wrong moment, and the climber was guaranteed a fall. Darby performed the first four moves like a ballet dancer, making them look completely effortless, though Tristan knew it would probably take him a day of effort to just get both feet off the ground on this horror show.
He moved under Darby and put his arms up. Though probably fifteen feet up, she hadn't yet reached the first piece of gear she could clip the rope through. If she fell, it would be an ankle breaker, unless he could absorb a little of the impact.
He watched nervously as she dug her toe into a small crease in the stone, tested it, then curled the middle finger of her right hand into a tiny pocket. She carefully grabbed a quick draw from her harness and snapped it into a bolt that had been drilled directly into the cliff.
Looking a little shaky, she pulled the slack rope tied to her harness up and clipped it through the 'draw. He heard her take a deep breath and expel it loudly.
"That part's pretty sketchy," she said.
"Looks it," he agreed, taking up enough rope to keep her from hitting the ground in a fall, but leaving enough slack so that it wouldn't aid her effort something taboo in this type of climbing.
She continued up, her grace fading as fatigue set in. He could hear her breathing fifty feet above him as she crouched down and made a desperate lunge, barely latching a large hold just before the rock turned horizontal.
"Yeah!" he yelled.
"Nice, Darby! Stay with it!"
She snapped the rope through another 'draw and hung off her right arm, shaking her left to get the blood flowing. She stayed there for over a minute, alternating arms and getting her breathing under control.
In the short ten minutes it had taken Darby to cover the first sixty feet of the climb, the weather had continued to worsen. She was partially protected by her position, but the dust was blowing around hard enough to start to sting Tristan's exposed skin. Worse, distant rolls of thunder weren't so distant anymore. Tristan looked behind him at the sky and then back at Darby, who had regained some of her composure and was dipping her right hand into her chalk bag.
This wasn't good. There was a reason people didn't hook a bunch of metal things to themselves and climb to the highest point during a storm.
"Weather, Darby!" He said simply. It wasn't bad enough to tell her to get off yet. He knew she had tried this climb more than forty times over the last year and right now she was climbing better than he'd ever seen her. If she got it, it would be the toughest ascent by a woman ever.
"You hear me, Darby?" There was a slight jerk of her head that told him she had. She was completely focused now, too much so to speak.
She arched her back and reached out for a hold on the horizontal roof.
As soon as she got the fingers of her left hand around it, her feet swung free. In one smooth motion, she grabbed her left wrist with her right hand and pulled herself up until her head almost hit the rock above her.
"Jesus," Tristan whispered to himself as she let go of her wrist. Except for her right arm
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