Page 91 of Free Fall

“Well, the first seven pitches are known as the Heart Blast, and they’re pretty tiring; I’m not going to lie. That’s why fitness and consistent training is key. You can’t afford to get up past Heart Blast and then be so exhausted you pump out—” Sejin says, nothing, but I go on to explain it anyway. “That’s when your grip muscles get weak from lactic acid due to overwork, especially in your hands and arms, and you let go against your will.”

Sejin’s breath hitches.

“That’s almost never happened to me.”

“Right… Almost.”

“And never while free soloing,” I say soothingly. “Obviously. Because I’m alive.”

Sejin’s body tenses, and I forge on ahead. “Pitch 6, which they call Dub Step, has some of the most difficult moves of the entire route. A down climb—which is when you climb down instead of up, obviously, and a dyno.”

“Dyno?”

I know he knows this term, because I’ve mentioned it before, but I explain it again. “It’s a dynamic movement—in this case, basically a sideways leap.”

“A leap.”

“Mm, and once you’ve started it, you’re committed. You can’t change your mind midway.”

“Ah.”

“So that’s rough stuff, but I’ve been practicing that move a ton this season, both up on the route itself, and with similardynos elsewhere. I built out the exact dimensions of this dyno on a climbing wall I installed at the barn I was staying in last winter—”

“You were staying in a barn?”

“Yeah, I guess I never mentioned it. It was cheap—as in free—because it was abandoned, and I put a climbing wall on the side of it. I built a model of this dyno and worked my ass off on it. Got to where I was about ninety percent with it, but…” I cluck my tongue. “The exposure changes things. Obviously.”

“Obviously…” Sejin’s throat convulses as he swallows.

I point out the next pitch. “This is the slab that leads to Heart Ledge. It’s a tough section. The first team to free climb it—that’s going up with ropes but not using any aids—thought at first it would be impossible, but they found these tiny holds about the width of the side of a nickel. Sharp holds. Good thing my fingers are calloused all to hell, huh?”

“Yeah,” he says faintly.

“The steepest climbing is here, starting with the roof pitches.” Here my voice falters a little, and I hope he doesn’t catch it. “It’s spooky, but doable. It’s rated 5.14d which is…well, the rating says it all.”

“Difficult.”

“Very.” I move past the roof pitches and sweep on to the next bit, a crazy flake at a rough angle. “After that, it’s a section of smooth granite with nickel-sized holds, but then you take Golden Gate right on up to the top.” I don’t emphasize the true difficulty of the section directly after the roof.

“Well,” Sejin says, leaning back away from the photo. “None of that is extremely reassuring.”

I can’t help the laugh that barks out of me. “Doc, this is hard stuff, but it’s not impossible.”

“Maybe itshouldbe impossible.”

“It just takes training—”

“And luck.”

“Mostly training. As they say, ‘shit happens’, but my job is to make sure I’m in a position to have the climb of my life before I even start up.”

“The climb of your life,” Sejin repeats, and I hear a bit of bitterness. “Thefinalclimb of your life, maybe.”

I sit back, jaw tensing. I don’t want to fight with him about this. “Any moment of any day could be the final one.”

“Sure, but statistically—”

“Look, when I was nine, this kid at my school’s dad died, and do you know how?”